Get Carried Away

Scary

2012-02-07T23:32:00.000-08:00

I wouldn't say "paranoid."

I'd say "vigilantly observant." And maybe "slightly cautious." Sprinkled with "suspicious."

Fine. I'm paranoid.

Paranoid or not, we had a pretty scary experience the other day. Read about it at my OC Family blog here- http://blogs.ocfamily.com/2012/02/07/gift-of-fear/

The quote that's helping me overcome... William Shedd- "A ship is safe in the harbor, but that's not what ships are for."

She and He

2012-02-01T23:54:00.001-08:00

10 years ago, the idea that I would have ever run a 5K would have surpassed comical. At 275 lbs the notion of running a mile, much less three, bordered on insulting. Back then, I started slow. I figured I had no where to go but down.

Walking was enough, and eating pretty well most of the time was good enough. I was in my early twenties, with little responsibility and little life committment. If I wanted yogurt as a meal and a run at 8pm at night, no one else was depending on me for a real dinner or bathtime. I had the luxury of making it all about me.

Its been a long battle the last decade, losing and gaining and losing again. Weight isn't the only affected piece- I've gained and lost and gained again my self-confidence in direct proportion to the numbers on the scale. Tiring doesn't even begin to describe the war that has been waged- bite by bite, step by step, glance by glance.

And then, she came along. And I was exhausted and overweight again and tied at the boob to this little screaming bundle of perfection that I didn't want to leave for a minute. Talk about excuses- now I had a bevvy of them within fingertip's reach. At first, I used them liberally. She needed me. She could only be comforted by mom. She liked my pillowy chub to rest her sweet head on.

Then she started getting bigger. Now she could walk, and talk, and she was losing her baby fat even though I still had mine. The excuses ran thin, and so did I. Ran myself thin, or at least thinner. In fact, ran a 10K. And then he arrived.

I wasn't quite as exhausted or overweight with him. But he was my snuggle bug and I knew that I'd have to go back to work in a few short months and I wanted to soak up every ounce of him that I could. He was sweet and soft and the last thing I wanted to do every day was put him down and go for a run. I needed him to need me.

As his first birthday approached, I started to think about her first birthday. It was an over-the-top themed celebration with handmade edible cupcake decorations. He was getting a restaurant-bought dinner with family on a Wednesday evening. Classic second-child move, and he couldn't have cared less.

On her first birthday, I ran a 3.1 hilly circle around a local lake. I had never run a day in my life until 6 months prior, and I wanted to prove that I could conquer something difficult. I did it, huffing and puffing, and I was proud of the accomplishment.

On his first birthday, I ran the same path but with a different outcome. I still finished, but I wasn't huffing and puffing. I felt great, and I kept thinking throughout the run that THIS accomplishment was for him. That he deserves, and she deserves, a happy and healthy mom. And each step I take around this lake is one step closer to giving them something so simple and so necessary.

She and he.

My inspiration.

Read about a recent runDisney 5K at my OC Family blog here!

Yum for My Lips

2012-01-26T22:37:00.001-08:00

Hiding in my stocking this year was one of the best gifts I've ever gotten.
Delicious.
No calories.
No carbs.
Girl. Scout. Cookie.
LIP GLOSS!
I seriously love this stuff. in no way shape or form will this replace ACTUAL girl scout cookies, but it's been an awesome substitute right before bed when I'm needing something sweet.
The lipglosses are made by Lipsmackers and come in 5 flavors: thin mints, samoa, trefoil, Tagalog, and peanut butter. Santa found fine at Target.
Try it- you'll like it!

Cousin Love

2012-01-24T22:31:00.000-08:00

My mom was 13 when her youngest sister (my aunt) Julie was born.
When Julie was 13, I was born.
When I was 13, her firstborn J was born.
And when I was 13, my firstborn Agirl was born.

Julie has three of the most amazing kids I know. J is 17, L is 14 and C is 9. (God forbid I got that last one wrong- I am also C's "Fairiest Godmother.") These three are my cousins, but they feel more like my nieces and nephew. I adore them, and they adore my kids as if they weren't first cousins once removed.

They were my practice babies- the first ones I held and changed and babysat. I was at the hospital for C's birth. They were the flower girls and ring bearer in my wedding. I've hugged them and loved them for over half my life.

They were recently down for a family party, and here are just some of the snuggles that took place that weekend...

J, L and C, thanks for being some of the best cousin-niece-nephew-friend-people that I could have ever asked for. Thank you for loving my kids and for teaching them through your example how to be good people. I love you more than you will ever know.

Pinning My Life Away

2012-01-18T23:02:00.000-08:00

PINning my life away. On Pinterest.

Thank goodness Pinterest didn't exist when I was getting married. My head would have exploded and we probably would still be engaged as I over-planned every aspect and burned my fingerprints off with a hot glue gun.

Here's the only problem. I'm not crafty. At all. I once bought WAY too many beads and attempted to make jewelry. The impetus: super cute hamburger and hot dog beads. Turns out hamburger and hot dog earrings aren't quite "attractive" when you're "overweight" and "looking for love." Lesson learned. Beads sold and nary a craft project since.

I'd coin myself more a Digital Crafter. Give me a Powerpoint and I can make that thing sing. Creating an online photo book? Puh-lease. I'm like Flickr Nostradamus.

But throw some felt, pipe cleaners, and crafters glue at me? You'll get in return a felt flower crusted with globs of dried glue and pipe cleaners twisted into, well, stems.

Pinning a project isn't nearly as intimidating as going to Michaels. Its like having all the plans without any of the expense. Either way, the project won't be done but at least I'm not out $30 and cluttering up my closet.

One of my other favorite things on Pinterest- my friend Marcy Massura's board called "Drunk Knitting." The knitting projects are awesome, but her captions totally make it. Treat yourself to a few minutes of awesome and check it.

Cheers to you, Pinterest wonders who post your incredible projects. I will continue to pin them and pine for the day that my crafting gene drops from the sky in a hand-crocheted basket.

Not on Pinterest? Need an invite? Just let me know! I'm happy to introduce people to their new addictions. Digital addictions only, of course.

B4 #SITS31DBBB

2012-01-16T23:10:00.000-08:00

Obviously, I'm not busy enough, so I'm starting a fun blog-thing called 31 Days to Build a Better Blog with SITS.
I want to remember where I'm at right now, as this challenge starts.
Get Carried Away Stats
-Total Pageviews: 11,626
-Last Month Pageviews: 1,170
-Posts: 253
-Followers: 9
-Twitter Followers: 77 @braunalicious if you want to add to that. Do it. I'm funny.

Putting those numbers out there is kinda like telling people how much you weigh. A little scary, and the number is always not what you want it to be.

I'm excited to see where this challenge takes me and this blog. So here's to 31 days of better blogging!

3 Going on 13

2012-01-13T22:55:00.000-08:00

This is real.

A real, honest-to-goodness conversation held by 3 (THREE) year old Agirl with her 13 year old cousin.

Agirl: Lolo, can I play with your iPod Toucher?

Lolo: No, sorry. Your mom said no iPods in the car. (I know, meanest mom ever.)

Agirl: Well, sometimes I don't tell my mom things.

Lolo: You should tell your mom everything.

Agirl: Well, sometimes my mom talks to me and I just don't say anything.

...

So, yeah. We're locking her up and throwing away the key. This one is going to be TROUBLE!!!

Then I remember that this is the same girl who has spent every moment we've been together over the last two weeks sitting as close to my lap as possible. The same girl who calls cars that are parked on the street "frozen." The same girl who is terrified of the water going down the drain at the end of her bath and loves to give cheek kisses.
This girl.

My girl. My absolute favorite girl in the entire world.

I'm praying that by the time she's 13, she'll be as fiercely independent as she is now, with a few less secrets.

Happy Birthday Honey

2012-01-03T17:01:00.001-08:00

March 2011

Yesterday, as I was sleeping off an icky-sicky-yucky-no-good-very-bad-day, I kind of woke up as my husband was in the middle of a phone call. It was that moment where you're awake but your eyes are still closed, where what you're hearing may be reality or it may very well be the tail end of a dream.

Mr. Braunalicious was talking to a family friend about their gracious invitation to have us over for dinner, and the conversation turned to her compliments of one of the recent entries on this blog. He laughed and said, "Yes, she is a good writer but sometimes she makes me look like an idiot."

Wow. Well, in all fairness, sometimes I do recount some of his less stellar moments in the name of entertaining blog fodder. But, I rationalized, I do the same for myself. I hate to admit it took sleep-snooping for me to be introspective enough to realize that there is a possibility that I may have hurt his feelings.

Fittingly enough, this week is his birthday. The perfect day to recount all of his fabulousness in excruciating detail. And there is a lot of fabulousness. He'd be embarrassed if I shared some of my favorite things- not because they're inappropriate, but because I think there are nice things that men do for women that they would never admit in public, lest they loose some hard earned street cred.

Simply, Nick is a good man. He is absolutely embodies some of the most wonderful qualities in mankind- things I want to be, and can only learn from him. He approaches everything in life as my teammate, and is the first to defend the people he cares for. He loves his family fiercely. He cares deeply about his work, his faith, and the teens that he ministers to. He is the most incredible dad. He is a smart, funny, kind man with a beautiful heart and a gentle soul.

What I realized in writing this list is that I often focus why I love him on the things he does for me. I have no doubt that there will be an endless supply of incredible things, big and small, that I will continue to appreciate. But this challenged me to look at Nick for Nick. It took me back to when we were first dating, and what I loved about him totally seperate from myself.

And I fell in love with him all over again.

To my best friend, someone I am privileged to love and spend my life getting to know better and better, Happy Birthday.

And I hope I've totally and completely embarassed you enough for you to stop reading this blog for a little while, so I can go back to sharing more endearing things, like the today when you... okay. Next time.

Donkey Update

2011-12-25T23:13:00.000-08:00

"What do you want from Santa?" we innocently asked Agirl, 3.5 years old.
Pondering.
Head tilt.
"A donkey!"

And that's how we learned the lesson: never ask your child open-ended questions.

Now, how to make good on the donkey request without ruining Christmas or turning our house into a stable.

Attempt #1: Discover the genesis for donkey request. Donkey from Shrek? Nope, never seen it. "What kind of animal is Eeyore?" we asked. "I don't know" she replied. Okay, not Eeyore related. Then, "what kind of donkey do you want?" Pause... "One I can ride." Great.

Attempt #2: Phone call from Santa, who was supposed to say that instead of a donkey, he'd send a princess dress. After Agirl hung up the phone, she yelled, "Santa already knew that I wanted a donkey! And he's bringing me a donkey!" Fail.

Attempt #3: Visit Santa. Prompt Santa with "Agirl asked for a donkey. Isn't that interesting Santa?" Santa: "Why, yes! How interesting! Sounds good to Santa! Now smile for the camera so you're Mommy can pay $30 for 3 pictures of us!" Thanks Santa. You smell like beef and cheese.

Attempt #4: After researching renting an actual donkey (hey, live nativities do it, right?) we settled on a scooter, a stuffed Eeyore, and a note tied to the new scooter that read...

"Dear Agirl, Thank you for the DELCIOUS cookies! Santa knows that you wanted a donkey, but I thought that you might like something less smelly and more fun to ride, like this scooter. I've left something fluffy for you, also, and I've asked your Mommy and Daddy to take you to see a real donkey very soon! Keep being a good girl. Thanks for being on the nice list! Love, Santa."

Worked. Like. A. Charm.

She gasped at the scooter, squealed at the Eeyore, and when later asked what her favorite present was, replied, "My donkey from Santa."

And now she's in bed, tucked in tight with Eeyore snuggled between her arms, and Merry Christmas memories still intact.

Can't wait to hear what she asks for next year!

Jammies

2011-12-23T23:53:00.000-08:00

It's less than 36 hours to Christmas, and they're the only thing wrapped and peeking out from under the bottom branches of the tree.

Our Christmas Jammies.

My actual Jammie shirt this year

It's been a family tradition since I can remember. Every Christmas Eve, we tear into our Christmas Jammies, nestle into our beds for a long winter's nap, and keep them on throughout Christmas Day as long as humanly possible. We've even been known to change into church clothes and then promptly change back into our jammies as the Eucharist settles.

I have more sets than I care to count, but each one from my adulthood holds a special memory. There's the maternity set from last year, when I was just over a month away from welcoming RyGuy. The Jammies from our Christmas Cruise two years ago. Our first married Jammies.

Pair Christmas Jammies with Christmas Eve bed head and presents from Santa, and you've got picture gold.

Daddy and Agirl Christmas 2010

Not only good around the holidays, they're the gift that keeps on giving year-round.
Come over to our house at 11pm on a summer evening, and you'll find the AC blasting and me, sitting on the couch, feasting my eyes on some delicious reality buffet and wearing long fleece jammie pants with polar bears.

2011 Christmas Jammie picture to come.

Merry, merry Christmas to you! May your days be merry, bright, and comfy!

Outside My Comfort (Goal)Zone

2011-12-18T23:25:00.000-08:00

It's been over 15 years since I've slipped on goalie gloves.
The feeling was trancendantly familiar. Slightly sweaty, thicker-than-normal gloves, with sticky latex on the fingers should a ball even come close enough to grip. I clapped my hands together a few times to esnure the fit, and stepped out onto the field. I could have flown to the goal with the butterflies in my stomach.

I wasn't expecting to play. We came to watch my husband's co-ed league practice game, A-girl sporting her soccer shorts, shin guards, frilly socks and pigtails so she could "play." As halftime approached, they put Mr. Braunalicious in goal. The man has done many things wonderfully in his life- playing goalie was not one of them.

I've stood in more goals than I could count through years in AYSO. It was my soccer identity. "Hi, my name is Carrie, and if you didn't guess by my stocky figure, unnecessarily loud voice and menacing gaze, I'm the goalie."

This was just a friendly game, where everyone said they weren't keeping score but were secretly counting each time the ball swished into the net. After a few warm-up shots, the ball was set in motion, and so was my brain. I was 15 again, commandeering the field from the goal and whispering to myself that no ball was going to get by me.

Well, a few did slip through. I felt a lump in my throat and an adrenaline rush like I hadn't experienced in years. The crowning moment was a dive in front of the goal. I saved the goal, and sacrificed my right shin. Two days later, the claw-like scrapes still sting but I couldn't be more proud. I've lifted my pant leg to brag to more people than I care to admit.

It's my visible reminder that I put myself out there, did something that momentarily was scary and came out with a physical badge of honor. It was definitely outside my comfort zone, but I'm doing everything I can to make that zone bigger by the day. And even if its another 15 years before I step into a goalie box and wiggle my fingers inside those familiar gloves, I will remember this day and the pride (and pain) that came with it.

In Awe

2011-12-07T23:44:00.001-08:00

Apparently I have some competition in the "Who Ry-guy Loves" contest. Look at him checking out Santa- a mix of awe and caution.
While 103.5 started playing Christmas music even before Thanksgiving, the real season starts for us with the first Sunday of Advent. Advent is a season four weeks long in the Catholic Church before Christmas. It's supposed to be a season of peaceful preparation and reflection, in stark contrast to the crazed shopping and decorating. My husband is adamant that no tree or light will come out of hiding until Advent begins.
I was given by a friend some prayers for different times during Advent- prayers to read while shopping, cooking, wrapping gifts, etc. While our faith is important to me, I'm not the best at remembering to pray outside of mass. But one line did stand out to me, and it's something I will try to remind myself of during this season.
"Help me rediscover the joy of simplicity, Lord. Help me to remember what I am celebrating."
Its simple and straightforward, and brings me back.
A little Christmas nostalgia- 2010's Christmas post.

Every Good Intention

2011-11-27T20:28:00.001-08:00

My husband is the eighth of nine kids. His four sisters and four brothers are spread across the West Coast- a few in LA, some in central California, one in Tahoe and one in Seattle. Thanksgiving is the one time every year that every trekks from their respective locations to one of the most beautiful places I've visited- Wawona in Yosemite National Park.

The packing is torturous with a toddler, a baby, and a husband who can't seem to remember both a toothbrush AND deoderant (which makes for an interesting vacation one way or another). It actually might have been easier to detach our house from its foundation and tow it behind us than try to fit all the necessities into the back of an SUV. We managed, and the trip was wonderful.

I had every good intention of taking loads of pictures. Literally minutes before we jumped in the car I was downloading the more than 1,100 pictures from the camera onto an external hard drive to make room for documenting the trip. I imagined clicking with abandon. Cute squirrel on the side of the road? Click! Kids sleeping in the car? Click! McDonalds in Fresno? Click! Why not? I have like 75GB just waiting for my every memory.

Turns out I am HORRENDOUS at taking pictures. Not that the puictures themselves are bad- it's been so long since we've had space on the camera without having to delete something first that we're out of habit. We ended four days of traveling, hiking in gorgeous Yosemite, staying at the most beautiful cabin I've ever seen, and my husband ENTIRE family together with 3 photos. THREE. All taken at the same place. One of which made me want to crawl into a hole and die. Read about that here. Here's the other two...

Agirl bundled up to play on the river with the fam

Chilnualna River- gorgeous!!!

I'm at a loss. I know the days are flying by and my kids are going to be in therapy in twenty years lamenting over the lack of pictures of them as children. But how do you take pictures AND enjoy yourself? How do you even remember to take pictures in the first place? Should I even care?

Being Away

2011-11-18T06:28:00.001-08:00

Overnight in San Diego. Gorgeous hotel (Hotel Indigo- dare you to get closer to Petco Park) and a room all to myself. Four fluffy white pillows stacked on the bed and a huge flatscreen. Complimentary jelly beans.
Any overworked mom would be overthemoon.
And there I was, weeping into the feathery pillow.

A few weeks ago, I would have paid someone to go away for a night by myself. The husband was working a ton preparing for a big work event, and the kids and I spent more than a few night at home staring at each other during the long, dark evening hours. With the streetlights going on at 5pm, it makes for long evenings of a variety of princess related games and shows. There are only so many times Jasmine can sing "A Whole New World" before you start dreaming about one.

I had grand plans. Perhaps dinner at a swanky downtown restaurant. Or a pedicure and room service. Or a solo trip to a movie. Pinkberry was a 7 minute walk away, and I LOVE froyo. The possibilities were endless.

Instead, I was sulking in my jammies. Salty tears fell onto the Blackberry as I listened to my husband try to soothe a crying baby, and Agirl was sadly cooing into the phone, "I miss you Mommy." It felt...wrong. I'm a mom with little babies. I should be at home, wiping away their tears instead of my own.

So it didn't turn out to be the night I envisioned. After a fitful night's sleep (apparently it was TOO quiet- is that even possible?) I headed back to work, and then home.

Yes, I walked in the door at 9:30pm the next night to a tired toddler, and my return woke up the sleeping baby. Yes, the baby required snuggling and rocking for over an hour before he settled back down. I shushed and bounced and paced, which a few weeks ago would have driven me crazy. But perspective allowed me to appreciate this moment with him. I was home, I was needed, I was being a mom.

Retreating

2011-11-14T09:55:00.001-08:00

Retreats. I don't know that I could count the number of retreats I've attended. Between dating a guy in high school that I met at youth group, living in a van for 9 months while giving daily retreats across the country, and being a youth minister for 3 years, the number is abnormally high.
After a retreat dry spell of almost 4 years, I went on retreat with my husband this last weekend. My husband, who is also that guy from youth group that I dated in high school, is now the youth minister.

So we spent a romantic evening away from the babies with 90+ teenagers at a monestary in the desert.

St. Andrew's Abbey in Valyermo, CA

Being on retreat felt like coming home. I adore retreats, especially with teenagers. The sullen looks on Friday as their parents drive away and they are told that cell phones and iPods are persona non grata for the weekend make my heart smile...because I know what's coming. I want to take a Poloroid of their brooding expressions as they board the buses, and contrast it as they get off the buses on Sunday- smiling, all wearing the same shirt, linking arms and practically singing Kumbaya.
This particular retreat (a Confirmation retreat for Catholic teens) holds a special place in my heart. It's a retreat that I helped build during my senior year of high school, one that evolved during my years as youth minister, and that I continue to watch grow with my husband now at the helm. I arrived on Saturday afternoon just in time for the wave of emotion that's being built throughout the weekend swells to its peak with the Family Talk. It's a talk I've heard countless times from one of the most incredible Catholic women that I know- her personal story of struggle with her family and how it helped her appreciate the people in her life. The teens are then given letters from their families, soft music is played, candles are lit, and each teen is prayed with individually. It's a powerful experience, even for an observer.
I think what I love most about retreat is the opportunity for stillness and reflection. It's not a luxury that I often take.
Sunday morning, one of the leaders gave an awesome talk called "Go Forth" about life after retreat. It's an important thing to address for these teens, many of whom had a life-changing weekend and are diving back into a life that is exactly the same. It's a talk about reacclimating, taking what you've experienced and applying it to who you want to be. I nodded my head as the talk progressed, so glad that these teens would have the opportunity to thoughtfully take home what they've learned and "be the change they want to see in the world."
What I didn't realize is that the "Go Forth" talk applied to me. At retreat, looking over at my husband as he stood before a large group of teens and shared about our marriage was intoxicating. I missed our kids and worried about not being there to tuck them in and sing the right lullabye. This life that we've built together felt so good and right and happy while I sat in the chapel and reminisced.
And then I went home. The kids (who had an awesome time- thanks Juj!) were tired and cried during the 2 hour car ride home. My husband was (unstandably) exhausted. I was spent, but there were baths and stories and diapers and unpacking that needed attention.
When I sat down at 10pm to finally relax, I was feeling frusterated. 24 hours ago, I'd been on "retreat high." Now I was the one who needed those Go Forth lessons.

It took a minute for it all to process as I stewed on the couch. What came to me as I took a second to pray was the last thing I was expecting- a quote from Spiderman.

"With great power comes great responsibility."

I have been blessed- inexpicably and overwhelmingly blessed. That is very powerful. With that power, comes responsibility. It takes a lot of work to keep a four-person family happy and fed and dressed and playing and laughing most of the time. Sometimes that work is not fun. Sometimes its a series of chores that seem neverending.
But it is always worth it. For me, this mirrors my relationship with God. It can be difficult to find the motivation to go to mass, or the time to pray, or the inspiration to make the right choice instead of the easy one. But that is the responsibility that comes with this powerful, fantastic life that I have been given. And at the end of the day, I am always glad that I made the time and effort.
I've decided that while a weekend retreat is not possible often enough to keep my internal motivation on that "retreat high," I need to take mini-retreats... a run, or a car ride with no music, or a dinner with my husband. Little snippets of time that allow some perspective and quiet.
And if I can't get away, I imagine myself sitting on the couch, closing my eyes for a moment, and whispering to my kids,
"Don't bother Mommy. She's retreating."

Currently

2011-11-10T22:37:00.001-08:00

There's a little boy sleeping upstairs in a big-boy crib, with one tiny tooth peeking through swollen gums.
He waves by wildly throwing his arm around (often hitting himself in the head in the process.)
He's just started to sign the word, "more."
He screams when he finishes a bottle or a bowl of cereal.
He loves Cheerios and gags on anything green.
We might need a 12 step program to seperate this kid from his pacifier. He's figured out how to sneeze and laugh with it still in his mouth, and likes to take it out of his mouth and drop it on the ground, then watch us search around for it on our hands and knees. We've easily misplaced 10 over the last 9 months.
Looking at himself in the mirror or a picture of himself is like going to Disneyland.
His laugh is contagious and he smiles with his entire face.
He's quickly becoming a little man, and while I already miss the baby-baby, falling in love with who he is becoming is my favorite thing to do at the end of every day.

Measuring

2011-11-07T00:26:00.000-08:00

As the folder of pictures pop up on the computer, I do a quick scan. Any photos of me? Anxious, I spot one. Double-click.
There it is.
Group photo.
And I'm the fat one.

It's amazing how nice my eyes are to me. These eyes that are so critical of others, and often so critical of myself, have betrayed me. There is no way that I am THAT big.

It must be the angle. Or the camera. Did I mention I'm big-boned? If only I would have been holding the baby- holding a baby that may or may not be yours makes you look at least 10 lbs lighter.

This feeling wiggles its way into the oddest of places. Sideways glances at the park at the fat mom. Driving while drinking my morning smoothie and the person in the next car looks over and shakes their head. I want to scream "IT'S FRUIT! I'M TRYING!" Looking around and knowing that you are the biggest person in the room. Ordering food at restaurants and not ordering a salad, saying hello to a stranger and watching them look me over, brushing my teeth and catching a glance of myself in the mirror, seeing my shadow... its a constant recording with no pause button.

This is not the entirety of who I am. There is a kind, creative, witty person here, and she's not even hiding underneath this thick layer. She's right here on the surface, sometimes being more kind, more creative, and more witty to speak louder than the layers.

It's a journey, and I'm at the start. Taking my time to understand this place, with its loud podcast of doubt and seemingly endless sources of self consciousness. I know that I won't be here forever, but that I can like myself and desire change simultaneously.

And in the meantime, I'll jump in a picture or two. And focus on the surroundings and the genuine smile I'll be sporting and let the measuring go.

Halloween Wrap Up 2011

2011-11-06T11:16:00.000-08:00

Warning: obligatory post-Halloween post. Not funny or witty :)

Agirl was one of the only girls we saw out trick-or-treating that wasn't a princess or something else pinkified. She had a choice between the pirate costume or a witch dress with sparkly sleeves and a matching hat. Both costumes were adorable, and both were borrowed from our next door neighbor (thanks Lisa! best neighbor ever!)

Here's what I didn't realize- as your kids get older, Halloween gets longer. I don't just mean the amount of houses they can hit in one night, I mean the amount of time before the holiday that you spend prepping and celebrating. Maybe its just another one of those magical things that you have no concept of as a kid- like that dishes have to be washed and clothes don't just clean themselves.

Agirl went trick-or-treating no less than 3 times.

#1- Mid-October at Disneyland for Mickey's Halloween Party. It was SUPER fun, and I would totally go back. Characters galore, not too long of lines, a fun parade and good fireworks, plus candy for kids AND adults. Nick was salivating all night. We went with my sisters, Jeremy and Derek and had themed costumes- ANGRY BIRDS! Agirl was our little piggy.

#2- Trunk-or-Treat with Lisa. No pictures (I'm such a bad mom) but very fun. They decorated the back of their car with an Angry Birds theme, complete with painted pumpkins and boxes, plus spider webs and a strobe light.

#3- Actual Halloween. We went around my mom's neighborhood- five adults and one baby watching one three-year-old walk up to stranger's doors, ask for candy, and say thank you as she was running off to the next house. Who came up with this holiday anyway?

And now, it's on to the actual holidays. You know, the ones with meaning.
Wanted to share this with you... despite my love for Christmas, I love this.

Scooping the Guts

2011-10-31T11:51:00.000-07:00

Throwback post, originally published on OC Family in 2010. Happy Halloween!

I made a horrible discovery three years ago when I married my husband.

He doesn’t scoop the guts.

We’d been married 6 months, and our first living-together Halloween was fast approaching. In the spirit of “making our own family traditions,” we decided to spread newspaper out on the floor of our 600 sq. ft. apartment and carve our first married pumpkins.

With Charlie Brown Halloween in the background, we splayed out our pumpkins and painstakingly outlined our jack-o-lanterns. I was out to impress with my pirate ship design, his was a more classic face. Satisfied, I cut a hole in the top of my pumpkin, and then set it down next to his.

“That looks great, honey,” he lovingly said, quizzical look on his face.

“Thanks,” I replied. “Once you scoop the guts, it’s on.”

Silence.

Open-mouthed moments of incredulousness.

Finally…

“Honey, I’m not scooping your guts,” he said.

“Umm, yes you are. You are the man. The man always scoops the guts,” I said, probably in a higher-pitched tone than necessary.

“Umm, no, I’m not. I hate scooping the guts. I don’t even really like carving pumpkins, but I’ll scoop my guts because I have to. But I am definitely NOT scooping your guts.”

And there it was. The line in the sand. He on one side with his defiant non-gut-scooping, me on the other watching the fairy tale of holiday traditions crumble around me.

Growing up the oldest of four kids, we always had pumpkin carving night a few days before donning our Halloween costumes. After arguing over who needed the “Bert” (tall skinny) or the “Ernie” (shorter, fatter) pumpkins, we’d gather around the table yielding a completely harmless yet closest thing we ever got to holding a real knife carver. Dad would give us instructions about holding the knife and not poking each other’s eyes out, and then we’d each cut the hole in the top of our pumpkin and the bring it to Dad. Dad would scoop the guts, and return the pumpkin- freshly and perfectly shaved on the inside. Then we’d spend way too long trying to carve our pumpkins, eventually Mom would take over and finish, and then we’d proudly march them all outside to the walkway and light ‘em up. It’s one of my favorite growing-up memories.

So the fact that my new husband wasn’t going to scoop my guts was slightly devastating. This was the man I’d spend 60+ Halloweens carving pumpkins with. The man who would eventually scoop the guts from our kid’s pumpkins. And here he was, shirking his duties and setting me up for a life-long reality of messy, gut scooping.

Come to find out after sharing this event with my friends that NONE of their husbands like scooping the guts either. What is this? The man’s version of bra-burning?

Eventually that night, after threatening to call my dad over to scoop my guts and embarrass my husband, I calmed down and scooped my own guts. I lived. It wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever had to do. And maybe, just maybe, I MIGHT have accidentally scooped a little bit of the guts onto my husband’s face. You know, completely by accident.

We’ve had two Halloween’s since then, but this will be the first that we let A-girl at her own pumpkin with the dull orange-handled knife. I haven’t even brought up who will scoop her guts. Maybe I’ll be surprised, or maybe I’ll get a good arm workout on two pumpkins. Either way, I’m still in love with that silly non-gut-scooper that I married three + years ago.

Stick

2011-10-29T09:57:00.000-07:00

I am an athlete.
I am training like an athlete.
I am eating like an athlete. Well, mostly.
I am thinking like an athlete.

It's a different sort of thought process. Assuming first that you can accomplish anything, then finding the way to get it done. Despite my self inflicted enthusiasm for life, my thoughts tend to be more pessimistic at first brush. So this is a complete mindset shift.

I'm moving with purpose, looking beyond the superficial, and thoughtfully questioning.

Its affecting every area of my life, every relationship, every conversation, every prayer.

This is a lifestyle change. This is how I'm going to get my life in order, and this time I'm starting with my mind and letting my body follow. This time, it's going to stick.

For detailed info on my weight loss/Flirty & 30 Life Plan journey, check out my OC Family Blog.

A Little Perfect and Wrong

2011-10-22T23:30:00.000-07:00

This little lady

took this little camera

and took a few little pictures

some with her little shoes

and some with her little shadow

and some that were both a little perfect and a little wrong

*Agirl was attempting to take a picture of the mushrooms growing on the lawn. This shot was not staged or altered. It is all totally and completely her own awesomeness.

My Husband is a Kindergartner

2011-10-10T11:47:00.000-07:00

Chores in our house are split pretty evenly- I do 50% and my housecleaner does 50%.
To be fair, my husband hired and paid for the housecleaners, so it's almost like he's doing the work himself.

A few weeks back, I was making a grocery list in the middle of a particularly busy week. Its was like Old Mother Hubbard time- the cupboards were bare and desperately needed staple items: milk, bread, peanut butter, etc.
Here was my grocery list when I thought I was going to the store:

And here is the grocery list I made when my husband volunteered to go for me:

Yes, I color code the grocery list for him.
It's not because I think he's an idiot and won't get what we need. It's because I KNOW that despite the fact that he has eaten the same 100% whole wheat bread from the same Milton's package every day for the last four years, he will buy store-brand white bread because its the cheapest.

The color-coding idea came with the Great Yogurt Incident of 2011. He went to Trader Joe's with list in-hand, and saw "Greek Yogurt-0% Nonfat." He came home with Greek yogurt 0% nonfat VANILLA. #1- disgusting and #2- there are like 24 grams of sugar, vs. 2 in plain. It was horrific :)

So I started putting down the color of the item's label. This accomplishes 2 things- A. I get the groceries I want and B. store trips no longer take over an hour while he stands in front of the bread section agonizing over whole wheat vs. 100% whole wheat. Now, find the isle, find the item, find the color, and move on.

Try it. You'll thank me.

PS- Did you notice the Peanut Butter Pretzels and Smashing Smores? Trader Joe's favs. Try it. You'll thank me again.

Carried Away Winner

2011-10-03T15:36:00.000-07:00

Congrats to Commentor #1- Lisa! My awesome neighbor who provides flour and friendship at a moment's notice. Carried Away gift basket coming at you Lisa!

And because I'm a nice person, I'm sending my other three commentors, Michelle, Jenny and Brooke a travel-sized Carried Away spray. Check your emails!
Congrats Lisa!!!

Legit

2011-09-25T18:01:00.000-07:00

Four years have vanished and two kids have appeared since I started to "Get Carried Away."
At first it was a hobby, a digital scrapbook since I have no patience for Cricuts or borders or anything that makes real scrapbooks look cute.
Then I met some women who blogged about THINGS or topics or products and I kinda started to care. Okay, I renamed my blog and bought a URL. That inspiration led me to OC Family, where I've happily contributed for over a year here and most recently here.
And now, it's official.
Bath and Body Works has created a scent based off my blog.

And it smells AH-MAY-ZING if I do say so myself.
So maybe the super awesome people at B&BW didn't exactly contact me or ask my opinion or pay me any royalties, but I'm just going to assume that their entire market research team reads this blog over lunch and finds me so witty and rad that they named their newest creation after my little creation.
No so far fetched or vain, right?
At any rate, I bought a slew of it (cause let's face it- don't all the best scents go away?) and I want to share some with you.

Leave a comment below before next Sunday October 2 at 11:59pm and you could win a "Carried Away" goody basket with spray, lotion, body wash and perfume valued at over $50! I will pick one winner at random.

And if you're looking for a great blog name, try the reverse method and name your blog after one of their over 100 fragrances. I'm thinking about finding a way to use "Blue Elixir."

Despite the fact that it sounds like this was totally sponsored by Bath & Body Works, it wasn't. This is all me. I thought about contacting them to sponsor after I wrote this post, but as my mom told me, "Why would they buy the cow when you're giving the milk away for free?" Inspirational, I know.

Well, now I've said it "Outloud"

2011-09-17T00:23:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I posted about starting a new weight loss journey.

To my shock and surprise, the scale didn't automatically start responding with resounding success just because I posted on my blog that I wanted to lose weight. So, you mean, in addition to blogging I have to actually DO something about it? UGH!

Well, now I've gone and done it. I've refocused my OC Family blog to Losin' It With Carrie. Great. Now I have to actually do something besides just talk about it.

Here's where I started: a GOAL. Not with a specific number and not with a race I want to run (though both of those things are included in the plan) but with a measure of accomplishment that can only be felt to be fully realized.

Losin' It Goal: To be my healthiest physically and mentally for my 30^th birthday.

Now that I've said it "outloud" its ON. And not just because its on a blog, but because I feel ready to seriously begin what will be the first big step on a journey of thousands. And I'm bringing you with me- to laugh, to cheer, to be accountable, to motivate, and to love.

I feel like a Burgler

2011-09-03T00:49:00.000-07:00

The glow from the keyboard is the only thing lighting the keys enough so I can type.

It's almost 1am.

I snuck downstairs by the light of my cell phone to get the computer and bring it back to our room because our router is broken and the only cable to physically plug into the laptop is in the corner of our bedroom.

I'm tapping each key one at a time, ever so gently as to not wake the two men sleeping (one is Ryguy- did I throw you off with that one? :)

I'm sitting on the floor, the laptop is resting on top of a basket of unfolded but clean laundry, and to get the mouse to move I have to roll it on top of my thigh.

This is the glamarous life.

Good enough excuse for not posting? Or at least posting with no pictures?

Promise to get back to it.

After I put away this laundry.

These are a few of my...

2011-08-29T21:10:00.000-07:00

Put your best Oprah voice on...

"It's our Favorite Things party!"

I have five really awesome girlfriends from high school. We have known one another since high school, which was over a decade ago. Between the 6 of us, there are 6 husbands, 13 children, and countless hours spent talking about both. We get together regularly to talk, laugh, eat, reminisce, and eat some more. We take overnight trips to reconnect and destress and talk about our kids and husbands and everything under the sun. We laugh. We laugh so hard we snort sometimes. And maybe one of us laughed so hard we peed one time. Anyway, we have WAY too much fun together.

Those five friendships, each person individually and the group as a whole, is one of my very favorite things.

A few weeks ago, we celebrated some exciting life milestones. Debbie was days away from having her first baby (Baby Nixon, who has since joined the crew!), Kristyn was days away from entering a new age bracket- the first of us to cross the threshold into thirty. Rachel had the awesome idea to include something a little different for this shindig- a Favorite Things Party.

We were each to bring 5 of our favorite things under $10- they could each be different, or all be the same. There really weren’t many rules except that you had to really love it, and be willing to give it away. It was like Oprah’s Favorite Things: Dollar Store Series.

After a few chorus rounds of “Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music, we started- one by one laying out the items that bring a special joy to our lives. Each girl took a turn, explained each item and why she loved it, and then we picked numbers to give them away to avoid what would have probably degenerated into a hair-pulling, eyeball-scratching, knock-down fight.

Here’s a list of our favorite things- and us pretending to be a Price Is Right girl with the loot we brought.

Allyson’s Favorite Things: Mickey Mouse Cookie Cutter, Coupons, Coke, Homemade Christmas Table Runner, Diaper Caddy, Danish Delight dessert imported from Utah, and Teacup Roses.

Rachel’s Favorite Things: Arm & Hammer Laundry Detergent, Forever 21 Jewelry, Trader Joe’s Sauces- Red Curry, Arrabiata Pasta Sauce, Masala Sauce, Book- The Help, Sno on the Go and Frappy’s.

Carrie’s Favorite Thing: Nana’s Almond Rocha- each girl got the recipe, a Milk Chocolate Pound Plus Bar from TJ’s and a bag of Almonds.

Kristyn’s Favorite Things: Book- Glimpses, Candle, Notecards from Target, Magazine- Vogue, Forever 21 Jewelry.

Debbie’s Favorite Things she wanted to bring: Arrested Development, Small Flower Bud Vases, Netflix, Coupons at CVS, other...stuff
Debbie’s Favorite Things: Authentic I Heart NY shirt and NY Plates, Flavored Marshmallows from Home Goods, Mini Colander, Recipe Cards, Reusable totes from Home Goods, Stationary Sets, Garage Sale Best Tips (3 pages long!) She is THE best garage sale shopper EVER- can't wait to get my hands on those tips!

Valerie- we missed you and can’t wait to give you what you won, and see your Favorite Things!

Girls: this was beyond fun, and added an awesome element to what is always a fun time together. Thank you for sharing your Favorite Things and your love and friendship. Excited to see what the next few decades bring us!

Whirling and Swirling

2011-08-26T15:51:00.000-07:00

So many posts to write, pics to download, stories to tell...
but right now
I'm on the laptop tethered to an actual cable (GASP) since our router is broken
my babies are sleeping
I am freshly showered
Project Runway is waiting on the DVR
and I have a date tonight.
More to come. Promise.

Want to Like Your Husband More?

2011-08-22T18:05:00.000-07:00

Send him away for 11 days. :)
Seriously. Not only will you miss him, you'll pine for him. And you'll find yourself using ridiculous words like "pine."

Mr. Braunalicious has been in Spain for 11 days. Hence the lack of blogging. It's been a patchwork of daycare, working, and attempts at continuing to work out and stay sane. Thank goodness for incredible family who have saved us.
We obviously have known this trip was coming for a long time, but the reality of being without our favorite guy took a while to settle in. My head swirled with the logistics, but after a good color-coded Excel spreadsheet sesh, the particulars were covered.
What I didn't expect was the magnitude with which I'd miss him. I knew who would be where, with whom and when. But I forgot to make a tab for where my heart would be- with him, over 1,000 miles away. I didn't know that my heart would physically hurt after a few days. That I'd stay up until all hours of the night watching the most awful television until I practically had to carry myself to bed because I didn't want to go upstairs without him. That everything would be different- car rides, bath times, nighttime prayers, breakfast, park trips. And not just different because I was doing it by myself, but because he wasn't there to share it with.
Life just isn't as fun without him.
Sure, the bathroom sink has been cleaner and his shoes aren't scattered everywhere, but man do I miss him. It reminds me of our dating days when he lived in LA for college and we would see each other every few weeks. It was an actual physical excitement driving up the 405, knowing that I'd pull up to his house and he'd meet me outside. I'd stand on the edge of the curb, he'd stand in the gutter to even out our 9" height difference and we'd hug and kiss and forget about everything else in the world for a few minutes.
In four short years of marriage we've already grown pretty comfortable. There are days that go by when we don't kiss. Goodbyes are simple and sweet when you know that the other person is coming home and will be there day after day.
This is a reminder I needed. He's about an hour away from landing as I write this and the excitement is bubbling up. We are putting the finishing touches on a "Welcome Home" banner. I can't wait to hug him and have him HOME tonight.

My intention isn't to make you barf over how much I miss him, but to remind myself after this renewed newness wears off again, as I know it will and probably more quickly than I can imagine. Check back in a few days for a list of things that are driving me crazy. And next time I need this reminder, I think I'll be the one flying to Europe :)

Husbands: Want to Woo Your Wives?

2011-08-08T18:33:00.000-07:00

Seriously, get her this present for her next birth-mom-valen-aversary day.
Professional Photos of the Kids

I am going to break this down step-by-step for you, and include the little tidbits of info that your wife would include if she knew about your adventure.
You’re welcome.

Step 1: Make this gift a surprise. Not the kind of surprise where you accidentally leave something laying out on the kitchen counter on top of the pan she’s using to make dinner so she “finds out” what’s happening and then she ends up doing the whole thing for you. An actual surprise. And bribe the kids so they don’t give away the surprise. Bribe them with candy, not a toy. That way you don’t have to explain where the toy came from because your wife will wonder why you would buy something else that she will have to put away or repair with super glue.

Step 2: Call Kiddie Kandids (or your local choice for photography) far enough in advance to book an appointment BEFORE the day of celebration. If you work and have to take the kids on a weekend, call even earlier than you think you should. A good rule of thumb- if she’s already started talking about her birthday, you’re probably lagging.

Step 3: Once you have the appointment, devise a way to get the kids to the studio/photographer. My husband had it pretty easy since I work outside the home, but if your wife doesn’t, here are a few suggestions…
-Option 1: Enlist one of her friends to take her out for a movie/pedicure/girls date. Make sure that she’s scheduled for at least twice as long as you estimate you’ll need. When estimating, use “wife time” which means including driving time, at least two trips back inside the house, and an extra 15 minutes for God knows what. You’ll need it.
-Option 2: Offer to take the kids for an afternoon. Tell her you’re going somewhere that the kids go often, so when she asks what they did they can lie easily. This will require coaching the kids and more bribery.
-Option 3: Just straight tell her that you’re taking the kids out to buy her a present. This may be the easiest route, and will also score you extra points as she’ll be blown away that you actually planned something.

Step 4: Dressing the kids can be tricky. She’s going to notice what they’re wearing. Once you’ve booked the appointment, try to pay attention to what she dresses them in over the next few days and copy it. Church clothes are usually a safe bet. If you have absolutely no clue, offer to put the kids to bed and paw through their clothes. Anything free of stains is fair game. Or check the tags in their favorite shirt, find the web site of the clothing maker, see what outfits the kids on the web site are wearing and try to match it as best as possible. If all else fails, enlist a female relative or friend to assist. And don’t forget to brush their hair.

Step 5: Morning of the photo shoot, sneak the outfits that they’re going to wear for the photos out to the car. Then dress them in play clothes. She’ll get suspicious if you say you’re going to the park and your daughter leaves in a frilly dress with matching shoes. And don’t make a rookie mistake- be sure to change their outfits back before they go home.

Step 6: Bring your children’s favorite toys to keep them busy and happy before the pictures start, while each sibling takes a turn, and while you’re picking out the photos. And for God’s sake, if your baby uses a pacifier make sure you have one. Scratch that- have four. Pacifiers have critical need detectors and disappear when you are the most desperate. Bring snacks. And water. And take the kids to the bathroom BEFORE you get started.

Step 7: Get ready to act like a total and complete moron in order to get your kids to smile. Thankfully, there will be no video of you jumping around like a monkey- just a beautiful shot of your two-year-old smiling.

Step 8: After the session, pick out a few pictures and have prints made. Choose regular sized ones, one big one of your favorite picture, and some wallets so she can pass them out and brag about her awesome present (and her awesome husband- score!) Also include a CD of the photos so she can upload them to Facebook and brag some more. These are the little touches that win major brownie points.

Step 9: Bring the kids home. In one piece, preferably. Be sure they’ve completely finished their bribery treat, you’ve wiped their faces, hid all wrappers, and gone over your lie of where you “really” were at least 10 times.

Step 10: Prepare for her to cry when she opens the envelope with the prints inside. Better yet- have your kids decorate the envelope. And best of all, get her another present from you and tell her that the pictures are, “from the kids.” She’ll know the kids didn’t make an appointment, drive to the photo spot, choose prints, and pay by themselves. Then make sure she knows it was you who did all that and not her mom.

Overwhelmed dads? Don’t be. I can guarantee you that your wife will be ecstatic. She may cry. You may get lucky. Your kids will learn how to lie, a skill they will spend the next ten years developing. It’s a win-win situation.

Honey, thank you for one of the best birthday presents ever. I love having babies with you, and I love having pictures of those babies to show off. You are my inspiration- not just for this post, but for life. Thank you.

(On My Way To) Flirty and 30

2011-08-06T23:05:00.000-07:00

365 days from today, I will have that same blog title (without the paranthesis)

If there is one thing I can guarantee, a very different person will be writing that post. A healthier, more centered, better version of myself is living just below this skin. I can see her, sometimes feel her, and I know that she is just waiting.

29 will be my Onion Year- peeling back the layers of things that I have been waiting for "someday" to do. Screw that. It's ON! Right here, right now.

I have a full-out Flirty and 30 Life Plan written out. I dusted off my college communications books and wrote a Comm Plan, but instead of a company or product as the client, I'm working for (and on) myself. I will be sharing with you, piece by piece, objective by objective, tactic by tactic.

To start, my mission statement:

Goal: To be my healthiest physically and mentally for my 30^th birthday August 6, 2012.

(Off to create my accompanying Excel spreadsheet.)

Flirty and 30. Get ready, cause here I come.

Here's how I started- surrounded by good friends and an amazing dessert. Yay!

Blogher

2011-08-04T21:16:00.000-07:00

I'm not attending Blogher this weekend.
There, I said it.
Do you know what Blogher is? It's a great website designed to help bloggers connect to one another, and they have this (reportedly) awesome conference every year. And this year, it's in San Diego.

Some of my favorite bloggers are going to be there. I love blogging. It's right down the freeway.

So why am I not going?

First of all, and I'm embarassed to admit this, I just found out about the conference last week. And Saturday is my birthday. And I don't have "business" cards for my blog, which apparently is THE thing to do.

So as I'm ramping up and getting more serious about blogging, I feel super-uber lame for not going.

But I'm not prepared. So I will read all of the posts talking about the awesome speakers and workshops and learn through creepy stalking osmosis.

And I will be at Blogher '12. Prepared.

Best Club EVER!

2011-08-02T11:48:00.000-07:00

Disney.

Just the word evokes a reaction. Go ahead- tell me your story about Disney. We all have one. The first time you went to Disneyland? Singing the words to "A Whole New World" with your little brother as Aladdin and you as Jasmine? Falling in love at the most Magical Place on Earth? Here's my recounting of the mickey-shaped hole in my heart.

It's one of the best things about The Walt Disney Company- almost everyone is a fan. And now, you can be an Official Member of the Fan Club with D23. (The D is for Disney and the 23 is for 1923, the year that Walt Disney arrived in California and started what would become the Walt Disney Company.)

Animation Building with Walt's original office

It was my total and complete honor to attend a Lunch & Learn about D23 at their unoffical "Clubhouse" the Walt Disney Studios in Burbank. It's just as magical as you'd expect- even the parking structure is sparkly- and within minutes of walking toward our lunch destination we turned the corner onto the street set for Brothers and Sisters. No big deal. Oh, and that building over there? The original Animation Studio with Walt Disney's office on the top left. You know, the norm.

Like It Or Not

2011-07-31T22:56:00.000-07:00

Oh, the great debate. Dare I? Fine, since you asked...

(A favor. When we open fortune cookies, my little sister likes to add, "in bed" to the end of the fortune. While reading this post, please mentally add, "for me" to the end of most sentences. That way, I won't have to write it 1,000 times and you know that this is written with the best of intentions. Which it is.)

Check out this study. Here are the basics-
No Risk of Behavior Problems for Working Moms' Kids
Researchers Say Mothers of Young Kids Don't Have to Feel Guilty About Working Outside the Home
According to the Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health, kids whose moms work outside the home are no more likely to have behavioral or emotional problems at age 5 than kids whose moms stayed at home, a study shows.

For any working moms- I LOVE this magazine!

Where to start? For those of you who may not know, I work, full time, outside the home. I say this solely so you know where my perspective is coming from, not to downplay staying at home or working part-time or working from the home.

Honestly, I don't have an opinion on working vs. non-working as it relates to "the world" or "what's best to raise your children." I am doing what I'm doing because it is what's best for my family. Like a lot of things in life (bras, for example) working and I have a love-hate relationship.

What I find most interesting is not the debate between working or not working. It's that researchers are telling me that I don't have to feel guilty. Wow- thanks random nameless, faceless researchers. Now when I'm walking out the door and both my children are crying and my three-year-old says, "PUH-LEASE don't go Momma!" I can breeze across the threshold without a worry in the world because she won't end up with any more behavioral or emotional problems than my neighbor's kids whose mom stays home.

If my child's behavioral and emotional development was all I had to feel guilty about, I'm sure this study would make me feel world's better. Unfortunately, there are about 1,047 other reasons I feel guilty (and sad, and a little angry, and deprived, and a mix of other emotions) because I work. And I don't think I'm alone in that.

Is it nice to know that my working isn't doing any further harm to my kids? Of course! But I've learned from some of my best friends who are stay-at-home moms that we all have similar worries and fears and things we feel guilty about. Are we screwing them up by not (insert any daily activity here?) Should I be doing more? Doing less? More plans/play dates/classes/preschool? None? Is staying at home going to make them too soft? Is daycare going to make them think I don't love them? Can I do ANYTHING right?!?

My answer to the last question is yes AND no. I can't do EVERYTHING right- and even if I did, Agirl would be in counseling in 20 years talking about how perfect her mom was and how she could never live up to that standard. But I can do some things right- most things even. I can teach my children to be kind, polite, and thoughtful. I can teach them morals and the difference between right and wrong and love them until my heart hurts.

Most importantly, I can guide them as best I can and then let them be who they are and love them as fully as I know how. And if I have to do that outside of the hours of 9-5 Monday through Friday, that's fine. They will know that they are loved even when I'm not physically here. Someday they will have to learn that lesson the hard way, though I pray we are all old and gray when that day comes.

I am Funny

2011-07-30T23:38:00.000-07:00

That's right. I'm telling you how funny I am. Doesn't that make me funnier? No? Anyone? :)
Reading through old blog posts and I am HONESTLY lol-ing. Like at this and this and this. And reminiscing and being so thankful for blogging.
I'm also noticing how often (or not often, rather) that I've been posting. And since I'm getting more serious about blogging (serious in the funniest way possible, of course) I am going to get more serious about posting regularly.
Here's what to expect-
1. Less funny. I know, I started off telling you how funny I am. But blog funny only happens every so often. Mostly I am only midly funny, which may or may not translate here. I guess you'll be the judge of that.
2. Lots of posts with no photograph. I know. Breaking one of the Ten Commandments of blogging. I'll do my best to at least include a stock photo. And it may or may not have anything to do with the topic.
3. Mostly, expect me, being real, sharing myself and connecting and writing for posterity.
Totally fits my New Year's Resolution for 2011, btw.
And here is your totally random stock photo. I love these guys. Look them up and watch the videos.

Starting the conversation

2011-07-22T22:23:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, Mr. Braunalicious took me out on a date.
Wow, that sounds much more glamorous than it was. Lest you think we were all glammed up and being whisked away in a limo to dinner and a Broadway show, here's the real deal. We had plans that evening to attend a function for work. I came home and was feeling out of sorts after a long day at the office, took a shower, and started to get dressed. Nothing fit right. My pants were suffocating the lower half of my body, and all the dresses I own were either too casual or too formal for this occasion. Agirl had a meltdown and Ryguy rolled off the bed. I hadn't seen either of them all day, and the three of us ended up in one big crying heap on the floor. Awesome.
Since we had plans to be out that night, my mom was already on tap to watch the kids (for like the millionth time- thank you Mom! I am so grateful for you.) and despite TearFest 2011, we decided to take advantage. We spent some quality family time playing and laughing and giving baths to the babies and then turned them over to Nana. I was wearing a glorified sweatsuit, wet hair, no makeup, and couldn't have felt better.
A few days before, I had read this article and thought it would be fun to do while driving to the work function. I copied the questions and emailed them to myself to easily pull up on the Blackberry. And there we were, at the bar in The Cheesecake Factory, completely underdressed and totally beyond caring.
Do you ever have those moments when someone says something to you and it is so meaningful or profound (or sometimes awful) that your mind takes a mental snapshot so you can easily reclaim it and go right back to that moment? That's what happened for me when we shared our answers to the last question.
I told him, "I believe in you."
He told me, "You are an amazing mother."
It was perfection, and I fell in love a little again with the man I've slept next to every night for more than 1642 nights.
Even if it feels a little silly at first, I'd highly recommend trying this with your significant other. At worst, you'll laugh. At best, you'll have another moment to tuck away in the mental scrapbook.

Really Smurfette?

2011-07-08T22:23:00.000-07:00

We went to the movies recently for the first time in 2011. Seriously. Put $1,000 on the table and I still couldn't tell you the last movie I saw in the theater.
There was a trailer (is that what they're still called?) for the new Smurfs movie. Apparently, there is this new thing called Real 3D, which is somehow cooler than regular 3D, which I didn't even know that you could watch movies in. I'm cool, I swear. My toddler said so.
At any rate, I was interested to see what Smurfette was going to look like. She was my favorite Smurf- though really, was there much competition? The only other one I could still name is Papa Smurf, and I never really understood why he was decked out in red Scarlet Letter style.
Here she is folks. And to make it even better, she will be voiced by...wait for it... Katy Perry.

She looks like the love child of a Smurf and a Bratz doll. I'm afraid a heavy breath from Gargamel would flip that skirt up in a nano second and reveal some underwear- and by the looks of her high heels, I'm guessing they wouldn't be granny panties. Her hair is too Paris Hilton, and that pose makes me think she was just cat-called by a group of construction Smurfs and her response was, "Who, ME? (Inappropriate hooker giggle)"

So here's my thought. If I were the only woman in a village full of men, you can bet your sweet cheeks I wouldn't be in a dress every day. In fact, I'd probably have a closet full of pajamas- and not the cute ones you wear when you're first married. I'd wear nothing but Rainbows (black ones for nice occasions) and I sure as sugar wouldn't be blowdrying my hair.

So kudos to you Smurfette for accessorizing and coiffing and killing your feet. But I can guarantee that I won't be seeing your outfits in Real 3D anytime soon. Harry Potter is calling, and even though Hermoine is hot, she doesn't look like she needs her own street corner.

Good for My...

2011-06-28T22:58:00.000-07:00

...health, marriage, sanity... where do I begin?
A few months ago, I received the email below from one of my greatest friends, Debbie.

They Teach It at Stanford

...just finished taking an evening class at Stanford. The last lecture was on the mind-body connection - the relationship between stress and disease. The speaker (head of psychiatry at Stanford) said, among other things, that one of the best things that a man could do for his health is to be married to a woman, whereas for a woman, one of the best things she could do for her health was to nurture her relationships with her girlfriends.
At first everyone laughed, but he was serious.
Women connect with each other differently and provide support systems that help each other to deal with stress and difficult life experiences. Physically this quality “girlfriend time" helps us to create more serotonin - a neurotransmitter that helps combat depression and can create a general feeling of well being. Women share feelings whereas men often form relationships around activities. They rarely sit down with a buddy and talk about how they feel about certain things or how their personal lives are going. Jobs? Yes. Sports? Yes. Cars? Yes. Fishing, hunting, golf? Yes. But their feelings? Rarely.
Women do it all of the time. We share from our souls with our sisters/mothers, and evidently that is very good for our health. He said that spending time with a friend is just as important to our general health as jogging or working out at a gym.
There's a tendency to think that when we are "exercising" we are doing something good for our bodies, but when we are hanging out with friends, we are wasting our time and should be more productively engaged—not true. In fact, he said that failure to create and maintain quality personal relationships with other humans is as dangerous to our physical health as smoking!
So every time you hang out to schmooze with a gal pal, just pat yourself on the back and congratulate yourself for doing something good for your health! We are indeed very, very lucky. Sooooo let's toast to our friendship with our girlfriends. Evidently it's very good for our health."
What made this email so awesome was not just how true it is, but who sent it.

I am beyond blessed to have remained close to a group of 5 girls that I went to high school with. Close like the ones who live locally go on walks together and have girls nights or play dates and come over to help when you've gone totally overboard throwing your 3 year old's birthday party and need assistance decorating 54 cupcakes close. And close like annually going away for a Girls Trip for a night/weekend despite that there are 13 kids and 6 husbands to leave behind.

We spent one night last weekend in Carlsbad shopping, having sushi (or Shusi), plowing through the best of Trader Joe's chocolate-covered specialties, debating between riding horses or zebras, attending church (seriously), and being treated to massages (thank you Debbie!). It was rejuvenating and relaxing, uplifting and inspiring, hilarious and serious, fun and more fun all at the same time.
I'm lucky enough to have 5 great gal pals, and I can tell you that it is VERY good for my health (and as aforementioned, my sanity, my marriage, my desire to be a good person... I could go on.) I know that they are true friends that lift my soul- I come home on a cloud and feel better about myself after I spend time with them.
A little encouragement- even if you can't spend time with your best gal pals right now, go and call/text/facestalk one of them and let her know how much she means to you. This is my "heart you!" to my girls- Debbie, Rach, Allyson, Val and Kristyn. I hope you already know how much I love you.

Prom- MVHS 2000 Me, Debbie and Allyson with our Diablo Dispatch buddies

MVHS 10 year reunion 2010- Me, Kristyn, and Deb with a friend

Girls Night Out with babies- 2008

At the premiere of a Twilight movie- hence the vampire teeth! 2009?

Finding

2011-06-25T00:21:00.000-07:00

I got a new inspirational book.
Here's what I've learned...

The idea that I need to "find myself" is completely inaccurate. There is no Carrie-To-Be hiding somewhere in the woods 10 years away that I have to walk one specific path to find. The path that I need to be on is the one that I am walking on right now.
God has not gone before me and laid the stones on a yellow brick road that I have to carefully totter down, careful to not misstep. He is with me in my heart, whispering in my soul as I lay my own yellow bricks, one by one, and hoping that the path I am laying eventually leads to heaven. The greatest part is that I get to find my own way there, aided by the blessings and challenges given to me.
That idea has been freeing to me. I remember very specifically facing a tough decision in 2002. I had just been accepted to a ministry program that was going to allow me to travel across the country for 9 months. To go or not to go was not the tough decision- I knew I wanted to go. The tough part came a few weeks before I was set to leave, when my youth minister shared that she had been diagnosed with cancer.
My first instinct was to cancel the ministry trip- I thought her diagnosis was God telling me not to go, to stay home, to be there for her and for the youth group kids during this tough time. When I came to her to talk it over, I shared that I was torn about where God wanted me to be. Her response was so simple. She told me, "There is no 'right' choice. God will go with you wherever you decide to go."
That conversation encouraged me to go on the ministry trip. It was one of the best, most inspiring, challenging, and altering experiences of my life.
I returned from my 9 months away in May 2003, and despite a valliant battle, my youth minister passed away that summer. I can see now so clearly that what God used the ministry opportunity to ready me for the challenge of leading the youth group in her absence- something I would have been sorely unprepared if I had stayed home.
The book I mentioned is a blank notebook, filled with pages of nothing but lines begging for whatever words ready to come spilling from my heart. On the front it reads "Life is not about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."
It is my intention to use this next year, my last in my twenties, to fill that notebook with what I believe will be the purposeful beginning to creating my life as I want it to be and inviting God to walk with me on the journey.

"Busy"

2011-06-11T07:32:00.000-07:00

Not blogging means one of two things...
#1- I'm "busy".
You know, living life, working, taking care of two babies, planning parties, working out, having too much fun and completely forgetting to take pictures of my kids. Fun Busy.
#2- I'm in a bad mood and don't want every blog post to be angry ranting.
*This doesn't happen very often, but I do find that when I'm in a funk or particularly peeved about something, my desire to write is like 1000%. It's like when I was a kid and something would upset my mom and she would threaten to "write a strongly-worded letter." Now, as adults, when she gets mad we say, "Are you going to write a letter, Mom? And is it going to be strongly worded?" Helpful, I know.

Right now, it's #1. Getting back into the working mom groove, trying to enjoy the time I have at home AND remember to get groceries is tough.

Also, my fantastic sleeping boy who was clocking 7+ hours at 4 months old is not sleeping so fantastically right now. Mr. Braunalicious thinks he's going through a growth spurt. I think he just wants me to hold him as much as I can. We'll see who prevails.

A horrendous lack of pictures, but I promise to be better soon.
Here's one a few weeks old, but it might be my fav of the kids together thus far.

Random Thoughts: Food Edition

2011-05-27T22:36:00.000-07:00

Inspired by my good friend Rachel's latest blog...

I'm in an unexplicable bad mood right now. Nothing has exactly "happened" to cause my sour-ness, but I'm feeling frusterated with the very busy weekend that we have and the few things I need to get done that I'm not able to complete and the plans that keep on changing when I liked them just how they were in the first place. Yuck.
In the midst of this, I'm reading Geneen Roth's book "Women, Food and God" which says that how you treat food is in direct relation to how you feel about God. At least, that's what I've gotten from the first few chapters. Here's my issue with that, and overall my issue with super-religious people- It seems that in order to be "healed" you need to have some big issue or life event or difficult obstacle to conquer either from the past or in the present.
It's the same issue I had when I went on NET and traveled the country for 9 months giving retreats. I didn't have a great testimony or a big catastrophic event that brought me back to Jesus, and for some reason that made me feel like my relationship with God wasn't as real or true or important as some of my team members who had. Not that I am asking for a trial- in fact, I spend more time than I care to admit every day worrying about and doing every single thing in my power to avoid any such event. But in the prolouge for this book a woman shares how she wanted to end her life at age 10 and felt like God abadoned her and she's had issues with food ever since.
I have (thank God) never been abandoned or abused or neglected. Everyone I've known who died (even those who died too early) had heart attacks or died after a valiant battle against cancer- sobering and sad, but not traumatic. I've grown up in a great family, with great relationships and just enough money to be comfortable. Sure I've had some disappointments, but I was raised to believe that I could do anything I put my mind to.
Maybe that is where my issue lies- that I haven't really put my mind to dealing with my food issues, whatever they may be, and I'm frusterated with that single area of my life that feels out of control. And I really want to get a handle on them so that Agirl doesn't spend the rest of her life dealing with these same issues, whatever they may be.
I've been feeling called at mass to something- something bigger than myself and what I'm doing in my little sphere of influence at the present moment. I have no idea what it is, and maybe it's all the inspirational Oprah I've been watching lately, but I'm thinking that craving for more spiritually is leading to cravings for food. Those cravings I can name, put a face and a value and a taste on and satisfy easily without a lot of disruption to my daily life. The spiritual craving is vague, and I know will require more of a sacrifice than driving down the street to Cafe Rio.
I started this post wanting to disprove Geneen Roth's theory, and yet I started out talking about food and then spent the rest talking about God. I guess I have some more reading to do.

Baby Birds

2011-05-08T22:33:00.000-07:00

The chirping by the front door was defeaning. It sounded like there were 100 baby birds tucked inside the tiny birdhouse hanging from the eaves of Mom's house. I laughed at the sheer noise of it, and with arms weighed down by bags and babies, continued inside to cook Mother's Day Brunch.
After the dishes were licked clean, I remembered the baby birds and went back to check on them. At first, I heard nothing. A moment later, Mommy Bird peeked out from the hole at the front of the schoolhouse-themed bird hotel. She looked left and right, assessing any possible dangers, and hopped out onto the tiny front porch before taking off. I still hadn't heard a peep from the Baby Birds, and moved closer to the birdhouse. Tufts of nest spilled out of the little hole, but I couldn't see or hear anything inside.
Then Mother Bird returned, food poised in beak, and she landed on a nearby tree with her eyes locked on me. She let out a throaty warble and puffed her feathers, the kind of warning only a threatened mother can give. As I slowly backed away from the birdhouse, Mother Bird flitted around before deftly entering the birdhouse midflight.
The moment Baby Birds saw their mama, a chorus of chirping erupted. Who knows what they were saying in their little birdie voices? No one but Mother Bird, who stayed inside the warmth of the birdhouse for only a minute, and left to search again for more food.
Captivated, I watched the entire play three more times. Scene 1-Quieting of the Baby Birds, Scene 2- Flight of the Mother Bird, Scene 3- Return of the Mother Bird, Scene 4- Chirping of the Baby Birds. Simple and mesmerizing.

I think as moms there is a kindred spirit that runs below the surface, connecting us to one another. Its that spirit I feel when I smile at another mom in the store or at the park- the knowing smile that says, "Yes, I've been barfed on too." I felt that spirit today watching Mother Bird. Didn't she know it was Mother's Day, and she could have been inside the birdhouse, kicking up her little bird legs and watching a marathon of SVU? No, she didn't. She knew her babies were hungry, and no matter how many trips it took to feed every last one of them she wasn't going to rest until the chirping ended and the Baby Birds snuggled up for a little cat nap. :)
Its a lesson I needed today, taught without words or pretense. Mother Bird taught me that one of the most important things a mother can be is selfless, and that the little monotonous tasks of changing and feeding and disciplining are necessities that, looked at from a different angle, are simplistic beauty.

My Mom loving on My Babies

Seflessness is one of the MANY words that I would use to describe my mom, a woman who I absolutely adore and aspire to be like. It is my honor to be her daughter, and she has taught me more life lessons through her actions than I will ever be able to write down. She is my inspiration to be great as a mom and a wife and a coworker. Love you Mom- hope you had a great Mother's Day, though we'll never be able to celebrate you enough.

Dear Rude Old Lady,

2011-05-07T07:28:00.000-07:00

Dear Rude Old Lady,
Thank you for taking the time out of your very busy day to stop me in the middle of my run yesterday. How did you know that hearing how you, "used to be fat like me," was exactly the motivation I was looking for? Was it my sweaty, exhausted face or my labored breathing that screamed "humiliate me, please?"
And the way you lovingly held out your arms to simulate the enormity of my tummy and then laughed? Heartwarming.
Thank you for making me even more self conscious about my three-month post-partum body, and for sucking the endorphins from what is one of my favorite ways to feel better about myself. And thank you for teaching me not to be nice and say hello to passersby on the trail for fear that they'll accost and insult me. Lesson learned.
I can only imagine what a joy you must be around to your friends and family if you have such nice things to say to a stranger.

Honestly, thank you for pissing me off so much that I ran father than I thought possible. There is so much more I'd like to say to you, but I hope that I don't see you on the trail again for a long, long time.
Sincerely,
The Fat Girl Who Is Actually Trying

Vegas, Baby!

2011-05-04T01:00:00.000-07:00

I have a confession.
We went to Vegas last weekend, and I didn't take one picture. Not one.
The camera was charged, the card clear and ready. And then it sat in the front pocket of the backpack for three whole days.
If I had taken pictures, here's what I would have captured...
-Agirl hugging Bob's Big Boy in Barstow
-A dust devil on the road between Primm and Vegas
-Nick and I all primped and prepped for Gail & Doug's beautiful wedding
-The incredible view from the top of THEhotel Mix Lounge
-The crazy sleeping arrangements shuffling 7 people, including 2 babies, between two rooms
-Agirl visiting the Shark Reef with her Nana and Papa
-The M&M and Coke Factory visits
-Seeing the MGM lions be fed
-Naps. Lots of naps (well, maybe no pictures of the naps, but we took them)
-Dinner at Burger Bar- delicious!
-Katie winning $10 at roulette
-Stuffing bananas and apples in the stroller basket at the buffet
-A family, laughing and enjoying the opportunity to spend time together
Don't you wish we had pictures? I do. But we have the memories, and now a blog, to remind us.

My Version of an Aha! Moment

2011-04-29T01:28:00.000-07:00

"Ships are safe in a harbor-- but that's not what ships are built for." -John A. Shedd

When just the right words hit you at just the right moment, the feeling is palpabale- like a spark of dendrons connecting in your brain and the whole world seems to make sense for a split second. Oprah calls them "Aha" moments. Most of the time for me, it' more of a WTF moment. Like, "WhatTF was I thinking before?" and "WhyTF didn't I think of that?"

One of those moments hit me over the head like a 2x4 this morning when I read the quote above on a friend's blog. By nature (and nurture) I am overly cautious. At least that's my nice way of explaining what my husband would rather call paranoid. I think its the storyteller in my head- constantly playing every scenario out to the 10th degree, imagining every horrific outcome and doing whatever I can to avoid said tragedy. Frankly, its exhausting.

Compounding my "catiousness" is an incident from last week when Agirl went missing at the mall. Honest to goodness missing, like none of the adults in charge knew where she was and we'd all walked away from where we saw her last. The few moments before we found her were horrific. My brain was on overdrive with all the awful things you hope you never would have to think. I was paralyzed. Thankfully we found her, safe and sound.

The sea of fear that washed over took a long while to recede- I'm not sure that it completely has yet, or ever will.

In its wake, my instincts are to take my brood home and hole up in the house like a hermit. And then, a snap of reminder that life is meant to be lived. Cautiously perhaps, but lived nontheless. We are ships not content to dock in the harbor. We have parks to visit and rock walls to climb and dirty handrails to lick with abandon. Aha.

Easter 2011

2011-04-26T00:54:00.000-07:00

I suppose there's no better way to hop back into the blogging fray than with a holiday recap post with pictures!
Promise there is more mind-engaging things to come soon. I'm resaddling up to the blogging horse.
.........
Easter was a very full day of family and celebrating. In fact, we baptized Ryan at the Braun's house since everyone was together and we conned a priest into coming by promising food :)
Woke up early to find a few eggs on our patio... and that sneaky Easter Bunny left paw prints!

Off to church, then the Brauns for a packed itinerary- brunch, egg hunt, baptism, family soccer game and water balloon launching and dinner.

Agirl on the way home- she skipped a nap and ran around the soccer field like a mad-woman and was EXHAUSTED.

Now if I can find a way to stop myself from popping jelly beans like they're Advil, I'll feel like Easter is officially over.

Loving Loving

2011-04-01T00:30:00.000-07:00

I am in the midst of a moment of self discovery- wading through the marshy grasses of who I have been over the last four-ish years since becoming one mans wife and two babies mommy.
Discovering how these experiences have changed and shaped me and made me simultaneously more complete and lost- both happier and more confused than ever. I think its that I'm now living for more than just myself, and selflessness like putting other people first is requiring a lot of me. A lot of my time and love and energy and free time and bites of food and privacy have vanished. And I don't miss them often.
But sometimes I do.
The biggest discovery so far is how much my soul loves to love. And how often I think of something that I can do to love someone, but how rarely I actually DO it.
Example- today I was knee-deep in baking for my dad's birthday, and A-girl was having a bit of a rough moment. I thought how I wished that I could stop and spend some time loving on her. And then I thought, 'Who's stopping me?' So I pulled out a few special Easter decorations that I stashed from our last trip to Che-Target and we spent 20 minutes peeling and sticking little gel chickies and eggs on the back slider. At the end, we were both in better moods- though mine lasted a bit longer than hers.
Its not hard to love people, but sometimes its hard to show it. But there is nothing better in the world to practice than loving.

When You're Smiling

2011-03-28T15:53:00.000-07:00

The whole world smiles with this little guy, I'm convinced.
At almost two months old, he's got a grin that melts my heart. Had to share it with you.

Why I Run

2011-03-28T15:51:00.000-07:00

The crack of the door jam is just barely audible over the sound of the baby crying. I swing the door open and breathe a deep breath and sing to myself- Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?
I've got my running shoes all laced up and my iPod tucked in my pocket with The Clash on pause, but I also have laundry and a crying baby and a potty training toddler who wants to be read to, and about a thousand other things I could be doing instead of running in a circle for 30 minutes. I look back at my husband bouncing the screaming infant with one hand and balancing a book for the toddler in the other and he says, "GO!" Really, he says, "GAW," because he's holding the baby's pacifier in his mouth, but I take the hint.
The first step out is the hardest one, but once the door is closed and all I can hear is the wind rustling through the trees and my Asics pounding the pavement. I wait to press play on the iPod and savor the quiet for a few moments. Once Britney is reverberating in my ears, my steps and breath fall into rhythm.
I run along the trail with the newly rained-on creek encouraging me to keep up. Its nice to be outside, but I'm not exactly enjoying myself. I wasn't "born to run" like my tall, lanky spouse. I'm short and, well, not tiny with sturdy thighs and a belly still recovering from holding a 9 lb. baby just eight weeks ago. Every step is a conscious effort to continue in a forward-moving motion and my breathing becomes labored at even a slight incline.
The fabled "runner's high" doesn't ever really hit for me, but I get through it with a walk/jog combo. At the end, I sprint 25 yards to get my heart really pumping. And here I am, 30 minutes later, back at the door with my hand on the handle and sweat about ready to drip off my forearm.
I pause and listen. Waves of crying are still crashing through the air. I open the door and survey the scene- a frazzled husband, a beyond consolation infant, and Dora on to distract the toddler. In five minutes, I've jumped in and now the baby's asleep in daddy's arms, the toddler quietly playing with a puzzle, and my husband with the remote in-hand.
Everyone is happy.
And now, so am I. I can cross "exercise" off the day's To Do list. And despite trudging through the majority of the miles and coming home to a less than Norman Rockwell painting-type scene, I have more energy to play with puzzles and read Fancy Nancy for the 1000th time and change diapers.
It's just as The Clash predicted...
"Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?
If I go there will be trouble.
If I stay there will be double."
It all would have had to happen whether I had run or not, but after running I'm such a nicer and happier mom. And THAT is why I run- because I feel better about myself and about the world after I've gotten in a little lace-time.

Adios Mickey... at least for now

2011-03-14T14:54:00.000-07:00

I think the first time I realized that I loved Nick was at Disneyland. We were 16-ish, and there for a day trip with youth group. We'd been dating only a month or two, and our group of like 75 teenagers had broken down to about 10. The night was coming to a close, and our tribe decided to catch Fantasmic before hurtling through the crowd back to the bus. We'd be cutting it close, but what's a trip to Disneyland without a little danger?
It was a deadly combo that made me fall head over heels- a warm summer night, Nick standing behind me with his arms wrapped around me, and a little danger music playing while the show came to life before us. I can still remember where we were standing on the Rivers of America for that brief 20 minutes almost 13 years ago. It was the quintessential experience of Disney magic and it only takes me closing my eyes for a minute to go back.
Not that I hadn't already caught the D-land Bug before that... my dad worked at Disneyland as a security guard for almost 10 years when I was in elementary school, and some of my favorite family memories happened in Adventure/Fantasy/Tomorrow Land. But there was something inexplicably soul-carving about the moment that romance became tangible, and it couldn't have happened at a more perfect place.
Disneyland became a favorite date-night spot throughout our 10 years of dating. We'd hop into the park for dinner and ride one or two rides, people watch, and maybe catch the fireworks before calling it a night. And every time we were there together, holding hands and walking down Main Street to the smell of waffle cones and sight of glittering lights, a little bit of that first wave of love would sweep over.
Off and on over the past 14 years, we've been card-carrying members of the Disneyland Annual Pass family, but with our passes expiring this last weekend we've decided to hang up our mouse ears for a little while. The reasons are many, with cost topping the list, but that doesn't make the little Mickey-eared shaped hole in my heart feel any less empty.
We took one last trip on Saturday, letting A-girl pick the circuitous route around the park to whatever she wanted to ride/see/do. And as we exited the gates, there was no little parade or even a tiny bit of fanfare. Just a shot of confetti and a "Thanks, Braun family!" would have been enough. But we boarded the tram like everyone else and headed home knowing that it'll be a while before we return.
So if you see us at the local park pretending like we're riding Pirates or Dumbo, don't ruin the fantasy. And if you happen to catch us on what will now be our once-a-year Disneyland trip and I look like a crazed mad woman with a limosine-stroller wearing matching Disney-emblemed shirts, forgive me. I'll be trying to pack $300 worth of fun into 12 hours.
So Mickey, until next time... adios. Te amo.

Bad Case of the Snuggles

2011-03-02T00:17:00.000-08:00

There's been a bug going around our family. Everyone seems to have caught it, and we all keep infecting one another. I see no end in sight.
It's a bad case of The Snuggles. I think the correct term is "Snuggle-itis-a-saurus-ness."

The only know cure:

more snuggling.

Going Places

2011-02-22T23:16:00.000-08:00

One of my biggest challenges with two kids, besides leaving the house before 11 am, is getting out and deciding where to go. The park and Target tend to be our go-to's, but the park loses its luster after the second trip in the same day, and I find it physically impossible to leave Target for under $100 and that's and expensive outing for toilet paper and thank you cards. :)
Plus, and please understand that I'm not complaining here, I'm back in the breastfeeding world, where life happens in 2-3 hour increments and I immediately base my schedule off whether I would whip out my boobs at a proposed destination.
Side story- I have a vivid memory of visiting CA Adventure when A-girl was 1 month old to ride the new Toy Story ride before our passes expired. I was sitting on one of those concrete benches surrounding a planter trying to figure out how to get my boob out without scarring small children more than seeing Mickey without his head on.
We've slowly been venturing out more and more, even attempting church this last weekend. I thought that being a "veteran" mom, the going-out-dance would be easier. But now with two kids, its turned from a dance into a full-on choreographed musical.
Step 1- Decide where to go. This can take minutes or hours.
Step 2- Decide if I'm presentable enough to leave the house. The new rule is "Less than 2 stains on any one article of clothing is acceptable."
Step 3- Dress everyone. Again, can take minutes or hours! Change diapers.
Step 4- Pack the diaper bag, which now contains two sizes of diapers, enough wipes to clean a Volkswagon, two baby outfits, as many pacifiers as I can spot in case of the inevitable dropping with no good place to clean it, snacks, nursing cover,
Step 5- Get everyone to the car. Open every car door... put the baby or the toddler in first? Bag in the front seat, back seat, or by the stroller in the trunk? Do I have enough blankets? Did I bring my own wallet? Did I even pee?
Step 6- At least one trip back to the house for something that was forgotten.
Step 7- Change baby's diaper again.
Step 8- Pull away from the house. Breathe a sigh of relief mixed with trepidation. Know that we have enough food and diapers to be gone 24 hours, but that we'll have to be back in 45 minutes for the little one's next feeding.
We've been brave enough to go out a few times, and I even took both kids to the park BY MYSELF this morning. I was waiting for a medal and a little parade when I got home with everyone alive. Alas, no medal or even a tiny parade. Just requests for feeding from the kids, so I attempted to breastfeed and make a PB&J simultaneously. It was...interesting.
A few pics of the kids for your viewing enjoyment.

First trip to the park. Ry-guy looks unimpressed. A-girl looks like a hobo. Success.

Daddy and Ry-guy at his first dr. appt. Oh, the excitement.

Snuggling at home- what we do best. We must have just gotten home from somewhere, since I'm wearing makeup and something besides PJ's.

Falling in Love

2011-02-10T15:24:00.000-08:00

It's hard to believe that last week I was pregnant. And the wait until I held a newborn in my arms seemed interminable.
I blogged a little about wrestling with the decision of VBAC vs. Repeat C, and I wanted to tie up the loose ends for all of you hanging on the edge of your seat, and beacuse I like it in movies when at the end, all the loose ends are tied up in a pretty little package, and you can leave the theater acting like you knew what was going to happen all along.
It took until the day before my scheduled induction to make the final call. I just felt in my bones that my body wasn't ready to go into labor, and that an induction meant that I was going to spend the entire day fighting against myself with the probability of having a C-section at the end rather high. And that was the very last thing I wanted. Thinking about a repeat C was actually sitting well in my soul, and I knew it was the right decision for the baby and for me. So we made the call to the doctor and changed the induction to a C-section.
I woke up at 5am on "birth day" and set about getting ready before we needed to leave at 5:30. I was told to not eat after midnight the night before (standard operating procedure, apparently) so I ended up putting on makeup to distract myself from how hungry I was :) Yes, I was that girl- the one on A Baby Story who saunters into the hospital for her C-section sporting a face-full of mascara, though I did try to make it look very natural and, "I just wake up this beautiful."
Arrived at the hospital and checked in at L&D right behind some woman who was ACTUALLY in labor. She was sweating and panting, telling the nurses her name between contractions, I sauntered up to the desk and checked in like I was having a mani-pedi. Normal pre-surgery from there, laughing while the nurse put the IV into my arm, walked into the operating room, quick shot in the back, and 20 minutes later there was the unmistakeable first cry of a newborn.

It was such a different experience from the first time. I was less emotional, but more present. Billy Joel music was playing in the background. The doctors and nurses were relaxed and chatting with us about what we thought the baby would be, with everyone placing their bets as my OB made her way, inch by inch, toward the baby. Then, after a ridicuous amount of pressure and tugging (the baby was WAY up high in my uterus, almost underneath my ribs) they lowered the curtain just enough for me to peek over and see my son. He was beautiful- bloody and slimy with a head full of dark hair and wide open eyes. They whisked him off for some cleaning and Mr. Braunalicious went over to reassure him. All I kept hearing where tiny whimpers from the baby, and the sound of my husband lovingly whispering in his ear, "It's okay son. Daddy's here, and I love you."

After the baby was cleaned and weighed (9 lbs, thank you very much) they brought him over to meet me. I was still being sewn up, so they laid him on my chest just below my chin. And I fell in love. I honestly think that having babies is God's way of letting you continue to fall in love once you're married. It's a totally and completely different kind of love- one where you'd lay your life down before you even know the first thing about the person, but it's falling and loving nontheless.

Precious few moments passed, and they needed to take the baby so the could finish up surgery. We were still debating over his name- going between Ryan and Logan, both of us on either side and trying to look into the baby's eyes and see it written there somewhere. Just before the nurse whisked him away, Mr. Braunalicious said, "I think he's a Ryan, honey." And that was that. He was named and officially welcomed into the family with a name that will forever tie him to us.

Recovery has been slow, but relatively easy considering.

A-girl is adjusting well, she's enamored with her little brother and taking her big sister role pretty seriously.

RC is blending in beautifully and is a typical second child- great sleeper, immune to noise, and very patient with his new parents and sister.

There it is. A very different birth than I expected, but at the end of the day, we have a fabulous healthy little family that is growing together more and more every day.

Bundles

2011-01-31T10:26:00.000-08:00

In just a few short days/hours, a little bundle of baby will be welcomed into the Braunalicious household- snuggled tight in a Glo-Worm-esque wrap, in a blanket of either pink or blue.
But right now, a bundle of emotions is consuming my every moment, and it's the only bundle I can think about.
We are very, very blessed to get pregnant so easy, it's actually a little ridiculous. And overall, I have a relatively easy 9 months of baby-growing. So it befuddles and confuses me why delivering these easily concieved and gentle growing little ones is so complicated for me.
After 20 hours of labor with A-girl, I ended up having a c-section for the ever-famed, "Failure to Progress." It was an exhausting, emotional ride that ended with the most beautiful little bundle of baby that I have ever laid eyes on. In the subsequent hours and days following her birth, as we struggled with breastfeeding and figured one another out, I remember having one distinct breakdown where I wailed, "I feel like I'm not doing anything the way it's supposed to be done." It felt like my body was betraying me- first with a failed birth, then not producing milk as quickly and easily as I thought it was supposed to.
When Mr. Braunalicious and I started talking about baby #2, there were lots of conversations to be had- the who, what, when (not so much the where!). But none of those conversations included the topic of HOW this baby would be arriving in the world 9 months after we stepped off the cliff for round two.
We skated through the first six months without much fanfare, and then started having the conversations with the OB about a VBAC, which is what I assumed I wanted. (VBAC= Vaginal Birth After Cesarean) Of course I would let nature take it's rightful course and have this baby the "right" way. The OB even went so far as to give me a 70% chance of success, since I never progressed far enough to push with A-girl. Her head was just too darn big.
Right up until last week, we were wearing the "VBAC or Bust" bumper sticker like a badge of honor. Then the OB suggested we schedule an induction so this baby doesn't get ginormusly large like my first 9.8 lb-er. Then I started doing research on VBAC's and inductions. So I chickened out and canceled the first induction, hoping Mother Nature would take a hint and get this show on the road naturally.
Now I sit here, scheduled for Induction #2 tomorrow, and this bundle of emotions is still avalanching and growing bigger by the second. I never thought that this decision would get harder as the day drew closer. I feel like my body is betraying me again for not going into labor on demand to make this decision easy. I'm seriously debating just walking in and demanding a c-section and having this whole shenanigan over with.
Because at the end of the day, the only bundle I really care about is the one with 10 warm fingers and toes, that I get to fall in love with.

Waiting and Wishing

2011-01-25T13:57:00.000-08:00

End of pregnancy ramblings.
Fair warning that this may or may not make ANY sense.

So TODAY is my due date. And I (fortunately AND unfortunately) feel great. Sure, I'm the size of a small house and I like to say that I'm 10 months pregnant, which technically I am. But overall, and especially compared to the end of my last pregnancy, I feel really quite good.
Which makes the following comments that much more annoying.
I took A-girl to the park this morning and had 3 different people ask me if I'm okay.
Last night at Disneyland, the girl at Pizza Port said, "You look tired." We had literally JUST arrived. And yes, I went to Disneyland the night before my due date. 3 reasons- #1: It very well was our last opportunity to go as a small family of three and before my pass expires. #2: What better place to walk this baby out? #3: I heard once somewhere that if you give birth in Disneyland, then the child is technically a citizen and never has to pay for admission.
I'm pretty sure the last one isn't true, but that would make for a heck of a story!

But as good as I feel, I'm ready for this little one to arrive. I'm SO excited to know if this little swimmer is a boy or girl- we're still totally thinking boy. The jury is still out as to whether we will not find out the gender of the next baby... or even if there will be a next baby. Lots to consider.

So WHEN is the big question these days. I had planned an induction with my doctor for this Thursday, but after some internal questioning and a few key pieces of advice from friends/family/the Husband, we decided to give Baby Braunalicious until next Tuesday 2/1 to arrive before we go in after him/her. I'll be officially a week overdue at that point, and it just felt more right than rushing through an induction (especially since I'm trying to VBAC). For now, walking and bouncing on the exercise ball will have to work their natural induction magic.

If you can, say a little prayer for me and baby- that he/she will come before next Tuesday, that the delivery is natural, and that I can keep feeling good, despite how I must look. We're excited to share the good news with you all soon!

Jessie's Girl

2011-01-18T16:33:00.000-08:00

A-girl loves her some Jessie. There's a little wooden rocking horse in our family room that she willl climb on, don her sparkly Jessie hat, and yell, "Giddy-up Bullseye!" It's classic.
When Aunt Julie gave her a new sparkly Jessie shirt for Christmas, she couldn't wait to wear it to Disneyland. And have her hair done in "Jessie Braid Pon-don-dons." Pon-don-don is her word for ponytail. No idea where that came from.
Shamelessly adorable pics below of Jessie's Girl on our I am in awe (even more so in pictures) of the little lady that she is becoming. And I'm honored to be her mom.

Hi. My Name is Carrie. And I Have a Resolution.

2011-01-11T15:09:00.000-08:00

I love it at the end of a book or movie when the story is winding up and all the little puzzle pieces begin to fall into place. That creepy shadow lurking in the background throughout the whole first half? He's really the killer- and I knew it!
So New Year's Resolutions are meant to be tied up in a nice little package- reported on at the end of the year as a means of self-reflection and opportunity for growth. Or to think, 'WTF was I thinking when I said I would do that?'
I was reminded of my 2010 Resolution from my good friend Rachel's post on her NY Resolutions for 2011. Mine was, "Be a Joy to be Around." Read the whole post here. And then, my next post, less than a week later- "Being a Joy is a Drag." So that went well.

This year, I am going to be like Gerald: a realist. I've been coming to a realization lately that more and more I am doing things that don't help me feel like myself. And then the inevitable merry-go-round of self doubt starts spining out of control and I end up dry-heaving at the inevitable, "Who AM I?" So my 2011 Resolution is to be ME. Plain and simple. I'm going to be my most authentic self, and only do things that make me feel like I am being true to who I really am.
The words "I", "me" and "my" were used 13 times in the paragraph above. And I'm going to be okay with that. To understand who I really am is going to take some introspective, selfish time. And during my last full year in my twenties, I hope to embrace who I have been and help shape who I want to become.
Can't wait for the wrap-up from this resolution in January 2012.

Christmas 2010: Santa vs. Jesus

2011-01-10T15:48:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know it's January.

Christmas 2010 was our first at home with A-girl at an age where she could "get" it. Her first Christmas, she was 6 months old, and we were living in a tiny apartment not even big enough for a tree.

Then last Christmas, we were on a cruise with my family for the holiday.

So this year was our first one in our own home, complete with a tree and stockings hung, and a few new life lessons for us.

At the beginning of the season, Mr. Braunalicious and I discussed how we were going to handle a few things- time with family, presents, and most importantly- Santa vs. Jesus (in the most epic battle of the century).

These are the questions that should be answered in parenting books. Instead, we're left to fend for ourselves on the REALY important stuff. Let me explain...

Nick and I have both grown up Catholic, and met at church. Our faith is an important part of who we are as individuals, a couple, and now a family. So now that A-girl is really old enough to understand the idea of both Jesus and Santa, I felt a little dilemma coming on. Do we do the whole Santa thing? Is telling her about Santa lying? Does talking about Santa diminsh the real reason for the holiday?

Essentially, can you have both Jesus and Santa, or is this a light saber match in which one person must be victor?

I made up my mind one night watching Miracle on 34th Street (the newer Dylan McDermott version). Santa is not a bad guy. The idea of Santa (really, St. Nicholas) is a good moral that we will try to instill in our children anyway. We can talk about Jesus and read books about the nativity and go to church together and still have Santa visit.

The Plan:

TRY to incoporate both. We went to visit Santa, and read a cute Nativity Story that talked about it being Jesus' birthday. We made cookies for Santa, and a bithday cake for Jesus. (Side note- isn't it weird that Jesus likes the same birthday cake that I do- yellow cake with chocolate frosting?!? I knew I loved him.)
The outcome:
Christmas morning was all about Santa, and the play kitchen that he brought for A-girl. Later that morning, we went to church without her while she stayed at Grandma's and played with her new toys. When we asked, "Whose birthday is it today?" she answered, "Santa's!" and when we said, "No, who is Christmas really about?" she replied, "ME!"
Oh well. Sorry Jesus. Next year, we'll get you a better light saber.
And some pictures of the day, for posterity.

Hope you all had a Merry Christmas!

Baby Poll

2011-01-04T21:44:00.000-08:00

Baby Braun 2011 should be here soon- enter the Official Baby Poll HERE!

For reference, A-girl was almost two weeks overdue, and weighed 9.8 lbs and was 21".
Due date for this baby is Jan. 25.

Winner will get a prize (TBD) but you know you're all just playing for the honor of being RIGHT!

The Great Debate

2011-01-04T01:24:00.000-08:00

We've decided to not find out the gender of this baby- I can't really remember why, but now with the due date less than 3 weeks away its getting exciting!
With A-girl, we decided to find out the gender at the 20 week ultrasound. I vividly remember laying on the ultrasound table, goopy gel being smooshed across my just-poofy belly and a little gray and white baby swimming around on the screen. The tech paused for a minute before nonchalantly saying, "It's a girl." We were happily surprised, and immediately our baby world turned a dusty shade of rose.
To maintain some element of surprise, we decided to wait to name the little lady after we met her in the delivery room. We went in with a mental list of three names, and spent the time in the hospital before she arrived matching those names with middle names. The final decision was so easy- we looked at each other after seeing her for the first time, and both said the same name at the same time. Simple, and beautiful.

For whatever reason, picking our top few names has been really tough with this baby. Maybe its because we don't know if we're picking a boy or girl name, so the whole world of options is open. I'm stuck on the idea that our kid's names need to "go" together. If we name another child with an A name, do we have to name ALL future kids with A names? AHH!!!
Not to mention the fact that Mr. Braunalicious and I DO NOT like one another's top name choices for boys. And I have a girl name that I really love, and he's rather sanguine about it but doesn't have anything top on his leader board for girls.

I'm sure there will be MANY conversations over the next few weeks as we wait for this baby to arrive about names, and hopefully we'll have a solid list before we get to the hospital!

THAT Moment

2010-12-21T22:39:00.000-08:00

Ever have that moment when you realize something? Something that should have hit you over the head months ago, but for some reason it took this long for the reality to settle into your brain? And now, reality hits, and you're like, "Oh CRAPBALLS!"
Yeah, that's me tonight realizing that I'm going to have two kids.
I know. I'm like a million weeks pregnant. Check out this hot pic- what did I think was going on in there?

For whatever reason, and actually for no specific reason at all, tonight was the night of reality. It's been creeping up slowly over the last few weeks. I'll be bathing A-girl or reading her a story and think, "Pretty soon there will be a baby somewhere in this house while I'm doing this." And then the thought would pass, and we'd go on about our bedtime routine and I'd plop on the couch to feel the little monkey in my tummy doing somersaults and STILL not put the two together.

On the way home from work in the car today, I thought about the fact that I haven't written much about this pregnancy. It helps that it's been rather uneventful, and I wonder if not knowing the gender is contributing. Either way, I feel like I've had my head in the clouds, and now the list of things to do before the baby gets here is growing in direct opposite proportion to the time left before said event occurs.
I'm 35 weeks today, and just starting to get uncomfortable. My energy is noticeably waning, belly is obviously growing and shape-shifting, and belly button is threatening to pop at any moment. We've yet to pack a hospital bag, or choose names. There is literally one bag in our room with a single blanket, a pack of newborn diapers and wipes, a bear, and two unwashed "coming home from the hospital" outfits, one pink, one blue (all gifts.) I'm painfully unprepared, both physically and emotionally.
But there is one thing that washes away all my worries... I absolutely cannot wait to fall in love with another little person all over again. I can't look at pictures of newborns and not tear up, wondering what Baby Braunalicious 2.0 will look like.
Like this one.

Or this one.

So advice is welcome. And I will probably be bringing up the baby more in the coming weeks, hopefully helping the reality sink in and entertaining you with the ridiculousness that is inevitable in the last few weeks of this journey.

Discovering Gingerbread

2010-12-20T18:50:00.000-08:00

Rainy days require fun places to go- indoors. And if they're educational to boot, what a huge plus!
Enter the Discovery Science Center in Santa Ana. It's the huge cube-like thing that hangs over the 5 freeway, usually with some outrageous oversize blow-up peeking over and watching me speed by on the way to Disneyland :)
We had the opportunity to attend a special event last week the evening they were handing out awards for their annual Gingerbread Contest. These go beyod the traditional gingerbread houses, some of these are INCREDIBLE- check out my favorite, The Honda Center.

The Science of Gingerbread display stays until Jan. 2. It's a great place to visit with kids a variety of ages, and I think A-girl (who's 2 1/2) will enjoy it even more as she gets older.
Check out the awesome video below, showing more of the houses and some of the additional activities.
Thanks to my awesome friend Pam for the invite!

Mommy's Letter to Santa

2010-12-09T22:40:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this letter to Santa for Macy's and the Make-A-Wish Foundation's "Believe" campaign. Take a letter to Santa to any Macy's store nationwide and they will donate $1 to Make-A-Wish. Check out the cute commercial here.

Dear Santa-
So, it's been a while. And not just because I found all the presents that were supposed to be from you stashed in the hall closet Christmas Eve, and was then threatened that if I ratted my parents out to my younger siblings, I'd never get any presents again.
I've been a pretty good girl this year. I ran a 10K. I've eaten greek yogurt and green beans (not together) because I read online that they were good for you. I've gotten through 8 months of pregnancy with only momentary outbursts of insanity. I've read Fancy Nancy so many times she's started showing up in my dreams. I've shopped and cooked and laundried and scrubbed and dusted and waxed and laughed and played a lot.
I know most of these letters turn into a big, long list of material things that people want. And in an effort to not disappoint you, here's my list:
-I'd like for sleep to multiply
-Can you have the elves come up with a magic box in the kitchen, where when you say what you want for dinner, it magically appears? Hot, and served on my own dishes? And can it also have no preservatives, artificial coloring, or calories?
-I'd like a dog that stays a puppy forever
-I'd like one date night a week with my awesome husband and without guilt for not being with our daughter after being gone all day at work
-I'd like for the Beauty and the Beast CD in my car to disappear so I don't have to lie about where it went
-I'd like Mary Poppins to be my nanny. Not my daughter's nanny, MY nanny. And then maybe I'd like a nanny for my daughter, too.
-I honestly would like World Peace, so I can sleep at night and wake up the next day knowing that the world is right and people are intrinsically good.
There you go Santa. I know, it'd be much easier to just get me a pair of princess cut diamond stud earrings. Fine. Take the easy way out. But make sure they're at least a carat.
Love,
Carrie

And here's a much funnier Mommy's Letter to Santa by syndicated columnist Debbie Farmer. I'd like to echo her P.S. at the end.
Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my daughter's girl scout sash with staples and a glue gun.

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find any more free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisle in the grocery store. I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.

If you're hauling big ticket items this year, I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals, and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, two kids who don't fight, and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother", because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

And please don't forget the Playdoh Travel Pak, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the In-law's house seem just like mine.

If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container. If you don't mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely.

It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours always.....Mom

PS: One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.

Holiday Funk

2010-11-28T22:15:00.000-08:00

That's right. This holiday weekend was a bummer.
Grand plans were made- a trip to Yosemite with the husband's ENTIRE family, and then a un-birthday party with 5 of my favorite girls after returning home. Lots of family (some we only see once a year), good food, and an evening of laughter with amazing friends. Could it get any better?
Well, the best laid plans...turned into nothing we expected. Snow on the 41 up to Yosemite required chains, and I didn't feel comfortable with driving in snow, pregnant, with a 2 year old with chains on the car. Neither Mr. Braunalicious nor I have ever really been in snow, much less driven in it, much less with chains up a mountain road. After MUCH hard delberation, we bagged Yosemite, turned the car around and went home.
And the awesome un-birthday party with my fav girls was rescheduled since one of us couldn't make it here- totally necessary as it wouldn't have been the same without us all together, but still sad.
So I'm starting this holiday season in a funk, and I'm not sure yet how to get out of it. We decorated the house, and I'm still not feeling that cheery vibe.
I'll keep you posted for when the happiness starts to seep in- I'm thinking it might coincide with a peppermint hot cocoa and nice, long massage.

Sulk Fest: The Aftermath

2010-11-20T01:21:00.000-08:00

I was right in the middle of a good, old-fashioned pity party when I started to write this post. Sulking in the kitchen, blanket wrapped around my legs for a small bit of comfort, and checking blogs. After reading through a few posts, I clicked “Add New Post.”

And then I sat.

Staring at the blank box, cursor mockingly flashing- daring me to DO IT.

Write the post. The one no one wants to read. The one where you’re miserable (if only for 5 minutes) and nothing in your world is right and you’re mad at the fridge for its incessant buzzing.

Instead, I started to cry, the hot tears coming from nowhere and blurring the unfair world around me. I pushed my chair back, ran past my unsuspecting and completely innocent husband, and had a good, heaving cry over the footboard of our bed.

For absolutely no reason.

It was just one of those days (not one of THESE days, which I ironically just wrote about) but a day where nothing had gone particularly wrong or right. And for whatever reason, the flick of a hidden switch incited an internal riot of emotion.

After a nice, hot shower to wash away the evidence of crying and readjust my mojo, I tiptoed back downstairs for a cold glass of water and two hours of Dancing With the Stars. The perfect recipe.

Upon later reflection, I wish I had written in the midst of the fury. Raw emotion can make for some of the most real moments, even if the reality is the one I try and mask most of the time. I think I might have learned something about myself.

Because sometimes it’s the pain we need, and not the perspective.

I wish you were here...

2010-10-27T21:23:00.000-07:00

...to smell this yumminess!
Oh, and have a piece, too.

I was like crazy Suzy Homemaker tonight. Home from work at 6pm, dinner on the table by 6:30, kid bathed, laundry started, and homemade pumpkin bread baked, glazed and out of the oven. And maybe a piece eaten. Just so I don't posion you when you come over to have some.

'Sup With That?

2010-10-20T22:01:00.000-07:00

I try really hard to strike the balance between...
1. Personal Family Blog
2. Mommy Blog
3. Promotion Blog- touting places, products or people
4. Witty random sarcastic writer

It's like the Rule of Four (that no woman can be smart, nice, funny AND beautiful, cause life's just not that unfair.) I'm finding it really hard to do more than one at the same time in the same post. And I think all are good and fun components to a great blog, at least the ones I enjoy.

So, here's a quick shameless "'Sup" with the Braun clan, officially casting this post squarely in #1. Sans pictures- sorry. I'm a bad camera mom.

All in all, we're all doing great. I'm about 6 months along with Baby #2 and feeling awesome- I forget I'm pregnant kind of alot. Then I get kicked in the ribs and I remember, 'Oh yeah, there's someone in there.' I say 'someone' because we're not finding out the baby's gender. Another post about people's reactions to that.
I've had some exciting things happen with blogging lately- joined both The Smartly OC (soon to be The Smartly SoCal) and OC Family Mom Bloggers. It's an honor to be part of both groups, and I love the diversity it's forcing me to have in my writing. I find myself thinking in constant blog posts and titles.
Nick is awesome. He is, in the most loving way possible, the easiest husband in the world. Or maybe that's just how you feel when you marry the right person :) He somehow manages to be mostly stay-at-home dad, almost full-time youth minister, and all-time best husband ever without breaking a sweat. A few weeks ago he arranged for a real, non-family, we-have-to-pay-you babysitter and took me for fondue. The meal was delicious and fun and THREE HOURS LONG. I love my husband and everything, but three hours?!? We both agreed that we'd pretty much only go back for the chocolate portion of the meal.
A-girl is almost 2 1/2 and I can't even believe that as I write it. My favorite new thing is prayer time with her at night. She knows how to do the sign of the cross, and in the beginning it was so sweet and calculated... "In the name of the Father..............................................Son........................" You get it. Now that she's got the routine down pat, so tries to say it as quickly as possible. And all her prayers start with "Dear Jesus" like she's not only praying, but also writing him a letter. Warms my heart.
We're getting excited for the big Braun family trip to Yosemite in November, and looking forward to a quiet holiday season at home.

That's the big "sup" with us. Now you can die happy, I'm sure.
Pictures next time- and more wittiness! This post is entirely void of sarcasm and it depresses me :)

You Know You Have Kids When...

2010-10-13T21:51:00.000-07:00

...Sesame Street parody's become your new SNL, only funnier.
Check out Grover doing the Old Spice commercials. Ah-May-Zing.

Think of the humor we all missed in the years between watching Sesame Street and having kids who watch. And, gasp, no Facebook or YouTube to post funny videos on. My God, how did we survive?

LOL and Smiley Face

2010-10-04T22:24:00.000-07:00

LOL has gone from meaning, "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to say" or "just kidding."
Real Life Example- in response to a recent email that someone at work sent me asking if I was pregnant (like it's better to ask via email just in case you're wrong!) the best response I could muster was, "Yes, I'm pregnant. LOL."

How many times have I written LOL when, in fact, I'm not actually laughing out loud at all. Does anyone read "LOL" and think, 'Wow, I must be funny. They laughed outloud. I rule'
And then the few times I actually HAVE lol'd at something, and I write it, I feel silly. It's like there needs to be a RLOL= Really laughed out loud and LOLJTBN= Laughed out loud just to be nice.

Don't even get me started on smiley faces. Remember learning that saying the word "but" erases anything you said before it? Smiley faces are the great "but." And someone very brillant once taught me that nothing can be mean if you say it while smiling. Try this phrase with a big smile, "Wow, her butt looks huge in those jeans. Smiley face!" If "she" is accross the room, she'll see you smiling at her and never know what you're talking about. That's wisdom, folks.

Plus, I just knew the answer to a really hard clue on Final Jeopardy. I'm so smart. LOL. Smiley Face.

My Baby Twitters

2010-09-24T15:25:00.000-07:00

As much of a social media gal I try to be, there is one beast that I just don't identify with.
Twitter.

Do I just not "get" it? What is "it?" WHO ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE?!?

And then I had an epiphany. One that only someone who spends a decent amount of time around a toddler can have. My baby Twitters.
Case in point.
"I'm sitting on the potty, Mommy."
"Let's go to the park, Mommy."
"I'm going to not listen to you, Mommy."
"What does 'ouch' mean, Mommy?"
I could SERIOUSLY go on for hours... and A-girl DOES go on for hours. In fact, all day, every day it's a constant running informative list of what she's doing/thinking/wanting/seeing/eating/excreting. Take away the "Mommy" at the end of those sentences, and it's a bona fideTwitter feed.

This is where my inability to "get it" comes from. A- I already tune out half of what she says, and she's my offspring. Why do I need to have the same info on people I barely know? And B- It feels like just another social media platform to get all excited about, and then eventually neglect. Don't really need the guilt.

It's estimated that there are over 14 million Twitter accounts, with about 3 million posts per day.

So what am I missing? Do you "tweet?" Am I lame? (Don't answer that last one :)

What's Up with A-girl?

2010-09-20T21:15:00.000-07:00

I'm sure many of you have been lying awake at night wondering, 'Where has A-girl been? I haven't seen her on the awesome Braunalicious blog lately.' And then you tossed and turned and got up to check your blog roll just in case, but there was no update to be found.

Now that I've finally charged my camera, here is an unabashed photo share of the A-girl.

This was originally how we were going to announce the new baby, but the other story was just too darn cute.

She calls him, "Huto." And couldn't take her eyes off his awesomeness.

Again with the love and the no being able to take her eyes off Jessie.

There you have it. A-girl is growing like a weed, and looking more like a toddler than a baby by the minute. She also talks INCESSENTLY- there's a whole post about that coming soon.

And now, as A-girl says before she heads off to bed, "Feet dreams."

To Read or NOT to Read

2010-09-13T22:20:00.000-07:00

It's a question I've been asking myself a lot lately.

It all comes down to what I allow myself to ingest through my eyes and ears. I'm not talking about reality TV- you probably know me better (or have at least guessed) that I am a mild reality TV junkie. Mild, as in "fan of Keeping Up With The Kardashians, but refuse to watch Jersey Shore."

We can all agree that having a child changes you, but I had no idea that it would change my TV and literary diet as drastically as it has.

Best example- I can't watch Law & Order: ANYTHING! No SVU or Criminal Intent or Stealing Your Thunder (don't you think they should make that last one?!?) Gives me nightmares. But I still miss the doink doink.

Scrolling through the guide now has become more about avoiding emotional landmines than choosing a show. Extreme Home Makeover? How about "Extreme Hour of Crying". Anything with the words "terminally ill" or "sick child" are OUT.

This extends way beyond TV- my blog reading has changed a lot as well. I used to read two different blogs of families that lost their babies, both under the age of two. Honestly, I was captivated by how these women could endure such a ridiculously gut-wrenching loss and still have the will to live, much less blog. And while I think reading them made me a more appreciative and attentive mom, it got to a point where I couldn't stop thinking about those babies, and feel selfish that I still had my baby with me.

So whether it's an Oprah I have to miss or a song that I take off my iPod, it's my futile attempt to fill my days with positive things. It's hard. My heart strings are still tugged at daily. What I'm finding is that instead of focusing on the lesson there is to be learned from the adversity, and I believe there always is one, that I'm obsessing about what happened, and how to NOT have it happen in my life. Not only missing the point, but also making myself crazy.
If you need me, I'll be watching C-SPAN. Or Dora.

"Over My Heart, Mommy?"

2010-09-08T21:33:00.000-07:00

Baby facing straight on. Head on the right, with eyes, nose and mouth and belly on the left.

So I'm pretty far along to be announcing this pregnancy, and now trying to write this post helped me realize why I've waited so long. Is there a good way to announce a pregnancy besides, "I'm pregnant!" or "I'm knocked up... but don't worry, it's on purpose!" Whether it's the preggo brain or my lack of inventiveness, that's about all I've got.

Come January 2011 the Braunalicious will become even more...licious.
There. That's about as good as it's going to get. Thank goodness for A-girl and the following story to save this.

We've been talking to A-girl about the new baby since about June. At first, she just ignored us- kind of a "If I don't listen to them it's not really happening," attitude, which I totally subscribe to. Then we kept pestering her, and she's finally admitting that there's a baby to be talked about. When we ask her, "Where is the baby?" she says, "Under Mommy's skin." Swear we didn't teach her that.

Today was the BIG ultrasound where they measure everything and tell you the gender. We're having... A BABY! As in, we're not finding out whether it's a boy or a girl. More on that later.

Tonight, I wanted to take a picture of A-girl holding the ultrasound picture. I handed it to her, and asked her to hold it up so I could see it in the picture. And she said, "Right here over my heart, Mommy?" And I tearily said, "Yes, honey. Right over your heart."

Lure of Dland

2010-09-06T19:07:00.000-07:00

What is it about Disneyland that makes it so wonderful?
SO wonderful that we'd brave it on Labor Day, only to be stuck in a line to park for almost 30 minutes stretching back to THE FREEWAY.
Yet, undeterred, we snaked through to the structure, unfolded the stroller, refolded the stroller, boarded the tram, unfolded the stroller again, let some random stranger poke through my stuff, and walked and walked and walked only to get somewhere and wait and wait and wait.
I cant tell if it's old age (snicker) or cynicism or protective motherhood that's making me question my love for this place that I have so long adored.
A-girl had a great day. She saw Goofy, Mickey, Woody, and Jessie and hugged and snapped photos with them all. (Of course, my camera wasn't charged so the pictures were all on a cell phone.) She rode Pirates and the Carousel. Ate a turkey hot dog. Marveled. Mesmerized.
Then again, she's only two.
I know that I love Dland. It's the place Mr. Braunalicious and I had our first real date. Shared the first REAL kiss during the darkened Fantasmic. Rode countless of rides holding hands and spent countless evenings chowing on clam chowder bread bowls and ice cream.
But something about today's trip just rubbed me the wrong way, and I need an intervention.
I'm thinking date night with Mr. Braunalicious. No strollers or Fantasyland, just fast rides and stroller dodging and ice cream without sharing. Staying past 10pm (gasp!) without disparraging looks from kid-less teens and skipping back to the car without a sleeping toddler in my aching arms.
Dland date night scheduled, and a rekindling of a flame of love for a place that I grew up adoring.

Zest

2010-08-28T22:25:00.000-07:00

Oh, zest...where did you go?
Did you disappear when both of our laptops decided to get viruses and die?
Are you hiding since I can no longer blog at work?
Blah!
It's not as if my brain doesn't still think in blog posts :)
So here's to rediscovering the zest, wherever you are.

TLC called...

2010-08-19T15:56:00.000-07:00

... or at least they should have.
I walked into the house today and it looked like the opening scene of an espisode of Hoarders.
Okay, maybe it was just one pile of things, and maybe it's because we cleaned out the garage, but SERIOUSLY?!?
What I think made it really feel like a mini-Hoarders outbreak was the randomness of the stuff. Two big laundry baskets with pictures that are meant to be put...somewhere. Two folding chairs- one with cover, one without. A platic box with maternity clothes. More clothes on top of that. A wooden rocking horse. A cardboard box housing a yearbook and NET yearbook. Two towels that are gorgeous and plushy and I have NO idea where they came from. A wooden chip & dip bowl. An Ergo baby carrier.
See what I mean?
So, yea. We cleaned it up. And by that I mean we moved most of the stuff upstairs into the bedroom where, at this current moment, I can't see it and can therefore delude myself into thinking it's gone.
I wanted to take a picture, but I was afraid someone actually would send it to Hoarders.
And now, on to tackle the desk.
Does it ever end?

Friday the 13th

2010-08-13T17:42:00.000-07:00

Not being a big person of superstition, people are still shocked when I tell them that one Friday the 13th, about 3 1/2 years ago, I married this guy...

It wasn't the original plan. First, we booked our honeymoon. That's right. Booked our honeymoon BEFORE our wedding. (At least it gave us a deadline :) Then we picked a date- Saturday the 14th. You know, just a date before our honeymoon that we both liked. And then we started looking for venues, and found that the place we loved the most was unavailable on Saturday the 14th, plus Fridays were cheaper. No one really realized it was Friday the 13th until just before we signed the contract. The venue-woman was horrified, and was sure that Mr. Braunalicious and I would be too.
We looked at one another, shrugged our shoulders, and said, "Who cares!"
I thought about theming all black, and having our bridesmaids carry black cats instead of flowers.

Instead, it was a gorgeous day, the girls wore pink and carried bouquets of lillies and roses. Probably a better choice.

Reminiscing today.

It's NOT just a stick...

2010-07-30T22:53:00.000-07:00

...it's a magic wand.
No, seriously.
We found it just laying there on the grass at the park. Obviously it's previous owner didn't realize it's power and carelessly discarded it as if it were just a...stick.
Here's why we KNOW its magical.
At the park last weekend, A-girl ate it on the sidewalk.
HUGE owchie.
Tears. Lots of tears.
And then we waved the wand over the owchie, and it didn't hurt anymore.
Magic.

A few days ago, I was getting my purse from the backseat of the car, and the magic wand fell out.
I looked at it, lying there on the street, and thought, "If I just left this here, I wonder if the next person who found it would know that it's not just a stick."
Thankfully I decided to not find out, and put the magic wand back in the car. Later on that evening, someone bummed their head, and, man, did that magic wand come in handy.

I Missed My Own Party :(

2010-07-20T21:58:00.000-07:00

My day as the featured author on Smartly OC was Saturday July 18!
But that's okay! You can still read my post from Smartly OC here.
And be sure to leave a comment and say how wonderful I am so the owners might believe it and let me stick around :)
Oh, and read the other awesome posts, including Ways To Stay Married Through Home Renovation.
Done asking favors.
Here's to canned frosting! Cheers!

Need a Good Laugh?

2010-07-19T22:31:00.000-07:00

Because for whatever reason, reading this story today made me laugh so hard I CRIED. Actual tears.

"So, my son has always been smart. I don't like to be a mom who brags, but the kid is smart, bottom line. He already knows the geography of more countries than I do and can add, subtract, multiply, divide and do fractions. He is 6. He's smart. whatever.

When he was 3 yrs old, whenever we had shopping to do in the mall, I would bribe him with Dippin Dots afterward, if he behaved himself - which he always did.

So, one afternoon after doing some shopping, my husband reminded me that we had to stop at the Dippin Dots counter on the way out. We approached the counter to find a particularly grumpy looking individual working behind it (I think the guy is the owner).

"One kid scoop of chocolate, please," Q said to him.

The man replied nothing and got to work filling a bowl for him.

"Sir, why is this place called 'Dippin Dots?'" Q asked the man.

"I don't know. It just is." the man replied, in no mood for conversation.

"Well, cuz you don't really DIP them at all." Q continued.

The man ignored him.

"And they aren't really dots either. Dots aren't three-dimensional. A dot would be flat." Q pressed on.

At this point, my husband and I are smiling at one another - brimming with pride over how smart Q is AND how much he is annoying this guy.

Q went silent for a moment and suddenly cried, "YOU SHOULD CALL THEM 'LICK MY BALLS!'"

I almost spat out my gum. My husband started turning red and laughing.

Q, undaunted, kept going, "Cuz you lick em! And really, they're balls! Lick my balls!I think you would sell more!" The poor kid had no idea his idea had a double innuendo. He simply didn't understand why 'dippin dots' was a suitable name when it was so misleading.

To this day, we call them 'lick my balls.'

And the guy never even cracked a smile"

Our very own Spelling Bee

2010-07-17T21:08:00.000-07:00

Having a 2-year-old that repeats EVERYTHING has required Mr. Braunalicious and I to become quite the spellers.
Me: I think she's getting T-I-R-E-D.
At the wedding shower: Can you H-I-D-E the C-A-K-E?

Not that those are ridiculously hard words, but here's what happens in my head when I'm trying to spell something instead of say it, even something as easy as "tired.".

Mental Thoughts- 'It's 9. A-girl is getting really tired. Maybe if I say something, the husband will take her upstairs and bathe her. But if she knows what we're saying, we may have a minor meltdown, seeing as how she IS tired.'
Out loud- "Honey, I think she's getting T-I...R...D. I mean, T-I-R...E-D."

God forbid she ever be E-X-H-A-U-S-T-E-D or C-O-N-S-T-I-P-A-T-E-D.
Those might take me all day. :)

Big..umm...you know.

2010-07-16T22:13:00.000-07:00

(Title is for you, Hol. Luv the family name for these pieces of awesomeness.)
I'd forgotten how much I LOVE these.

They taste like summer in my mouth.Lots more to catch up on soon.

And did I share about our recent family pictures?
Here's a teaser.

And here's our awesome photographer.
Hugs!

Not the FIRST adjective I'd use to describe myself...

2010-07-07T21:41:00.000-07:00

Well, if someone else says something about you, does that make it automatically true?
If so, then consider me Smart(ly) :)

It's a new blog/essay/catcher of awesomeness started by these two great women that I've had the privilege of meeting recently- Marcy at The Glamorous Life and Andrea at Hip Moms Who Work. Smartly is a collection of essays, one new each day, written by local people. Just good reads, with no product pimping or whrrling or anything besides honestly good writing.

Smartly OC launched today, and unbelievably, I have the honor of writing a post for Smartly OC! I promise there will be a HUGE, self-indulgent post when my Smartly OC day comes, but for now, head on over and read the first few awesome posts.

2010-07-03T15:24:00.000-07:00

I'm going to start a group on Facebook called, "Your updates bum me out and I want to unfriend you but I'm afraid you might do something stupid."

My FB friends seem to be divided into three distinct groups...
#1- Little Miss Sunshine
This is the uber-happy, everything is wonderful, aren't my kids the cutest and they are ALWAYS well-behaved girl. She uses status updates as an outlet for her unrequited dreams of being a beauty queen. "I'd like to have world peace, and thank my adorable, attentive, and romantic husband for our children who are the image of perfection and are sitting quietly watching me post this profound sentence."

#2- Debbie Downer
Every update screams for love in the form of comments, likes, or reassurance. "I have no friends and I'm going to a concert tomorrow. I'm sure no one wants to come with me." This person drives me CRAZY! I've learned to hide them and move on. Or wait until a sufficient amount of time has passed and unfriend.

#3-Realistic, Sarcastic Spice Girls
These are my REAL peeps. Life is mostly good, updates are mostly funny. Not every update is directly related to themselves- but never world peace. These are the girls I hang with in real life.

#4- Men
Updates are usually about sports, or straight up descriptions of what they've been up to, unless they've just been dumped, and then FB turns into their outlet for women anger. I love my men friends.

Any others I should add? :)

Hopping off the Birthday Train

2010-07-01T21:55:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: I realize, in advance, that this post officially qualifies me for the "Bad Mom Club."

I didn't throw my two-year old a birthday party.
In fact, I was out of town for work until the day before her birthday. I was pretty sure that when I got home, she might not recognize me. And, in fact, when I walked in the door, I was greeted with, "I want to watch Dora."
Great.
Missed you too.

Last year, when A-girl turned one, we threw TWO birthday parties- one Winnie the Pooh party with friends and family on the actual day, and then ANOTHER party over the weekend for the family that couldn't be there on a weeknight.

But let's face it- that was as much about her turning one as it was us SURVIVING her first year!

Despite the fact that I did nothing to instigate it, a few weeks before her birthday, A-girl started saying, "Aunt Julie is throwing me a birthday party." Thank God. Maybe I'll just teach her to call out someone new every year and I'll be off the hook for at least 10 years :)
But really, thank God for Aunt Julie. She threw Abby an adorable Dora BBQ with our families.

So I'm officially ~~becoming my mother~~ adopting the birthdays of my childhood for my kids. Family BBQ's for the most part, with a BIG party sprinkled in every five years or so. (For my 8th birthday, I got to go to Knott's Berry Farm and take one friend. Then, my mom made me take this girl that I didn't even like just because she had invited me to her party. Obviously, I'm totally over it.)

So where do you stand? Are birthday parties worth it?
Oh, and Happy Birthday A-girl. Thank you for being the most incredible child that we ever could have asked for, and for teaching us how to be semi-capable parents. You are my greatest joy, and I love you.

Where are the trumpets?

2010-06-28T22:01:00.000-07:00

Because SOMETHING should be playing for my triumphant return to blogging.

Here's my brain over the last month...
"Hmm, it's been about a week since I've posted. I should probably post something. Doesn't even matter what really. But I don't have any new pictures. I'll do it tomorrow."
"Crap. Now I haven't posted for almost two weeks. I have to think up something good to post about. It can't just be something regular or people will wonder why I've been away for two weeks (all 5 of you who read this blog). But nothing big is happening. O... A-girl's birthday is in a few days. I'll post after that."
"Shnikes. Three weeks later and still no post. Now I'm just lame. I should just give up on blogging. Just kidding. Next week I'll make my triumphant return."
Now here we are, week 4, and I'm finally posting again...about my lack of posting. But WAIT! Let me make this a metaphor (hopefully a funny one) and then we can all move on.

Not posting for a month is like being constipated. The more days that pass by, you get more and more frightened of having to do it. Then, finally, you grin and bear it, and in the end, everything comes out okay.

To make up for that totally awesome metaphor and this scintillating post, here are some pics of the little lady's 2nd birthday.
Oh, how I love her.

Yes, her shirt says, "I'm awesome."

It was a wonderful Dora party, replete with hats and creepy Dora masks.

And now, my baby is two.

And I'm ba-ack!

O Negative

2010-06-02T22:48:00.000-07:00

My blood type is O Negative.
In contrast, one of the people I love most in life and aspire to be is B Positive.
How annoying is that?
When she first told me her blood type, the only response I could muster was, "Of COURSE you're B Positive."

So I've decided that my tendency toward negativity can be blamed totally and completely on my blood type.

"That glass is TOTALLY half empty."
"I'm never going to make it." (usually muttered while running up an extremely large hill. Awful)
(when baking) "This is going to taste awful."

Then I realized something. I was talking to a good friend, who was telling me about her girlfriend who is very barely pregnant but started telling people. My friend was worried that she was sharing her news too soon- what if something happened? So she said, "I'm excited for her, but trying to be the voice of reason."
And here's what I heard myself say...
"You know, is something does happen, it's not going to suck any less just because you told her that it might. The best thing you can do is be excited for her, and be available to comfort her if something does happen."

Don't think my blood type will be changing anytime soon, but I'm definitely hoping my attitude will get the picture and
B Positive.

Do you know the way to...

2010-05-31T18:35:00.000-07:00

San Jose?
la la la la la la la la la laaaaaa.....
We do!
Flew to San Jose for a wonderful weekend- seeing family and good friends, and a beautiful wedding.
A-girl's first plane trip! (but I didn't take one picture)
She did AMAZINGLY well- not one tear. Before we left Daddy taught her...
Daddy: Airplanes are...
A-girl: very noisy.
Daddy: So A-girl has to be a...
A-girl: brave girl.
And she was.

On the way there, Mr. Braunalicious threw up twice on the plane- motion sickness that's he battled since he was a kid.
On the way home, he took Dramamine, didn't barf, but was a total sleepy zombie for the rest of the day.
If it was up to me, I'd have him barf twice and then be done :)

The wedding we attended was of one of Mr. Braunalicious' close college friends, the wonderful and beautiful Shannon. She was a radiant bride, and the wedding was gorgeous- so well thought out, with tons of little touches that brought everything together seamlessly. The ceremony was outdoors, and after they said their vows but before walking down the aisle, they released butterflies. Incredible. Congratulations Shannon and Kerry!

Great weekend- now we're just resting up for the next few exciting weeks.
Happy Memorial Day, and thank you from the bottom of my heart to all the military men and women and their families who have made the ultimate sacrifice for us. We don't celebrate you enough.

Sounds that drive me CRAZY

2010-05-25T22:32:00.000-07:00

It's 10pm, and I am sitting on the couch next to my husband who is eating...

Dinosaur chicken nuggets. Seriously.
And the sound of his chewing and swallowing and saliva-ing is making me absolutely want to do one of the following 3 options.
1. Punch him in the mouth so hard that he has to have his jaw wired shut and drink from a straw for a few months. Although he's not exactly a quiet swallow-er, so that might not solve the problem.
2. Run around the room screaming, "OMG. What the h*ll is wrong with you? I can hear every single morsel of food in your mouth swimming around and my ears are going to bleed."
3. (My current choice) Sit, plugging the ear that's facing him with my index finger, and every so often when there's a ridiculously loud smacking noise, cast an evil look in his direction.

Good news is that I only want to punch my husband when he's eating. I know a lot of people who want to punch their husbands a lot more often than that, so maybe we're doing something right.
I think we can all agree that what we've learned from this is twofold...
1. I'm a four year old.
2. My husband has a hidden microphone in his esophagus that makes everything that travels down it extremely loud.
Any noise that drives you THIS crazy?
(Well, maybe not this crazy, but bugs you a lot? Or a little? Give me SOMETHING here people.)

My Letter to Juliet

2010-05-20T22:53:00.000-07:00

Just saw "Letters to Juliet" and LOVED it.
I had NO idea that Casa de Guilietta existed,

much less that volunteers from Verona ("secretaries" of Juliet) actually collect every letter stuck between the damp crevices surrounding the area and respond.
To every. single. letter.
They say that some write for advice, some write of great love stories, some write of wishes or dreams or hopes related to this great thing called love.
While adorably predictable, the movie got me thinking, 'What would I write in a letter to Juliet?'
I have no need for romantic advice (unless Juliet can get my husband to both clean the dishes AND wipe the counter in the same evening!) and I'm only 11 years into the greatest love story of my own life, but here is what I'd like to tell Juliet.

Dear Juliet,
Thank you.
You give hope to the hopeless, romantics a reason to continue to believe in love, and yearning women the bravery to write a love note to a complete stranger and stick it on a wall with chewed-up gum.
Despite the fact that you're fictional, women flock from across the globe to the place where you might have lived had you actually, you know...been alive.
But sometimes, this is what we need as women. As reason to have hope and dreams and think that love is this everlasting, eternal, bigger-than-us wave that can sweep over any one of us at any time.
Even for us old married women, at least for this one, a smoldering ember of romanticism still burns. And sometimes it takes a force outside ourselves to keep that tiny flame alive after years of marriage and babies and late nights of exhaustion and minivans and... where was I?
Oh, right. Thank you.
Love, Carrie

REAL friends...

2010-05-17T19:09:00.000-07:00

...would have told me that my "cute hairdo" this morning,
(the one where I took the front piece and twisted it back and pinned it with one bobby pin and felt like a hip young mom)
perfectly showed off a gray hair in the front.
Lame.

Super cute hip mom? Fail :)
At least I'm still smiling.

Bedtime Routine Transcript

2010-05-12T21:25:00.000-07:00

The conversations that take place between father and daughter during bedtime are HILARIOUS in our house. A sampling, all overheard this evening...

A-girl: Go up and take a bath
Daddy: No, no bath. Just jammies.
A: Ernie upside down. Pengiun pants (repeated until Daddy understands penguin)
D: Oh, pengiun pants. Cool. What's this? Pajama shirt?
A: Yea! I love that stuff!

D: Did I put your diaper on right?
A: I did it!
D: You did it?!? Daddy did it!
A: Put on shoes? I can do it!

A: I go for a walk! (repeated)
D: How about we brush your teeth instead?
A: That sounds yummy!
D: What do we sing when we do this?
A: The alphabet
D: (slowly singing alphabet to allow extra teeth brushing time)
A: I'll do it! (takes toothbrush and tries to sing alphabet and brush.)

A: Like a baby!
D: Hold you like a baby?
A: Like a baby, daddy. And sing Belle. Thank you.
I love this kid.

Dia de los Madres 2010

2010-05-11T22:26:00.000-07:00

It was a simple Mother's Day at the Braunalicious house, which I'm hearing is not unlike a lot of other people's Mother's Days.
Leave it to the moms of the world to keep it simple.
Two cards for me, and a squeaky clean, vacuumed, mommy-mobile.

Perfection.

My whole hand

2010-05-06T11:02:00.000-07:00

On the way home from the park today,

A-girl quietly slid her little sticky palm into my hand.
It was a sweet moment, one that made me silently smile. And instinctively, I turned my hand a bit to let her grab my two middle fingers so she could get a good grasp and we could move forward.
A-girl stopped, wiggled her fingers around, and held my whole hand.
She's old enough to hold MY WHOLE HAND.
We walked the rest of the way home, holding hands, talking about insects, smelling flowers, and listening to the pattering steps of her pink shiny shoes on the sidewalk. It was a good day.
Someday, this will be us.

I hope we're still holding hands.

Red Shirt of Accomplishment

2010-05-03T13:13:00.000-07:00

January of 2009-set a goal:

Run Lake MV without stopping by A-girl's bday in June.

3.1 hilly miles.

Seemed impossible. This is us, Dec. 2008 at D-land.

So I did what any normal, sane person would do.
Bought stuff.

Went to RoadRunner and bought shoes and running capri's and a red running shirt. A cardinal red, high v-neck, sleeveless shirt made from that slippily material that is supposed to wick away moisture and keep you smelling rosy.

Mind you, in January of 2009, I'd not run a day in my life that was not required of me by a P.E. coach. The only "training" I'd endured was Mrs. Mitchell yelling at our 7th grade class with her open-topped straw hat, "Keep your breathing steady and you can run forever."
Honestly, I'm NOT built for running. You know, those lithe, thin, bouncy people who eat carrots for lunch and have a gait like a filly. I'm more the thick-thighed, burger-eating, plodder/stomper type.
Nonetheless, I was in need of a goal that required me to get my "baby weight" off. My husband is one of the areformentioned annoying people who could run forever, so I chose running so we could do it together.

That first day, I wriggled into my running goodies and took a good, long look in the mirror.
The red running shirt looked horrible. It was too small and too tight and too ridiculous. Replaced with a baggy t-shirt, I set off for my first mile. And almost ~~died~~ made it whole mile.

Fastforward to June of 2009- A-girl's birthday. Goal completed- lake run with Mr. Braunalicious.

A-girl and I June 2009.

Fastfoward again to my birthday in August of 2009. I'm still running, but not with the same fervor in the beginning. Decide I need a new goal.
365 in 365 is born.
I'm going to complete 365 miles in 365 days.

Start tracking my miles and running 2-3 miles consistently 3 days a week. It's addicting, just as I'd hoped. I love "banking" miles.

Fastforward to January 2010. I realize I've been "running" for a year. I'm WAY ahead of my 365 mile 1/2 way marker and have finished 200 miles in just five months. Need a new goal.

Wearing my running capris in Jan 2010.

NEW GOAL

10K- 6.2 miles.

May 2, 2010.

Fastforward to yesterday. It's the morning of the 10K. Been training consistently for 2 months and building my mileage. Only run 6.2 miles once, but I'm pretty confident that I can finish again. Nervous butterflies are tapping on my stomach walls, but I've committed and there are three other people running with me.

As I start to get dressed, I pull out the running capri's that I bought almost a year and a half ago, and slide into them with ease. Open my shirt drawer, and there it is. Staring at me.

The red running shirt.

I haven't tried it on since I bought it, thinking one day I'd donate it to good will for a small child to use for a Halloween costume. Against better judgement, I decide to see what it looks like so I can confidently toss it without guilt.

Wait a second.

Did the seams on this thing get longer? Now it fits to my hips.

And it's definitely looser than before.

The fabric doesn't seem to be stretching in agony across my waist.

A quick cautious peek in the mirror reveals the truth.

It fits.

It looks good.

I'm wearing it to my first 10K.

Before and After

We finished strong, crossing the finish line together at...

1:06!

One hour and six minutes!!!

I didn't have a time goal in mind, but basic calculations set me up to be ecstatic with anything under 1:14.

Tears welled and I was choked up as I sprinted accross the finish line.

Now I'm so glad that I still have the red running shirt, and wearing it will always remind me that I can do anything I set my mind to.

It's my Red Shirt of Accomplishment.

Don't be surprised if you see me wearing it more often now.

Digitally Hidden Treasures

2010-04-28T22:38:00.000-07:00

Take the next 5 minutes to play a little game with me called Digitally Hidden Treasures.
Play along with me, step by step.
Step 1- Open up your "My Documents" folder.
Maraka says, "Don't ask questions, just DO IT!"
Step 2- Decide whether you're playing the "Pictures" version, or the "Document" version of the game. If you chose pictures, open the "My Pictures" file. If Documents, open "Word" folder.
(Mine's called wrd, cause I'm cool like that.)
Step 3- Find a mysteriously named file that you haven't opened in a while.
Don't you think that how you organize your files is how you'd organize your brain if it was a computer?
Step 4- Enjoy the contents. Let it take you back.
Waaaay back, sometimes.
Step 5- Share where your adventure took you in a comment on this post!

I'll share my Digitally Hidden Treasure here- both a picture and a document.
Picture first.

This is from a folder named "Random." Picture title is, "Worst Car Accident Ever."
I clearly remember the day I took this photo- driving up Avery Parkway to my in-laws, I was in the passenger seat and saw this in the distance.
Ahh, the sweet sense of the opportunity to scare the s*it out of my husband.
I yelled, "Oh my GOD! Look at that accident!" He swerved and snapped his head to my side and slammed on the brakes. Seeing the overturned Barbie car, he deadpanned back, "Wow. Nice one, honey."
I made him stop the car so I could take a picture. I had every intention of creating a whole, long post about this horrible, gruesome accident we say in gory detail, and ending with this picture.
I must say, this picture has gotten less funny since I became a parent. Now I look and think, "What did happen? Is the child who was driving this okay? These things aren't cheap- who would leave it on the side of the road? Gosh, maybe the child was actually hurt, so badly that the parent just left the car there."
So now, I'm a horrible person.
But it's still kinda funny.

The document I found I won't share, but I will tell you about it. It's just floating in the "wrd" folder named, "Dear A-girl." It's a letter that I didn't even remember that I'd started when she was three months old, and it's 10 pages long (and counting) about the story of meeting her dad, our relationship, our wedding, her pregnancy, the day she was born, and all the life lessons that I want to share. It's something I intend for her to have when I'm gone. I hope that A-girl is 80 years old before she reads it.

I LOVE this game. It's like nostalgic Choose-Your-Adventure.
Where did Digitally Hidden Treasures take you?!?

First crispy day of 2010

2010-04-25T23:04:00.000-07:00

It's official- at least, it is in our world.
Summer is coming.
We can tell from the crispy red skin we're all sporting in the Braunalicious house, complete with a warming effect long after coming in from the sun, hyper color fingerprint shaped indentations testing just how crispy we are, and tan lines.
Oh, tan lines, how I've missed you.

Back soon with deets on where we were when all this crispiness occurred.

America's Next Top Toddler Model

2010-04-20T10:15:00.000-07:00

Move over, Tyra Banks.
Here comes A-girl!

The following comments ~~totally did~~ would never run through my head ...

Smize!
Although this "look" is cute, she's probably tooting
Reminds me of Ariel coming out of the water in The Little Mermaid when she realizes she doesn't know how to walk.
Rar, I'm a tiger (stolen from a witty FB friend)
She totally has cankles, but at least they're baby cankles
We are royally screwed when she grows up

10 Lessons from Dora

2010-04-16T10:53:00.000-07:00

Hola! Soy Carrie!

The A-girl's into watching Dora, and though
she's still not grasping a lot of it, I'm learning A LOT.

1. Spanglish is fun, and doesn't have to be racist or inappropriate.

2. I should always have a talking monkey with me. Best personal assistant ever.

3. Everything should be said loud- really loud.

4. When you ask someone a question, wait for the answer. Even if it requires awkward silence. Sometimes, waiting in awkward silence makes people confess ridiculous things. Seriously.

5. Breaking out into song at random is awesome.

6. Always carry a backpack. And a talking map. You never know when you'll need either.

7. Dora has no parental supervision, and she's turning out okay.

8. Knowing your colors solves every problem.

9. When there are two paths to choose from in life, a huge mouse cursor should come and click the correct one. That would cut down on a lot of life issues.

10. No swiping. If it's not yours, don't take it. This includes boats, cookies, rainbows, and anything else that Swiper the Sneaky Fox may want.

Okay, I've learned 11 things.

11. There are no stupid questions. Especially if the answer is totally obvious and sitting right next to you and you just want to yell at the TV, "IT'S RIGHT THERE, DORA! JUST TURN AROUND! UGH!"

Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

And if you've never watched THIS video, it's a must. (This link is not the best quality, but they took the original off YouTube. It's still a classic.)