Recently when Katrina gets herself into a fit Stefan has been trying to tell her to think of her happy place to help her get control of herself.
Stefan in his best yoga tape voice: Katie, think of you and Ecru Bunny running on the beach.
But <sob> Ecru <sob> doesn’t <sob> know how to <sob> run <sob><sob><sob>
Personally I find this method hysterical since she has no idea what he’s talking about and sometimes it just makes her more upset since Ecru Bunny is not in her hand, RIGHT NOW, and she’s not sucking her fingers either. Well, the other night Katie and I were making dinner while Stefan was continuing to install the grout while Tristan was in the pack-‘n-play. He started screaming about being in there and Katie says, Tristan, think of you and Mr. Mole running on the beach.
If only he knew how to run…
I am sitting here in the study with the windows shut listening to the sound of what can only be described as Spanish-Techno-Polka music. I’m not sure this is an actual genre but it sure would characterize the noise coming from our neighbor’s house — who incidentally also has their windows shut. On the other side we have very lovely neighbors and on our street in general we have a great crowd of families. The house that is currently channeling all power for our listening pleasure for the fourth time this week, however, is cursed. This is the third family that’s lived there and I long for the days when we thought the first owners were awful. Compared to the current occupants they were wonderful. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go find a sombrero, snap some lederhosen on the kids and start dancing.
Saturday Tristan and I were home alone while the girls went out of town for the day. What did we do with our day as bachelors? I took him shopping for shoes and jeans of course. While we did have some luck in the shoe department, the jeans eluded me. I was taunted all day by numerous pairs of gorgeous size 33 Earnest Sewn Jakimo jeans in their luxurious Japanese denim. Try as I might I could not squeeze my (slightly larger than) size 34 butt into them and I am in no way willing to pay full price for them. Ah the joys of outlet shopping.
I am not generally a person who is plagued by neuroses, but having only recently developed a fashion sense (obsession) I am some what insecure in this area. Ever since I read the many posts where Dooce rants and raves about belts matching shoes I would worry every time I put on a brown belt with brown shoes. I didn’t want to be one of those belt matches shoes guys. This weekend as I was looking for a new eurotrash belt I had an epiphany. The guy on the other side of the rack opened his shoe box and began looking for the perfect match, with a subtle shiny brass buckle. It was then I realized what she meant, and I will never worry again. I don’t own a pair of boat shoes, I don’t have a single Polo brand polo shirt and nobody ever calls me Chaz.
Sunday brought more solo parenting and the realization that I would go nuts having to chase Tristan around for more than half an hour a day. With only 20 minutes of overlapping naps I barely had time to go to the bathroom. I have no idea how Jen does it. Sunday night Katie asked for burritos, so she and I spent some time in the kitchen cooking chicken and beans only to find after everything was ready that the tortillas were moldy. Having always heard how easy flour tortillas are to make and having had many TOD obsessions with baking I figure I would give it a shot. We didn’t have any shortening so i found a recipe that called for vegetable oil. — it is interesting how different cultures can take the same recipe and make very different things, this one could have easily been made into noodles if I cut it thin and boiled it. — Even though the tortillas came out tasting more like flat bread, Katie loved them. If you plan to try it yourself definitely use a recipe that calls for shortening and more than 5 minutes of resting.
Monday night Katie got to experience her first real (non documentary) movie as we watched Cars. I think we no longer have any hope of avoiding the black hole that is Disney.
One last funny story to reward you for reading my ramblings and punish Katie in front of her future fiance. Sunday morning she walked up to Jen holding a carabiner and asked what is that thing called that you put on your nipples.
Over the weekend we needed to take the car seats out of the SUV to haul some junk so when Stefan put them back in he put Tristan’s facing forward — in our state children need to be one year and 20 pounds — since his birthday is next week and he’s well past the weight limit. Yesterday when I put him in his forward facing seat for the first time he looked all around, craning his neck to see, and then looked right at me and said Uh-oh.
Her Daddy’s self-proclaimed fashion goal is to look like Eurotrash.
Clearly, she gets her fashion sense from him.