Five {finally}

This past spring our little girl turned five. Maybe it is time you got to know little Miss H a little bit better. There is a song (I think it is Garth Brooks??) That goes, "She's sun and rain, She's fire and ice, a little crazy, but it's nice...and when she gets mad you best leave her alone...." I swear the person who wrote that song knew our Miss H in heaven. She is an exercise in extremes. Luckily for us, usually she spends her time in the extreme on the happy side. But, when she's on the other end, watch out. (We love her both ways)She is crazy and so funny (and she knows it) and loves to be the center of attention (usually). When she feels shy or nervous, she gets very silly. She loves to make people laugh and is pretty good at it, too.
Things she loves: Bananas with peanut butter, singing and dancing, Polly pockets, drawing, reading, her sister, berries, swimming, pretending, sushi, visiting the local botanical gardens, doing "projects" (anything involving tape, paper scissors, etc and a big mess) and saying "seriously." Almost everything she says is followed by, "Seriously, mom" (or whomever she is speaking to) eg. "Slug bug silver! Seriously, mom!"or, "Seriously, dad! Will you get my bike out?"Things she does NOT like: being interrupted. She will get mad at the interrupter, then start over from the very beginning of what she was saying... even if she only had one word left to say. Heights. Being too hot or too cold. Getting her hair done (yet she wants it long like Rapunzel). All bugs except Rollie polies and baby worms.

We love our miss H so very much! She brings so much spunk into our little family. I cannot imagine our family without her. She has such a big personality for such a little girl...she's been that way from the beginning, and we wouldn't change one thing about her! (except maybe the part where she doesn't like her hair done...)

On being tan

So, three weeks ago I got the first tan I have ever had in my life. It was spray on.

Let me explain:

I AM SO WHITE.

I have never been tan in my whole entire life. I have never "laid out" or done any other sun-worshipping type activities. I have had some nasty nasty sunburns (part of my misspent youth...) and they resulted in... a few moles that needed to be removed. They sat there mocking me from atop my pasty white skin. My two daughters often look at my arms and exclaim "look how white mom is!!!" As a kid, I was always the cream filling in the middle of my friends' dark tans (we'd make Oreo's with our arms...) I don't know how to make this clearer: I am really really really white.

I always thought it would be so great to be tan. I always felt (just a little) envious when we would visit my Husband's family and they all have this beautiful dark skin...and then I live with my hubby and kids and their beautiful skin. It was so not fair! I thought I would feel prettier, more confident (and maybe even sexier) if I were even just a *little* tan.

So, I took the plunge. With my sis there for moral support (and a tan of her own) I got a spray tan from my friend, who does them out of her home. She did a great job. But I didn't expect what followed.

The first thing my 5 year old said was, "Mommy, you look different and weird. I think you should go and wash that stuff off" to which my 8 yr old heartily agreed. I went to look in the mirror to see what they saw, and I looked fine, but I didn't feel like I was looking at me in the mirror. It was strange to look in the mirror and not feel like myself.

I didn't tell my husband what I did, and when he got home he said, "It looks nice, But I like your white skin" Hmmm. Not what I expected. It was the perfect answer, but it was not what I expected.

I enjoyed my week being tan. I really did. However, I did not feel any prettier than I did before. I didn't feel any more confident. (I felt just as sexy as always.) I guess what I learned from finally getting a tan is that I am okay with my skin. Being (really) white doesn't really bother me anymore. So, let others get a beautiful golden brown every summer. I will apply my SPF 70 and stay under a shade umbrella and stay (really) white. And I won't feel bad about it (anymore). I will no longer be envious.

Well, maybe just a little tiny bit...but not much.

Excuses

First off, the big news. It is a boy turtle in my tummy! We are very excited at our house. I am a little nervous. After 8 years of all girl stuff all the time, it is a bit weird to be thinking about boy stuff. It'll be a blast, though, and I am really looking forward to it.(except for the part where I will probably have to take my turn with the cub scouts. Ugh. Sorry, judge me if you will, but ugh.) The girls were hoping it would be a boy, so they are ecstatic as well. :)

Now, to my excuses for being MIA for so long.

1. I am still waiting for that burst of energy you are supposed to get around 4 months. I am almost 6 months now, and it hasn't shown up yet. Grrr. After about 1:30, I am pretty much useless. I am amazed I have made dinner as often as I have been. (almost every day!) Although, when I think of what those dinners have been, I feel pretty embarrassed. I have made it to my aerobics and yoga classes without fail, so that is one accomplishment I remind myself of when I look at the pile of ironing that is almost as tall as my 5 year old...

2. It is summer. That means swim lessons, dance lessons, hours and hours at the park, picnics at the Gardens, pony riding at the farm, visits to Grandma and Grandpa's house in ID, spending time with Uncle Russ who just got home from his mission (Yay!!!) and no time to sit on the computer and update my blog. I think this list of activities also contributes to reason #1 for being MIA.

I am trying to be better and update this thing more often, and even post pictures (for grandmas). You gotta have a little compassion for me, though. This little turtle is killing me off...:)

The Turtle in my tummy

There is a turtle in my tummy.

Yup, we are expecting! Due the first week in October.

At the first Dr.'s visit, the little Doppler couldn't pick up the heartbeat, so I got a quick ultrasound to make sure there really was something in there. Sure enough, there it was. I brought the pictures home to my husband who said, "looks like a turtle to me". From that moment on I have only thought of it as the turtle in there.

The next time I went to the Dr. he had the same trouble with finding the heartbeat... a lovely fibroid is sitting right in the way. (Apparently fibriods are "very common in women my age"...isn't getting older great? Waaa... I want my 20 year old uterus back!!) So, I got another ultrasound. It was confirmed the turtle in my tummy is not a turtle but a human. Here's proof:
As for those who wonder why I waited so long to tell, and why I did it on facebook (and then turned off my phone for the day)... It is hard for me to explain. I really hate to let go of our little secret. Once my Hubby knows, I don't want to tell anyone else. So, when the time came to let the cat out of the bag, I did it electronically. then kept to myself until I had gotten used to the idea that the news was general knowledge...weird, but I am a hormonal pregnant woman so I get to be nuts, right? (the answer s yes...)

My lunchtime conversation

Today, after making my five year old pancakes for breakfast (instead of the usual cold cereal), ignoring my project for work and playing littlest pet shop, after I didn't vacuum and did princess puzzles instead, we sat down to lunch (I even cut her PB&J with a heart cookie cutter for fun). After all that, this was our conversation:

"Mom?"
"What sweetie?"
"Do you know what my favorite days in the world are? They are Christmas, My birthday, Halloween, Easter, and the days Daddy gets to stay home so he can play with me."


Don't get me wrong, I like that playing with Daddy is so special to her...really, I do.


But, come on.

I am not who you think I am

That's right. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings I am not myself. Who am I? I am

Jackie Chan.

For the past 3.5 years I have been going to an exercise class with a heavy mixed martial arts influence on MWF mornings. I love the way I feel after I've gone, and I like(ish) it while I am there, but most days, I need an alter ego to get me through it. So, in my brain, I become Jackie Chan fighting all the bad guys (and I always kick their butts). Except on the days when the teacher really is kicking my butt, then I am Rocky Balboa in between rounds when he is fighting the Russian and Paulie is leaning over his shoulder yelling "NO PAIN! NO PAIN! NO PAIN!"

In all actuality, I might not be able to kick a bad guy's butt, but I think I could do some damage. I once took out a chunk from my thumb when I was being extra "Jackie".

Tuesday mornings I am:

Isabella Carmalita Torrez, Daughter of a wealthy Latin shipping merchant.

It is Zumba day. Truth is, I am very far from being my alter ego Isabella. I figure, though, that in a year and a half I'll be ready to go clubbing in Cabo and not look like a complete idiot. Just a semi-idiot. Yeah. It's that bad. But fun.

*Until my teacher who slipped a disc comes back, I am girl on elliptical watching American Idol on Tuesdays.

On Thursdays

I am.

It is yoga night. Nothing feels better than that first deep inhale to mountain and exhale to forward fold. Ahhhh.

So if you ever see me when I am working out (heaven forbid) and I look cross eyed, I am just super focused on the evil ninjas that sometimes come dangerously close. If I don't acknowledge your presence, I am probably hoping you won't notice that I have hopelessly unwiggly hips. If I am breathing too loudly through my nose, leave me alone. I am trying to release tension and focus on...nothing. And that is tougher than you'd think.

Wow. You are very exotic looking. Was your dad a G.I.?

"She's beautiful. What is she?"
Huh??? I understood the question when she was an infant and looked like a japanimation cartoon...I even understood when they asked me if I adopted her. She's changed to look enough like me now, so people don't ask that anymore. They do, however, still ask me what she is. I want to to tell them "She's a girl", but I know their questions are about her ethnicity.

One month before I got married, I attended my husband's family reunion. I remember many of his cousins and sisters complaining that people would come up to them at school and ask, "what are you??" I laughed to myself at how tactless teenagers could be. Well, maybe not tactless so much as curious and blunt. I didn't really think I would ever have to deal with that situation myself.

Then I had a baby.

Some people ask politely, and usually when I don't have her standing right next to me. I don't mind that...sometimes people are just curious and I get that.
It is the complete strangers that ask me like she isn't even there while I am holding her hand right next to me. Huh??? {This happened this week, and all I could think of was Michael Scott from "The Office" saying, "Wow. You are very exotic looking. Was your dad a G.I.?"} Luckily, they usually preface the question with a compliment, so the damage to her self esteem is minimal (I hope).
She did ask me once if it felt different to be so white skinned, instead of brown.

She is very proud of her heritage, and likes that she has the same color skin as Daddy. I don't think that she has ever felt out of place or uncomfortable because of her ethnicity. (It's not like she sticks out like a sore thumb, there is just enough that people can't quite place her) She knows she looks a little different, and it doesn't bother her at all. She has enough friends that look different in other ways, it is something that is cool.

It's just those blasted strangers. Grrr.


{just for the record, if you are wondering, she is one quarter Japanese}