Karen the Grinchoween

So last week was Halloween. When I was little, I enjoyed trick-or-treating along with the rest of the kids in my neighborhood and school. I had a costume every year (although it wasn't anything elaborate like what we have nowadays), and I went out with my friends and went door to door in our neighborhoods. It was a careless time, and I didn't really think about it more than an excuse to get a lot of candy.

When our church started to put on alternative candy-centered events on the last day of October, I wasn't sure what to think of it. When I was in college it seemed like just another thing that would take my free time away. Of course who knows what else I'd be doing instead of that. Trick or treating? Hah! But it did get me to start thinking about the meaning of the holiday, and whether or not I wanted to encourage participation in it.

When we had kids, I wasn't quite sure what to make of the holiday either. We got costumes for the girls and took them around the neighborhood, but mostly just to show off how cute they were, especially in their costumes. Whether or not we got candy I could have cared less. Actually I think I would have preferred that the girls didn't get candy at all.

When Elizabeth got diagnosed with her tree nut allergy, it really changed candy and chocolate in our house. Suddenly I had to be careful with everything that she was about to eat. It got to be way too much to handle the first few years of elementary school, reading all the labels, looking up the candy manufacturers' websites, and calling them up and finding out whether or not the candy was made in what we call a "nutty facility."

So last year, we decided to go candy shopping and just do away with the whole Halloween idea. Sure, it's hard to get away from it because the elementary schools really seem to relish pushing the holiday on the kids. Many of the kindergarten homework assignments during the month of October involve costumes, jack-o-lanterns, etc. There's also a costume parade on the morning of the 31st, when all the kids, K thru 8, march around the school wearing their costumes.

But we were able to pull it off not only last year, but also this year.

Last year, we left for Hawaii on my mom's birthday, November 6. We decided to take my parents out for dinner to celebrate her birthday the week before, which happens to be October 31, which also happened to fall on a weekend. So we vacated the house, took my parents out to dinner, and then went to Target to buy candy for the kids. I told them to pick out whatever they wanted, and so they each picked a two-pack of ring pops and were so excited about how they could get whatever candy they wanted. We took it back to my parents' house, and I let the girls gorge on as much ring pops and M&Ms (courtesy of my parents) as they wanted that night. No complaints from anybody.

This year we didn't have to take my parents out on Halloween (we ended up doing it the day before her birthday this year), but we did end up running an errand right before dinner right next to one of our favorite Japanese restaurants. So we had sushi for dinner, and then went to Target to pick out candy, and then ToysRUs to use up a couple of gift cards the girls had received for their birthdays earlier this year. The girls picked out sugar free gum. No complaints from anybody again.

I think we've got a successful tradition going on. I've decided I've got a disdain for cheap candy, commercialized costumes and goblins and stuff. The girls told everyone what a fun evening they had the next day and I don’t think they felt deprived. We didnt have to deal with any candy we don’t like, and better yet, we don’t have to deal with any allergens.

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Matt Redman wrote a song whose lyrics include these lines:

Every blessing you pour out I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be your name.

A few weeks ago I've been hearing this song a lot. And frankly, it's scaring the snot out of me. I've been noticing the lyrics in this song I've been hearing at church, juxtaposed with the melody that is invariably cheerful.

Can I really honestly choose to say "blessed be the name of the Lord" when darkness closes in and what is given is taken away? It brings me positively to tears. How can I handle that when all that is in me, although I know what is the correct response, would want to scream, rebel, and throw a massive tantrum? It's so easy to be thankful when things are easy, and blessings are added to blessings. It's so easy to bless the name of the Lord when there is nothing to cry about. How selfish am I?

I pray that the land is always plentiful, streams of abundance always flow, the desert place and wilderness are nowhere near me, the sun's always shining down on me, the world's all as it should be, the road is not marked with suffering, and that there is no pain in sacrifice. However, I know that life is not this way, and that despite my prayers, life will never always be a charmed bed of roses. And because of that, I must also pray that I will be strong enough to remember to bless the name of the Lord even then. The thought scares me, but I must be prepared. Right?

Membership

A week after my haircut, I went to class at my local community college. Four or five people noticed, and three of them individually gave me what they must've thought was a compliment: "It makes you look SO MUCH younger!"

Now I've never thought of myself as a person ever in the future needing to look younger. I always imagined I'd never consider dyeing my hair, putting on any kind of magic potion to make the age spots or crows' feet disappear, or heading to any doctor's office for botox or facelifts. I consider myself the anti-girly girl: not tomboyish, not butch, but just the opposite of really putting *that* much effort into looking a certain way. I'd learned it's too much unrewarded effort to invest more than a few minutes a day to beauty than what was necessary to be presentable: in the morning, wash out the eye boogers, brush the teeth, wash the face, slap on some moisturizer (or else I'll desiccate like you won't believe), and fluff out the hair (but never comb it unless it's wet).

This worked for my entire life. Well, I only learned the hair thing a few years ago.

My entire life I'd always been mistaken for an age other than mine, something between my then-current age and 18-21. When I was 12, I was mistaken for older. In college, people asked me what grade I was in. When I was 24, I was mistaken for a college student. Even a month ago, in my 30-somethings, two different people on two different occasions guessed I'm in my late 20s. I rarely wear any makeup, and I dress very plainly, and I act very immature. It's worked for me.

And then suddenly, with one compliment, it changed my whole outlook. I suddenly realized that I don't get carded anymore, and that maybe I should dye my hair to cover up the gray and maybe consider a magic potion or two.

I've officially been inducted into That Club, haven't I? *sigh*

Hairy Adventures

So a few weeks ago I decided to finally cut my hair. After months of weak-mindedly wanting to do it and then changing my mind again, I finally made the leap and got my hair lopped off. Twelve inches of it. For some unknown reason, I had always considered my long hair an integral part of my identity. And I guess that's why I had always hemmed and hawed when it came to actually making a decision to cut off my hair.

Anyways, the final seed was planted when the girls wanted to cut off their long hair. I wasn't particularly attached to their hair, although it was pretty fun to show off their beautiful straight shiny hair. However, combing it and styling it were not so much fun, and the girls hated waking up with it tangled up every morning. So when their friend cut off her hair and and donated it to Locks of Love, we thought hey, that would be a cool idea, and decided that would be something we'd like to do too.

Elizabeth was the first one to do it in March. She loved it, and would probably do it again in a heartbeat. And I think she felt really good about donating her hair. She's growing it longer again now. For another donation? Who knows.

Abigail begged and begged to do it next. She wanted to do it the same day as Elizabeth, but due to a misunderstanding (the stylist thought it was a 12-inch minimum donation, not 10 inches), we ended up having to wait until her hair grew another two inches, in May. She also loves having her hair short. One difference is that Elizabeth wanted to grow out her bangs, but Abigail wanted to keep hers. Her hair is growing again, too, but two months behind Elizabeth.

Then it was my turn. I kept hesitating. I kept making the excuse that my hair is too curly, and it'll just puff out when it's short. I'll look like an old Korean lady with badly permed hair. The matronly look. You know, that look. I badly wanted to avoid the hairstyle I ended up with in sixth grade -- when my mom and aunt thought it'd be a great idea to cut my hair short and give me a perm. Yuck.

I had straight hair with a mind of its own when I was little. It was a decent length (not too short, not too long) when I was about 5 or 6. And then my mom and aunt (same aunt!) thought it'd be a great idea to cut my hair short. I really wanted to keep it longer, but they somehow convinced me that they're just gonna cut it a little bit. Well, every time her scissors went to my hair, they had decided that "it was uneven, and they had to cut the other side." You know, to "even it out."

I think I avoided putting scissors to my hair after that for a long time. By the time I was in fifth grade, my hair was pretty long again. But it was thicker, and getting coarse. I started to hate my hair because it was too hard to comb, but didn't know what to do with it. So again, I submitted myself to my aunt's scissors, and in sixth grade, I ended up with a bob and a perm.

You know how I feel about that.

So for the longest time after that, I largely avoided putting scissors to my hair again.

And I also avoided hair rollers like the plague.

After I got married, on a trip to Korea, I discovered "magic perm." I loved this perm. Basically they put perm solution in your hair and then iron it flat. Some people say they look dorky afterwards because their hair is so flat against the head. But I loved it. My hair looked so sleek, so smooth, so shiny, so not-coarse.

From haircut

I think I went back to get it done once or twice, but then decided I didn't want to shell out the $$$ for it, so I decided to grow it out. That's when the nightmare began. My hair, remember, was naturally coarse and wrinkly. And the permed section was flat. I have no words to describe this phase of my hair where the roots had a mind of their own and the ends hung limp and lifeless.

And then I got pregnant. Too tired to style my hair, too scared of chemicals to do anything to my hair, and not girly enough to really care.

Needless to say, at that point, I finally decided I'm not going to fight my hair. I'm not going to make it do something it doesn't want to do, because first of all, I'm too lazy to spend half an hour blow-drying it into submission every morning, because at the end of the week, that's three and a half hours of my life I'm never going to get back. Second of all, I'm too cheap to shell out $$$ for my hair when it's just going to grow out anyway.

So that's when I decided when I get my hair cut I'm going to be honest with myself and the stylist that I'm not going to really style my hair in the morning, and I probably won't get my hair cut more often than once a year, so please please please don't give me a high maintenance haircut. So the stylist cut off the flat parts, and did some razor-cut thing that I never really understood, and I vowed this would be my last bad haircut.



A few years after my girls were born, I realized that my hair looks great when it's wet, but looks horrible when it dries, so I began my quest to find something that'll help there. I found some hair gunk that works well, and discovered that although combing my hair when wet is fine, I should never ever ever comb or brush my hair when it is dry. And I also concluded that long hair means heavy, weighed down hair, that won't puff out into the matronly permed look.

I went and got one last haircut just to clean off the razored edges and thin it out a little, and stayed away from any scissors for about a year and a half.

So until a few weeks ago, that was my routine: after my shower, I'd rub in two squirts of my hair gunk, comb it through, and let it air dry. Simple as that. It'd look fine until I wash it again. As long as I didn't comb or brush it. I think a few times I did blow-dry it straight, just to mix it up. But for the most part, my hair rarely got blow-dried. I loved the length because I could twist it up into a bun and then hold it there with a pencil. How easy was that!



My hair grew until it went down to my waist, and then I realized it was always getting caught in my purse straps, Abigail was always playing with it and pulling ONE strand just enough to make it hurt, and it was starting to look really scraggly. The thinning that had been done a year and a half earlier was now just horrible, and my hair was starting to feel chlorine-damaged, although I was pretty careful to wash my hair as soon as I got out of any pool. I got some deep conditioner but that didn’t help much, so it was time to go and get it cut again.

Well, since the girls had been brave and got their hair cut off and donated it, I couldn’t just chicken out and trim off the ends. I had to get it all cut off. So that’s just what I did. Twelve inches sent it from my waist to my shoulders.



It feels so much thicker and healthier now. And since I’ve got my hair gunk, it doesn’t look all puffy and old-lady-permed. At least that’s what I think.

You say pedal, I say paddle

So on Friday we went to a small lake where they have swimming and you can rent paddle (pedal?) boats.  We had a wonderful time.  Unfortunately I forgot to bring a camera.

We spent an hour swimming in the lake in the morning.  It's amazing how fast the lake fills up with people.  We had a prime parking spot, and when we got to the beach, we were the second or third family there.  An hour and a half later, when we were eating lunch, it would be impossible to swim ten feet in any direction and not bump into a person or three.  And after lunch, when we went to move our car to the boating part of the lake, we saw the parking lot was packed.

So we went to the boating part of the lake, and they have a little mobile trailer that serves as the boat rental office.  It was 94 degrees that day, and inside the mobile trailer it was probably somewhere near 110 degrees.  Thankfully we didn't have to go inside to rent -- they have a window.  But the poor kid who works there!

Anyways, they had available to rent kayaks, what they called paddle boats, row boats, electric boats, and duffy boats.  We rented a paddle boat, piled in, and went around the lake once.  Did it mention it was 94 degrees that day?  Elizabeth and Abigail complained about the heat after about ten minutes on the lake, asking us when are we going to be done, when are we going home, when are we going to stop, and I'm sleepy.

After about fifteen minutes on the lake, we returned to the dock, and went home.

I still don't know if it's called a pedal boat or a paddle boat.

Where did this summer go???

Maybe it's because we took a trip to Southern California the second week of summer vacation.  Maybe it's the solid month of nightly swimming lessons.  Maybe it's because I'm working pretty much five days a week (albeit part time).  But I just realized I'm getting one week off of work (it's my turn at work, per budget issues), followed by one week of VBS, and then it's already August.  Where did this summer go??

I had a "summer bucket list" of stuff I wanted to do, but it seems like although my day-to-day is more relaxed than during the school year (thanks to not having to deal with 8:10am dropoffs and 2:50pm pickups), my schedule is still just as full and unavailable for doing "fun stuff" like camping, visiting water slides and water parks, going pedal boating (which, incidentally, I just realized is NOT called "paddle boating"), mini golfing, Tahoe, amusement parks, and other tourist traps attractions.  Where did this summer go???

I think it's because my husband is still working just as much, and I don't feel comfortable doing these things alone with the girls.  Combine that with the stuff HE wants to do while the weather's good (basically anything that doesn't involve the family -- biking, poker, UFC, half-marathon), and I think that gives a pretty good picture of where our summer has gone.  *sigh*

Don't you hate it??

Don't you hate it when you think of something to write about, but by the time you get to the computer, you completely forget what it was?  And you KNOW that it was something that you had been wanting to write about for a long time?

I'm sure it'll come to me...

Flat Stanley in Southen California

The plan:
leave Friday to go to M&M's house in southern California, hang out for a couple of days.
On Sunday, go to Anaheim with M&M&family to meet S&G&family, and check into a hotel near Disneyland.
Visit The Mouse on Monday.
Tuesday return home.

Kids were hard at work playing.

Flat Stanley was hanging out in the lobby at our hotel near Disneyland.

Flat Stanley rode the bus with us to Disneyland.

Family photo with Mickey.

Shooting the targets on the Buzz Lightyear ride.

Looking for the targets on the Buzz Lightyear ride.

Three kids in 3-D.

Can't forget Abigail's monster smile.

Silly smiles from the six oldest kids.

Flat Stanley's photo op with Mickey.

We got back to our hotel to find the girls' dolls had a great time playing on our beds.  Flat Stanley wanted to join in on the fun.

Introducing Bob

Both girls had their hair chopped off over the past couple of months.  They have a friend who had beautiful, thick, long, black hair, and she cut it off and donated it to Locks of Love.  I thought that was a wonderful idea and mentioned it to Elizabeth and Abigail.  It took a while for them to warm up to the idea, but by the time their hair got long enough, they were more than ready.  Elizabeth kept asking when she will get to cut her hair short "just like Z."  Abigail wanted her hair cut too, but since her last haircut was more recent, we had to wait a couple more months for it to get long enough for the minimum donation length (10 inches).  Those last two months of waiting were an exercise in patience.  By the end of the wait, Abigail was asking me every day "can I get my hair cut today?"

They are so happy with their short bobs.  I also love how it's so much easier to comb, although a part of me is secretly trying to figure out how long it'll take to grow it out again, in order to donate again.  I mean, why not?  It grows for free on their heads, and if it helps somebody out, why not!


Now I want to cut off my hair and donate it too, but I'm so afraid of what short hair will do to me.  It's curly, and who knows what'll happen when the weight of the length goes away -- will my hair go flying out in all different directions?  If only I knew for sure that it'll be okay.

Hopefully the end of a half-year hiatus

It's amazing how life can get in the way of writing about life.  Over the past ten months I had decided to take up some classes at the local community college, and although I got good grades (straight As!), managed to work part time at preschool and church (12 hours), had dinner on the table almost every night, and packed lunch for my family, I just couldn't manage blogging on top of it all.  Well, now that school is done, I can now stop, take a deep breath, a good look around, and start writing about it again.  Hopefully regularly.

Some updates:

Abigail is now beginning her last year of preschool.  She's excited about being a Dinosaur -- a pre-K.

Elizabeth's last day of first grade was on June 10.  She got sent home with summer vacation homework, a Flat Stanley that she needs to take around on her summer vacation adventures.  She'll be going with me and Abigail to preschool.

We just got back from a five-day road trip to Southern California to see some friends -- details later.  We've got plans for swimming lessons and art classes too, but unfortunately dance just can't fit into our schedule this year.  I have a feeling I'll be keeping a Flat Stanley journal as well.

Oh, and happy bloggiversary to me too

I've been a blogger for one year and one day.  Let's see what this next year brings.  (Does this count as Post Number Two for January 2010?)

A belated happy new year and merry Christmas and happy Thanksgiving while we're at it, too

I've been a horrible blogger.  I have been trying to keep up about 4 blog posts per month, and completely missed December.  I can explain myself!  I was taking two classes and had two big projects plus two finals, all converging in December.  And right before that was Thanksgiving, which I had taken upon myself to cook up pretty much the entire meal, mostly from scratch, for my family, my parents, and my sister's family.  And as soon as finals was over, we had to scramble to get the house decorated for Christmas and cleaned and ready for my in-laws' annual visit.  And today is my dad's birthday too, so we spent the weekend at my parents' place and helped throw him a little birthday dinner party.  So yeah, I've been a little busy.  Sorry.  I hope you will forgive me.

If it helps, here are a few pictures as a peace offering...

Me and Abi hanging out at our favorite frozen yogurt place.  (The rest of the family is on the other side of the table.)

Eliz's first school assembly performance

Cornerstone Fellowship's annual Women's Christmas Dinner with Point of Grace performing

SNOW!! I had to take a picture because this is a rare occasion -- I heard the last time it snowed here was in 1977 or something like that.

The girls took pictures with Santa. He comes to a mom-and-pop shop here in town during December, and the same Santa has been coming for years. No charge for pictures; bring your own camera!

Eliz's first school award; an AR bronze medal for accumulating 25 points. She was one of three in her classroom to receive this.

Christmas morning at our house with the in-laws

Christmas day trip to Mt. Diablo

Hula hooping -- Eliz is showing off how she can even jump while keeping the hula hoop spinning.  Lil stinker makes it look easy.

Elizabeth's first school evaluation

I am proud to announce that Elizabeth is doing well in all areas of study -- her report card rates things on a scale from 1 to 4, 1 being "far below grade level standard" and 4 being "proficient at grade level standard." All 45 points of evaluation are marked "4" from her teacher.

All the students rotate through five specialists throughout the week: art, music, Spanish, science, and PE. Each specialist has three or four different spaces to evaluate different areas (concepts, effort, behavior, etc.). She got a 4 in every space from every teacher except for one from her PE teacher (I'm inclined to call him a stinker for messing up her perfect straight 4's!) who gave her a 3+ for "physical development," whatever that means.

I have to admit I was a little apprehensive about going into the conference on Friday because she's the youngest by far in her class, hadn't had the full kindergarten preparation that all of her classmates had under their belts, and has so far missed three weeks of school in her current classroom (the first two weeks were spent in kindergarten, and we were gone for a week on a cruise two weeks ago), but she's doing well. She's in the highest reading group in her class (somewhere between a upper 2nd - 3rd grade level) and can spell all of her first grade sight words (next week she'll be beginning the second grade sight words, and the teacher is sure that she'll fly through those as well). Her math skills are nothing to sneeze at either -- many of the things that I see that they will work on next trimester are still going to be review for her.

Yeah, I'm a proud mama.

A birthday party (written originally on April 7, 2009)

I found this post (written April 7, 2009) which I had forgotten to publish.  It's more than half a year since this brief conversation took place (and frankly I had forgotten about it!), but I still want to share this with you.

************************************

Eliz: Don't you want to come to a birthday party?
me: What birthday party?
E: A between-birthday party!
me: A between-birthday party? What is that?
E: It's between Abigail's and daddy's birthdays!

Abigail's birthday is 2/14 and daddy's birthday is 5/7, and today is 4/7, very much between their two birthdays.

Cruisin' -- Part 7 -- Friday and Saturday

Friday morning we were back in American waters.  We left the ship sometime in the morning after breakfast, and got back to the car.  We got our luggage and loaded it up into the minivan, hopped in, and prayed that it'll start.

Not a problem.

The problem was that Elizabeth was a bit carsick on the drive leaving Long Beach, which was unexpected, considering that she'd never complained of being seasick while on the cruise, and also hadn't complained of being carsick on the drive from Northern California to Southern California.

But after getting some fresh air, we were able to finally drive to BCD Tofu House in LA, where we celebrated our Koreanness by eating soon tofu soup, galbi, and bibim-bap, accompanied by spicy salted clams and kimchi.  Although we ate to our hearts' content and enjoyed all kinds of foods cooked to perfection every day on the cruise, nothing hit the spot quite like Korean food, especially when I didn't have to cook it.

Afterwards, we dropped off my parents at a car rental place at LAX so they could visit my gomo and my grandmother, and we went to see my husband's brother's family.  We got to hang out, and let the girls play with their son (who is less than a month older than Abigail).

I also found out that it take a couple days after the cruise for the floor to stop rocking.  :-S

The next morning my husband went on a long bike ride with his brother along the beaches, and after lunch with BIL's family, we picked up my parents and drove back home.

We had a great time.  But there's no place like home.  And I gotta get back to cleaning and the laundry.

Cruisin' -- Part 6 -- Thursday

Thursday was our "Fun Day at Sea."  We decided to take the girls swimming, so we went to the children's pool area, which took us a long time to find.  After a few wrong turns (no thanks to the incorrect diagrams at the elevators), the girls were splashing around in the "warm tub."  It was a little pool, about the size of a hot tub, and the water was warmed to about 92 degrees.  I sat right outside this pool, and was getting splashed left and right, and decided it would be much more comfortable to be inside than outside, so I hopped in to join them.  Unfortunately about two minutes later, some cruise employee shooed me out of the pool, pointing out a sign that I'd deliberately ignored which read "No adults in the children's pool" or something to that effect.  It was quite annoying that I wasn't allowed to be in there with my kids, and even more annoying that I wouldn't be able to "swim" with my kids (not that they actually do any independent forward propelling in the water on their own, mind you), but I suppose it's to make sure that the grownups don't hog up all the hot tubs on the cruise.  (There was another similarly sized hot tub about 25 feet away, and there were probably about 10 adults crowded into that one.  It was too crowded and too far from where my kids were playing, so I ended up just sitting on a lounge chair, watching them from a safe-but-not-too-far-away distance.  When my husband finally found where we were, I left him in charge of the girls and grabbed lunch for all of us from the buffet, and brought it back so we can eat poolside.

Afterwards, we went to a towel-folding workshop where we learned how to fold dogs and elephants.  (Quite interesting, but I'm nerdy like that.)

The rest of the day was homework (Elizabeth, under Daddy's supervision, at the library) and nap (me and Abigail).

A good day.

Cruisin' -- Part 5 -- Wednesday (revised)

Wednesday morning we found ourselves floating on Mexican waters at Ensenada.  We looked out our window and the first thing we saw was the harbor and a HUGE MEXICAN FLAG in the middle of it.  Yup, we were definitely in Mexico.

We went to see pretty much what Ensenada is famous for:  La Bufadora, a marine geyser.  Basically as the waves pound into the coastline, pressure builds up in a particular cave, shaped in a particular way, and shoot up into the sky, 80 to 100 feet up.  On the walk there, we had to walk through a flea market, where the vendors sold all manner of trinkets and souvenirs, as well as tacos and seconds-old churros.

The girls were well-entertained on the rest of the cruise thanks to some magnetic bead necklaces that my mom had bought for them.  They'd wrap them around their wrists, loop them around their necks (loose per Mommy's orders!), and stick them to the walls in our stateroom on the ship.  Yes, those wallpapered walls were magnetic!

Unfortunately, there was one terrible, horrible, no good, very bad incident that occurred in Ensenada.  We finished the tour of La Bufadora and were waiting around for my parents to come back from shopping so that we could take the bus back to our ship.  While we were waiting, we saw a huge jump house for kids to play in.  We asked if we can let our girls jump around in there, and they said that's what it's there for, so we let them play.  Abigail was tired by this point, so she napped in my arms while Elizabeth jumped in there alone.  A few minutes later she was joined by about five other kids, who were all happily jumping around.  Four of the kids got out after a few minutes, and sat down to eat in an enclosed patio next to a bar, leaving Elizabeth and another boy, who looked to be about 8 years old.  Next thing I know, he grabbed her, tackled her, and BIT HER LEG.  I couldn't do anything because I had a napping Abigail, but my husband jumped up and almost ripped the kid's head off (don't worry, neither one of us laid a finger on him).  He got Elizabeth out from the clutches of this monster-boy (sorry, anybody who attacks my daughter and leaves toothmarks and scraped skin on her leg will get called monster-boy), and I ran around looking for his parents.  They were nowhere to be seen.  I went to him and asked where his mommy is, and that's when I saw that he had Down Syndrome.  And that's when he spit at me.  I asked again where his mommy is, this time in Spanish, and he spit at me again.

His mommy was still nowhere to be seen.

My daughter's leg had a huge bite mark on it.  I could count the number of teeth that he had just from a look at her leg.  And I could see two spots of scraped skin right where his incisors were.

I went up to the enclosed patio and finally saw a woman walking toward the stairs, and found out that it was her son in the jump house that had bit my daughter.  But at this point, what could I do?  I can't beat her up.  I can't get mad at her son.  I can't rip her son's head off.  All I could say was "where the heck were you?  You NEED TO SUPERVISE YOUR CHILD!!  I don't care that you need to grab a glass of water, YOU NEED TO SUPERVISE YOUR CHILD!!  If you have to leave the area, BRING HIM WITH YOU!!"  But what's done is done, and really, what could she do other than apologize up one side and down the other?  She did apologize, but it was quite obvious that she couldn't (or wouldn't) get control of her son.  She tried to get him out of the jump house but he wouldn't comply.  She tried for a minute or two, and then gave up.

Ugh.

Anyways, my husband washed off her leg, and I got some ice for her leg, and we tried to make the rest of our time there better.  And stay the heck away from that boy.

Well, about 10 minutes later, I saw a man trying to talk the boy out of the jump house.  What?  Is he the father??  Now I'm angry again -- two parents, and neither one was supervising their son??  I also saw that the boy had a similar wristband that my girls had gotten on the cruise.  Great, this boy is on our boat.  And who knows who'll supervise him (or not), and when he'll bite again.

Ugh.

Cruisin' -- Part 4 -- Tuesday evening

Tuesday evening was the formal dinner.  It had been ages since I'd worn anything fancier than "church clothes" and that's not saying much, considering a good population of our church wears all manner of jeans, shorts, and t-shirts to church on any given Sunday morning.  The girls, on the other hand, love dressing up, and do it every chance they get.  And my husband?  He can wear just a toga and he'll be dashing.  Unfortunately, the entire evening he was the one behind the camera, so you'll never know how handsome he looked.

After dinner (a few of the appetizers were stuffed mushrooms, pumpkin cream soup, and chilled strawberry soup, which tasted like cold melted strawberry ice cream-- yum!  And one of the entree choices was lobster tail and shrimp.  Mmmmm, seafood...)

 
we all went to watch the show at the Normandie Lounge.  A good time was had by all, but of course, it would've been more relaxing if the girls hadn't taken turns needing to go potty repeatedly.

And no worries, I'm fully dressed.  ;-)

Afterwards, we saw a stand-up comedian,  whose name I can't remember for the life of me.  He was hilarious.  My mom had graciously offered to babysit the girls so we could go and have a date night.  We had a great time, but I couldn't help but feel just a *teensy* bit bad that I was having a date night while my mom was babysitting, on a cruise that we had taken her on, to celebrate HER sixtieth birthday.

Happy birthday, Mom.  You're the best.

Cruisin' -- Part 3 -- Tuesday

Tuesday morning we woke up on the Carnival Paradise.  Our room was clean and my bed was very comfortable -- I dare say it might be even better than ours at home.  It's a small room, about 10 feet by 10 feet, and they got four beds into there -- two pushed together side-by-side like a king-size bed, and two suspended on the walls, one above the head of the king-size bed and one on the other side of the room.  The thought of having the room permanently arranged like this was a bit overwhelming, but this is where the cruise housekeeping earns their gratuity -- every morning they'd straighten out the sheets and fold up the wall beds, in addition to replenishing towels and other hotel-y stuff, and every evening they'd turn down the beds, open up the wall beds and set up the ladders to climb up into them, and leave behind a short stack of mint chocolates next to an origami towel animal.

Breakfast was buffet, with an omelet bar -- my favorite kind.  I was surprised to see how people had left their good manners behind on this trip though.  A few people ahead of me in line was a (large) man, getting food.  Right behind him were probably about five or six people waiting for their scrambled eggs and pancakes.  One of them got up a little too close while reaching for a ladle, and he suddenly yelled at her to apologize for having bumped into him.

Great, I'm on a boat with this guy.  Ugh.  Oh well, whatever.  I'm glad I didn't bump into him (quite literally) during the rest of the cruise.

Anyways, Tuesday we went to Catalina Island, apparently taking the longest possible route from Long Beach.  I estimated that if we traveled all night long, in a straight line without stopping, we would've had to go the breakneck speed of two miles an hour.

On Catalina we took a bus tour to the middle of the island.  We got to see some bison

and some crazy good views from high up on an island.

That's our ship!

We also got to hear some of the bus driver's punny jokes.  I'm a sucker for puns, and he had quite a few of them.

What did the mommy bison say to her son as he walked away?  "Bye, son."

What did the eucalyptus trees say when the tour bus scraped against the bark?  "You clipped us."

Cruisin' -- Part 2 -- Monday's adventure

Monday morning we woke up at 4am and left home at 5:30am to drive down to Long Beach.  It was a very quick uneventful drive, and we got down to southern California by 12:30.  We had to make a couple of pit stops at that point to pick up a prescription for me and to get my parents some swimsuits.  We got to Kaiser, and while I was waiting at the pharmacy, my husband was waiting in the car, listening to some music.  When I got back to the car, we discovered that the car won't start.


We drove 350 miles without incident, just to have the battery die on us right before the last 15 miles.


We got the car jump started, and after some quick thinking, we decided that it would be best to buy and install a new battery before we leave the car in the parking lot for five days.  We dropped off my mom at Del Amo to hunt down a couple of swimsuits, and then drove around looking for any auto parts store.  Not too far away we found one, close to a furniture store.  I took the kids into the furniture store to play on the couches and mattresses, and let my husband and my dad figure out the whole car battery thing.  After about an hour we came back out to the car, to find out that Dad and my husband had had a mini-adventure while we were killing time in the furniture store.  My husband had bought a battery and a monkey wrench to get the nut off the long bolt that was holding the battery into place, and went to work on the car.  The monkey wrench didn't work well, so he went back in and got a socket wrench.  Everything went swimmingly until they tried to secure the new battery into the car.  Somehow, the long bolt fell out of its place.  Fell.  Deep into the engine.  Too deep to try to reach in with the fingers, too deep to try to reach in with the wrench.  So they decided to try to shake the bolt out of the car.  By speeding over the speed bumps in the parking lot.   Stinkin' Honda Odyssey had too smooth a ride to shake anything on those speedbumps.  So he now went back into the store to turn in the dead battery, and came back out with a telescoping magnet.  It was a great idea in theory: extend the magnet to its full length, reach down and grab the bolt, and pull it up.  Unfortunately the entire car is magnetic.  The stupid magnet kept sticking to everything on the way down to the bolt.


And that's about when I came out of the furniture store, girls in tow.


I took a look at the situation, got a pretty good story from my husband, and decided to try my hand at fishing out this bolt.  So I took the telescoping magnet, extended it, flipped it UPSIDE-DOWN so I'm holding the magnetized end and the handle is deep inside under the hood, and knocked the bolt down to a hole in the underside of the car.  Then I went under the car and grabbed the bolt with the magnet, and handed it to my husband, who I'm sure was standing there dumbfounded.


Yeah, I felt pretty good about myself.  I fixed the car.  In front of my husband and my dad.


Well, after that, they got the bolt and nut back on, and we picked up my mom from swimsuit shopping, and got to the ship around 2:30pm.

Thankfully the rest of the day was a whole lot less eventful.