The Difference Between Boys and Girls

Well, the Jeep died again. That's another car story for another day, because I'm not sure how the story ends. On a totally different note... Now that my baby boy is 7 1/2 months old, my husband and I have definitely noticed a difference between our boy baby and when my daughter was a baby. Here's a few examples. When my daughter was a baby, she would delicately pluck threw carpet fuzz and her car seat foam and eat them both. My son can pick up an entire wipie container with one hand and seemingly try and eat the whole thing. My daughter would giggle and coo. My son laughs out loud, yelps, and hollers. All the time. He's especially loud when he's trying to beat some sort of object against the floor with all his might. Like he can kill it. My daughter showed signs of being curious at an early age. My son can already pull himself to a standing position, grab whatever items I put on the couch to get them out of his reach, and pull them down to the floor with a look of triumph. And then attack them like he's out to kill them. My daughter would lie still to get her diaper changed. My son will do a complete three-sixty several times during a diaper change. I'm usually sweating by the time I have him fully dressed again. My daughter could skip a bath every now and then. It seems like my son needs them every 5 hours. I tried to explain the yelping thing to my co-worker, Jana, when she brought her precious one year old, over for a playdate. She said, "Oh, that's just language aquisition." I wonder what language exactly is he trying to acquire? Because it's one I've never heard before. I'm exhausted all the time, my house is constantly a mess, and I haven't had a haircut in 8 months. By the way, I adore this little guy. Seriously, I'm crazy about him.

Hotel Life from the Perspective of a Four Year Old

A few weeks ago, my Aunt passed away. She was 88 years old.

I decided to trek the kids to Tahachapi to go to the service for my Aunt.

My kids have traveled farther in a car than this, but because we were staying over night in a nice hotel, it seemed like a real "trip" somewhere.

This is what I imagine my daughter's first experience in a hotel was like.

How to experience a hotel if you've just turned four years old.


1) Run through big glass doors.
2) Run around lobby and climb all over lobby furniture while Mommy isn't looking.
3) Wait patiently (while singing) in hotel lobby for Mom to go get the luggage.
4) Ask if you can have a ride on luggage cart. Whine when mom says no.
5) Whine when Mom tells you to push stroller to room because Mom's hands are full pushing luggage cart.
6) When you get to the door of your hotel room say loudly, "I don't want to stay here. I want to go home."
7) When Mom opens door to hotel room run inside and say, "WOW!"
8) Find all the lights and turn them on and off while Mom is trying to get baby settled
9) Jump on bed. Get yelled at. Cry. Bounce on bed on knees. Ignore Mommy sighing.
10) Point out to Mom that it has an "office" (desk with desk lamp) for Mom to work
11) Point out big TV
12) Run into big bathroom and make mental note of how big potty is.
13) Say that your hungry.
14) Eat hamburger and french fries on top of suitcase while watching TV
15) Get jammies on. Run around room in jammies.
16) When Mom finally says, "Time to settle down. What bed do you want?" Make a big deal out of choosing a bed. Turn Mommy's bed light off for her. Turn it on for her. Turn your light on. Turn it off. Whine when Mommy says, "Okay, that's enough."
17) Crawl into bed with "lovies" and games. Wait for Jeri (Mom's step-mom) to arrive to play with you and the baby while Mommy works.
18) Watch TV with Jeri in bed. Climb out of bed. Get back in bed.
19) Say goodnight to Jeri. Sing while Mommy takes a shower.
20) Finally go to sleep.
21) Have continental breakfast in hotel lobby. Ask for everything. Eat nothing.
22) Cry when you have to check out. Say that you don't want to leave.

Car Story #2: The Maui Car

So here is car story number two.

My mom has owned a variety of fun (read: about to fall apart at the seams) cars in her time.

When I was really little she owned an Austin Marina. (I was really little). I liked that car.

But the BEST car my mom ever owned was this beat up white Fiat. We called it the Maui car. Not only because we lived on Maui at the time (I was about 12 years old), but because Maui cars had a reputation for being awful, but not so awful that they couldn't get you to the beach, which was the whole point of owning a car on Maui.

This fun Fiat had it all. I remember it had holes in the floor of the car in places so you could watch the road rush by under you. It had holes in the roof where the sea air had rusted through. When it rained, we had to put towels on our seats and on our laps because the rain would come through the roof and land on your head and your clothes. If you didn't wear a towel over your lap, the rain would stain your clothes.

The Fiat was also very noisy. It had a broken muffler. You could hear the car coming from down the street. My friends got so good at recognizing the sound of the Fiat that when I would go over to their house, 2 minutes before my mom would pull up in their driveway, they would say, "Your mom is here."

The piece de la resistance was the trunk. The trunk was so tempermental it would pop open everytime the car went over a speed bump, or a pot hole, or a mongoose that had become roadkill, or if you played music too loud.

So picture this. Every day my mom would drive me to Kula Elementary School. Every day the Principal, Mr. Kanimitsu, would stand in front of the school to welcome the students. Every day my mom would drive her noisy car over the speed bump right in front of Mr. Kanimitsu. Every day my mom would lean across the passenger seat and yell out the window that was broken and didn't roll up all the way, " Good Morning, Mr. Kanimitsu! Do you mind putting the trunk down?"

Mom loves to tell the story about how one day she was carpooling myself and my snotty science fair project partner, Kimberly, to school. Kimberly sat in the back seat scrunched down so as not to be seen by others.

Mom got pulled over by a Maui cop. Mom starts searching frantically for her Driver's License, which she kept bundled up with her credit cards and business cards held together by a rubber band.

My mom asked what seemed to be the problem or something like that. The officer proceeds to tell my mom her muffler is too loud. The following conversation is true. No words have been altered to protect the innocent junior highers in the back seat.

Cop: Ma'am, your muffler is too loud.
Mom: What?!? (shouting over loud muffler)
Cop: TURN OFF THE CAR. YOUR MUFFLER IS TOO LOUD!
Mom: (still searching frantically for license) WHAT?!?
(cue kids sinking lower in back seat)
Cop: YOUR. MUFFLER. IS. TOO. LOUD.
Mom: ( I promise this is true) (turning off car) I'm sorry. I can't hear you. My muffler is too loud.
(pause)
Cop: (heavy sigh) Just get it fixed.
(Cop walks back to motorcycle)

Mom drives off to school, just around the corner. Hits speed bump. Trunk pops open.
Two girls crawl out of the back seat with notebooks blocking their faces.

Mom: Good Morning, Mr. Kanimitsu! Would you mind putting the trunk down?

Kim never carpooled with us again. That's okay, I didn't really like her anyway.

Car Story #1: Pinto on Fire

I love car stories.

I decided to include some car stories on my blog because I find them humorous. Since only about 8 people read my blog at any given time, I mostly write for myself anyhow.

So here is car story number one.

I once dated (like 20 some odd years ago) this guy named Joe. I still know Joe, and he's still one of my favorite people. I adore his wife even more, so I don't think either of them will mind if I tell this story. I also don't think they are two of the eight who read my blog.

Anyway, we were about 19 years old and Joe was taking me on a date in his green (if I remember correctly) 2 door Pinto. Joe likes cars and he liked to buy all these different parts for cars and fix cars up. So Joe decided that on the way to our date he wanted to stop by this place (read: car junk yard) where you can get inexpensive car parts (read: dirt cheap).

At this point in the story you should know that the passenger handle (on the inside of the car) didn't work. If Joe wanted to let me in his car, he HAD to open the door for me from the outside.

So we go to the car junk yard and park right outside. Joe goes in, gets the part he wants, and comes out in a timely manner. Joe opens the hood of the car. Joe starts car. Joe fiddles with car.

Engine catches on fire. Flames leap into the air.

I'm watching this all from the passenger seat.

"Fire!" I yell. (duh)

"Get out of the car!" Joe yells.

"I can't!" I yell. I yank on broken handle.

At this point in the story you should know that Joe worked for Baskin Robbins Ice Cream.
Joe runs to the trunk, grabs his Baskin Robbins uniform and proceeds to beat the heck out of the flames with his uniform.

Uniform burning!

Finally, Joe realizes I should probably be let out of the car. I am set free. Joe beats on flames with his uniform some more. Flames are out. Uniform is burned.

I think Joe made some comment about knowing how to show a girl a good time.