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Is Aiden the new Black?

20 Apr

There is an epidemic going on in this country right now, and quite possibly the world.  Celebrities like Kevin Costner and Britney Spears have fallen victim to it, and even I have been thrown into the mix of it all.  What is it, you ask?

It’s the ‘Aiden Effect’ and IT-IS-EVERYWHERE!  I like to refer to it as A.N.S., which stands for Aiden Naming Syndrome, as each year thousands, possibly millions of new parents become victims to this naming epidemic.

A.N.S has plagued my quiet suburban street where we have three 9 year old boys living right in a row, each with the Aiden variation: Kaiden, Hayden and Jaiden.  I can’t walk 2 feet without hearing it.  Boys and girls alike (because many are gender neutral) answer to the names: Aiden, Brayden, Kaiden, Hayden, Jaiden, Raiden, and we might as well throw in Saiden (though I haven’t seen that one catch on yet).

I get it.  Naming your child can be both exciting and daunting.  You want something special, something that describes them and something unique (although not too unique, sorry Apple).  And let’s face it, the name you choose can put your child on the fast track to success (I’m talking to you Donald) or racing to the stripper pole (a shout out to all you Bambi’s out there, you never stood a chance).  But what of all the A.N.S babies?  What course have we set them on?  No one knows yet.  The big BOOM of Aiden’s and their counterparts didn’t happen until 2002, yes the year I named my son Kaiden, so no one knows what’s in store for them.  Possibly a long life of looking over their shoulder every time their name is called (which is a lot).

It’s been on the top 10 list of baby names for 10 years running, and it’s still up there!  So let me just speak for all the mothers of the ‘Aiden Effect’ when I say

“STOP!  ENOUGH ALREADY!”

We get it, it’s a popular name, but it’s anything but original anymore.  It’s been done, and done to death.  So if you have already succumbed to A.N.S and named your little bundle, you are forgiven as I had yet to write this post alerting the public of this terrible naming epidemic.  However, if you or someone you know is expecting a child and showing the early signs of A.N.S., take action!  Help them!  Show them the top 10 names.  Stop them at all costs!

For those struggling to find an original name for their little ones, might I suggest ‘John.”  I guarantee you won’t find another for miles.

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Four Reasons Why Eating Healthy SUCKS!

23 Mar

When I was growing up, my parents owned a health food store.  They not only sold health food, but served it in their very own health food restaurant.  For many reasons, the business didn’t survive.  If you ask me, they were ahead of their time.  It was the 80’s, the age of Pepsi and Michael Jordan.  Nobody was concerned with eating healthy!  Well, nobody except my parents.  While the cool kids unwrapped their brown sacked lunches full of Dr. Pepper and Twinkies, I pulled out my all natural Hansen Soda from the first of its kind reusable lunch bag.  Yep, I was that nerd.  My parents were recycling and celebrating Earth Day like it was Christmas and my dad started composting back before they even had a name for it.  Instead we were just that weird family who put garbage in their garden.  Growing up with such Eco-friendly, health conscious parents could only lead me to one fate.  So naturally, when it was time for me to live out on my own I did what any responsible 18 year old would do.  I bought as much junk food as I could afford!

From HoHo’s to Ice cream, Lucky Charms to Doritos, I wanted it all.  These were forbidden fruits where I came from and I didn’t care what was in them, I was eating them.  Now, it took me years on this new found diet of mine to start reevaluating the food I was consuming.  It wasn’t actually until I had kids of my own that I began to resort back to the “healthy side.”

It’s no secret we should all be eating healthy.  The news is riddled with headlines of the benefits of having a healthy diet.  Hell, it seems everyday there’s some new recommendation of what’s in and what’s so last season when it comes to food fads: No Carbs, No High fructose corn syrup, no MSG, Gluten Free, All Organic, the Caveman diet, back to our roots, blah, blah, blah.  So, from someone whose enjoyed both ways of eating I’m going to go against the grain and tell you why eating healthy SUCKS!

  1. It’s confusing:  Remember when we were kids and we used to go down to the local farm and pick Doritos straight off the tree?  No?  Oh yeah, that’s because Doritos aren’t natural, yet pick up one of their packages and check out the huge “Natural” label posted on the front of it.  Whole Wheat doesn’t mean S—t unless it says 100% in front of it.  Cage Free Eggs translates to hundreds of chickens living in a tiny warehouse with no windows and crapping all over each other, but hey, at least they’re not in cages right?  It’s labeling like these that work to confuse us into thinking we’re living the Healthy way, but in fact we’re still not.  For more label info check out www.USDA.gov
  2. It’s time consuming:  I can’t remember the last time I made a home cooked meal for the family faster than I could heat up a hot pocket in the microwave.  Who wants to make homemade chili for hours in the kitchen when you can pop open a can of Staggs in a few seconds?  Eating healthy takes time!  Time to plan, time to shop, time to cook and time to eat.  Last I checked, “time” was something we were all short on.
  3. It’s expensive: I watched this show once called “Extreme Couponing” about people (mainly housewives) who rob the stores blind by taking home $500.00 worth of groceries for $1.00.  While I applaud their talent and effort, most of the crap they’re stocking up on is exactly that…crap.  I considered couponing once, but when I tried to find actual food in the coupon books I was at a loss.  Never once have I come across a coupon for broccoli or Pasture raised Eggs, but a 24 pack of Smuckers Crustables, where’s the scissors?  Times are tough, and we all need to cut costs where ever we can.  Couponing is a great way to save money and just another reason why eating Healthy SUCKS!
  4. It’s inconvenient:  Jack in the Box has a special right now “2 cheeseburgers for 99 cents.”  Seriously?  I don’t know about you but I can’t make 2 cheeseburgers at home for 99 cents.  And when you’re on the run and out and about, good luck finding a healthy fast food drive thru.  So now that we’re on the healthy side of living, if we want to eat on the go, we have to plan ahead of time and pack a lunch.  Talk about inconvenient.

I may have grown up eating healthy, but the word ‘healthy’ in today’s market is foggy.  Marketers use it to sell whatever they want and unless we have a PhD, figuring out how to read between the dirty little lines of the food labels takes time and effort that most people don’t have.  I’m not even going to get started on GM (genetically modified) food.  Oh yeah, those are out there.

So yes, eating healthy Sucks!  But despite all the reasons listed above I wouldn’t feed my family any other way.  What can I say, my body likes it.  Plus, I think there are a lot of other things that Suck even more: Obesity, diabetes, heart disease, cancer.  We are what we eat, right?

Here are some resources I’ve found if any of you are interested in living the high maintenance way too.

www.USDA.gov :  this is the actual guidelines for labeling in the U.S.  You’ll notice there is no mention of genetically modified foods as there is yet to be a mandatory label of those products.

Food Inc. : Documentary of the production of our food in the U.S.  Informative and disturbing, but a real conversation starter!

www.localharvest.org  : Great website to find local farms in your area for veggies, meat, eggs, honey or farmers markets.  Just type in your zip code.

Eat This, Not That : books and a website with tons of information about substitutions and the dirty little secrets about the food you’re eating.

We are heading out to a local farm this weekend, Inspiration Plantation, to wave to the animals we will soon be eating.  Maybe we’ll see you there!

Oh the Places we Go…Glowing Greens

9 Mar

Destination:  Glowing Greens

Family Friendly: Yes

Cost:  Reasonable; $8.00 adult, $7.00 youth, 3 and under FREE

Is it worth it: DEFINITELY!

If you go: check website for directions, hours and any specials they may have

I love living in the Pacific Northwest!  An hour away from the ocean, an hour away from the Mountain and just a quick drive over the river to Portland, it seems Vancouver is the perfect place to live.  Granted, I don’t love the rain, but then again, who does?  Living so close to a big city has its advantages.  We get to enjoy the sights of the spray painted “human statue” collecting his hard earned money.  We get to listen to the soundtrack of the streets played by the very talented “bucket drummer.”  We get to witness humans in their natural habitat, humbled by the homeless dogs and their humans.  But perhaps the best part about living just outside of the city is we get to enjoy the weirdness of Portland without having to go completely native.

One of my favorite things about Portland is the little treasures one can find by just walking the streets.  One day, while doing just that our family stumbled across a curious Pirate statue standing in front of a store.  Now, I don’t have to tell any mother of boys that a mysterious Pirate statue is like the mother ship calling them home, so naturally we had to investigate further.  What we found was the most interesting Miniature Golf place I have ever seen.

Down winding stairs, beneath the city street is Glowing Greens.  A mini golf course themed in only the best theme imaginable, Pirates!  18 holes, each with their own set up of sharks and treasure, pirates and skeletons, and all painted in neon paint glowing brightly beneath strategically placed black lights.  Why drive your ball into a boring old windmill when you can shoot it beneath the jaws of a Great White Shark?  We quickly paid the reasonable prices and were handed our (yes) glow in the dark golf balls. 

Our first hole required our balls to pass under a ferocious crocodile, all while an animatronics’ pirate mocked us from his perch high above.  The boys were bursting with excitement, so distracted by the atmosphere of the place, that they quickly forgot we were even playing a game.  My favorite hole was #5, where our ball had to disappear beneath a realistic looking great white shark.  I won’t give it all away, as discovering it for yourself is part of the fun.  I will, however, warn you about hole #16, where a very real sounding monster pounds on the gates behind the hole.  Tristan had a hard time with that one.  No detail is out of place, from the reggae music in the background to the 3-D images popping out all over the walls; this is our new favorite place to golf. 

 

Tips if you go: 

  • Don’t bring a purse.  You are golfing and there is no place to set it down permanently.  Instead bring a back pack with your valuables in it and wear it comfortably on your back as you play. 
  • Don’t go if your kids are easily scared.  It’s not terribly scary but there is hole #16, and some weenies may not be able to handle it.
  • Go during the day.  Something tells me it’s a hot spot for dates and teenagers at night.

The boys dream come true

 

 

 

So, RRRRRRR you ready to go yet? (Come on, you didn’t think I could write about pirates without saying “RRRR” did you)?  If you have kids, boys especially then Glowing Greens is the place to go on a rainy day.  It’s active, exciting and they won’t easily forget it.  Sorry girls, no Jack Sparrow at this Pirate set.  

I AM AWESOME!!!

1 Feb

My litle Science Experiments.

Sometimes I can’t believe I actually MADE people…living, breathing people!

And it really wasn’t that hard.  Yes, there was the pain and the endurance my body underwent to grow the little beings, but seriously…I put more brain power into my fourth grade science experiment.  And now, here they are; talking and thinking and creating all on their own.  And I did that.  Sure I had help, but let’s not get into the whole chicken or the egg argument because the point is… I created life! 

OK, we…we created life.

That’s it…just wanted to stop and observe my greatest achievements EVER!

I’m a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Mom!

13 Jan

It’s nearly 3 weeks past Christmas.  19 days after the biggest day of the year, where my boys got enough toys to supply a small country.  And yet, I’m watching the two of them as they roll around on the floor…bored.  The newest and latest in gadgets and plastics are gathering dust in their rooms and all my kids want to do is play the Wii, watch T.V. or play computer games.  Sure, I could give in and allow my kids to become technological zombies, but what can I say, I actually care about their brains.  I want them to discover their imaginations; to create an invisible friend, to role play, problem solve, and discover the secret joys of silence.  And I want it all without the aid of a Nano-chip or Gigawatt or whatever the hell the inner workings of technology are called.  Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of great things that have come from this hi-tech age: e-mail, cell phones, digital cameras and let’s not forget this wonderful little blog.  But there are also a lot of disadvantages with technology, the main one being… it’s made us lazy.

Now this is the part where I reminisce about the ‘good old days’ and say things like “when I was a kid” but sometimes, it’s true.  When I was a kid, which really wasn’t THAT long ago, my little brother Justin and I wanted one of those battery powered cars.  You know the ones with the gas pedal and stirring wheel that actually drove.  There were convertibles and jeeps and only the truly spoiled kids had them.  We used to watch those kids drive around the sidewalks with envy dripping from our faces.  But whenever we put it at the top of our lists for birthdays or Christmas, it never seemed to materialize.  Now I know they were expensive, but to us the only logical explanation was simply that our parents didn’t love us as much as those “other parents.”  To us, our parents were terrible, horrible, no good, very bad parents.  I mean, we didn’t even have one of those Flintstone cars where you sat inside and used your own legs to power it (which my best friend had by the way).  So, determined to have some sort of transportation, my brother and I set out to make one.

We acquired a large cardboard box, about dishwasher size (probably from an actual dishwasher) and one of my Dad’s four wheel dollies.  In case you don’t know what a dolly is see one here.  So, with our box and our dolly we went to work.  We used a box cutter to carefully carve out a space for the windshield and two doors that opened and closed.  We cut out windows  and we even used markers to draw designs on the outside of it.  After the initial cuts were in order, we put our custom box on top of the dolly and we took our new car for a test drive.  But of course, without a battery or even a place to use our own foot power, our test drive consisted of me sitting inside the box and my little brother pushing me from behind.  But the wheels carried us well and in our eyes it was a success.  In fact we had such fun making it, we wanted to do more.  I made curtains for the windows using scissors and old towels and my brother used saran wrap to make an actual windshield.  I think by the time we were done with it, it resembled more of a motor home than a battery powered car, but you get the picture.

Sadly, this is not the actual "box car."

 

We worked on it for two weekends straight, and yet I think we only “drove” the thing for a total of twenty minutes (mainly because my engine/brother would tire easily).  I’m sure it wasn’t nearly as glorious looking as I remember.  I’m sure it was probably quite sad to see two poor children pushing a box up and down the neighborhood but to us, it was everything we wanted.  And to my Mom, it kept us out of her hair for a while.

So now, as I lock my kids in their rooms and demand they play with their toys I can feel secure in being a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad Mom.  I know they’ll thank me for it later.

Which by the way, thanks Mom and Dad for not loving us as much as those “other parents.”  We had a blast.

You know it’s time to bleach when…

6 Jan

Kids have that certain bluntness about them that only a child or a senior can get away with.  They say what they’re thinking and hell, most of the time what you’re thinking but have the reserve not to say.  And most of the time I can take it.  From bad breath to bad cooking, I’m not as sensitive to their criticism as I used to be.

But when my four year old comes to me and says:

              “Mama, I want to have yellow pirate teeth like you.”

It’s time to break out the bleach and limit the coffee.  I mean come on, I’m not made of steel.

What you never want to hear your husband ask your 3 year old…

25 May

While our family was getting ready to go on a hike the other day I heard my husband in the other room call out to our 3 year old:

 Tristan, where did you put Dadda’s knife?

Has your mouth dropped yet?  Mine did.

Are you a Tigger or an Eeyore…or worse?

28 Apr

While driving in the car the other day with the kids, and yes, all four tires were working this time, the boys began a conversation about Winnie the Pooh.  We had heard somewhere that there is a character on Winnie the Pooh to represent every type of personality.  So, their conversation went something like this:

Kaiden:  I would be Piglet, because he’s so shy.

Tristan:  I’m Tigger…boing, boing, boing!

Kaiden: No, I’m not Piglet, I’m Roo.  Because he likes to play and go on adventures.

Tristan:  I’m Tigger…boing, boing, boing!

Kaiden:  Dadda’s Eeyore.

There was no need for explaining, we all agreed on that one.

Kaiden:  Who’s Mama?

Now of course I was expecting him to say Kanga.  You know, the mother of the group.  The one who tends to all the creatures in the Hundred Acre Wood.  The one who nurtures them, cares for them, supports them.  But when I went to open my mouth with my chosen character, my son beat me to it…

Kaiden:  Mama’s RABBIT.

RABBIT?  Are you kidding?  Now it doesn’t take an expert to realize that out of ALL the characters on Winnie the Pooh, RABBIT is the least lovable.  RABBIT is the yellow starburst of the Pooh world.

RABBIT is bossy.  RABBIT is controlling.  RABBIT is a NAG!  They don’t even make stuffed animals to represent RABBIT; a self loathing Donkey, yes.  But RABBIT…Never!

Me:  I don’t think I’m Rabbit.  I think I’m more like Kanga.

Maybe they simply forgot about Kanga.

Tristan:  No Mama…you’re RABBIT!

Even my 3 year old is in on it.

So what started out as an entertaining conversation has now turned into an internal evaluation of my own character.  I don’t want to be RABBIT.  Perhaps if I were more timid, I would be Piglet.  Or if I hid my intelligence I could pass for Pooh.  If I channeled my energy I could be Tigger, or if I were more of a know- it-all I would be Owl.

But instead…I’m RABBIT.

Isn't he LOVABLE?

Oh well, I guess I’m off to tend to my garden and yell at everyone.

Who would you be?

Damsel in Distress and Proud of it!

15 Apr

SAVE ME!!!

I’ve only ever lived in an age where women were strong, independent and powerful.  I had parents who embraced this value and instilled (or forced) it on me.  When other little girls were taking Ballet in their cute girlie Tutu’s, I was taking Karate in a variety of colorful belts.  When I turned 16 I learned how to drive a stick shift, change a tire and the oil, and (to my protest) pump my own gas.  I was taught girls can do anything boys can do.  After all, I was a woman.  And a woman can bring home the bacon, fry it in the pan, and give birth to a baby all at the same time without even breaking a nail. 

We are women, hear us ROAR!!!!

But…when my car blew a tire yesterday on the freeway and I barely made it safely to the next off ramp, did I roll up my sleeves, grab my bag of tools and fix it myself?  No, I called every Man in my life to come to my rescue.  I called my husband, my brother, the men at Les Schwab tires, and anyone with even the faintest amount of testosterone.  Did I call my fellow women to come help me lift up the car with our bare hands and rip off the old tire with one swift motion?  No…I did however call my sister in law for a ride, and emotional support.  And as I was making my various phone calls I found random men from who knows where rushing to my aid.  They wanted to help, they knew how to help, they needed to help!  Because despite all our advances in equality, to them I was a damsel in distress, and a primal instinct in every man I came across told them to rescue me; just as a primal instinct told me to be rescued. 

Could I have changed my tire on my own?  Probably…but I didn’t want to.  Could I have figured out how to jump start my battery with the assistance of another car?  (Because on top of the blown tire, my battery also died) Probably…but again, I didn’t want to.  Could I have pushed my car off the road to a safe place for jump starting?  Hell No!  Those things are heavy. 

So call me lazy, call me girlie, call me a sorry excuse for a strong woman living in a feminist society; but yesterday turned out perfectly in my eyes.  My Men got to fulfill that heroic desire to rescue their fair maiden from danger, and I didn’t even have to get my hands dirty.

So the moral of the story is…even a strong woman should be rescued every once in a while.      

Ah, 3 year olds. When did they get so smart?

3 Apr

While I was getting ready in the bathroom one morning, my 3 year old Tristan came in and said…

Tristan:  Mama, I want you to stay in the bathroom.

Me: Well, Mama’s almost done.

Tristan: No, NO!  Just stay in the bathroom.

Me: (curious now)  Why?

Tristan: I just want you to stay in the bathroom.  I don’t want you to come in the kitchen.

(Now it dawns on me, he’s up to something)

Me: Well, Mama’s almost done.  What are you doing in the kitchen?

Tristan: (with a huge ‘I’m doing something I’m not supposed to be doing’ smile) Nothing…I’m not eating anything.

(That wasn’t my question, but now it is)

Me: What are you eating?

Tristan: Nothing.  (and with another mischievous smile, he runs out of the bathroom and into the kitchen)

I follow him since he has basically ratted himself out and I find he has pushed a chair up to the counter, where the freshly made brownies were sitting.  Not only is he eating them, he’s nearly eaten ALL of them.  They are all over the counter and there is a little trail of crumbs where he must have tried to get a towel to try and clean up the evidence.

So, faced with a long clean up and a 3 year old about to go into the Mt. Everest of Sugar Highs, I did what any good parent would do…

I went back to the bathroom.