A Valentine’s Day Monster Hunter Recap

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On Friday the 13th, my husband and I set off on a quest. It had started that morning when I woke up to find my husband eagerly peering down at me from the edge of the bed.

“Do you know what today is?” He excitedly asked.

I slowly blinked my eyes. The night before we had gone to bed discussing all of the things we needed to accomplish, most prominently important was finishing the cleaning of the carpets that I had started the day before so we could get our house back together. In a too much information shared, both dogs had had two weeks of diarrhea, thankfully not at the same time, but it had made the purchase of a carpet cleaner necessary. I had spot cleaned, but I wanted to know that they were cleaner than before the last two weeks. Now that it looked like we might finally be done with the sickness, I wanted to go over the carpets thoroughly. I had finished one room, but all of my fingers had gone numb from the force with which I had gotten down on my knees and scrubbed, as only the best of us OCDs can do.

“Um, the day we’re going to finish the carpets. You are going to help me right?”

“No and yes.”

“Is it the day before Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes, but that’s not it.”

I was unsure what he expected me to say. Then I remembered the episode of “The Middle ” we had watched a few days prior. “Oh! Is it World Radio Day?”

He looked at me in exasperation. “It’s Monster Hunter Day!”

I sat straight up in bed. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner? What’s the plan?”

It turned out that his plan was vague. This would not do. I quickly surmised that we would both need a new DS to play the new Monster Hunter games (a little bit of my love shown here) to the utmost of their awesomeness. They were being released that day after years of us waiting for them. Yes, I’m thirty seven. Yes, I love video games. Let me tell you one day of the year my younger sister got a Sega System for Christmas and I got boardgames. #notoverit. To be fair, my sister still loves video games, too. I think it plays to our love of fantasy. If you think you don’t like video games, but you read fantasy books, you might want to try them again. They have some games geared for folks just like us.

So, for the next hour I procured two new DS systems, and four video games (our kids play with us) at three different stores in three different cities. It was surprisingly hard. I had no idea the systems would be a hot commodity. We were lucky to get two, because I checked ten minutes later and all of the systems were sold out in Southern California.

My husband was thrilled.

Not about my awesome online shopping skills. I knew they would come in handy one day.

He was thrilled to be going to all of the different places to pick up the bounty we scored.

“It’s a scavenger hunt!”

I once made his day by requesting we hit five different grocery stores looking for frozen manicotti. He is easy to please.

We left at noon. We drove to the first stop and picked up three of the video games. On the way, I asked if we could stop at two different Costcos in the other cities because I had wanted to check out the different items they might have from our own. In truth, I was looking for more frozen manicotti. I have a problem. My husband was even more excited. Two scavenger hunts in one day?! I never needed to buy him a present again.

Two hours later, we arrived at our second stop. We picked up the last video game and our first system. From there we hit up our first Costco. We did not find any frozen manicotti. We did, however, find my children’s most favorite thing. A whole variety box of snack sized flamin’ chips. We also got some cream brûlée in little jars even though it is best made at home.

Another hour later we picked up our last system. We were high with the rush of collecting our prizes.

The last Costco was a bust, but we picked up some pizzas to have for dinner. By the time we got home, it was 6:30. We stayed up with the kids playing Monster Hunter in our bed until 1:00 in the morning. We set up our bed like those creepy grandparents in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” I ended up staying up until 3:00 trying to finish some quests.

So, the next morning when my husband woke me up, I had a new plan.

“Honey, I don’t really want to go out for dinner tonight. Would you mind if we just ordered Chinese food and stayed home to play “Monster Hunter?”

His silence scared me. I felt like I had disappointed him. He had been talking about taking me out for Valentine’s Day all week. Then his face broke out into a wide grin. “You are the best wife ever!” He proclaimed.

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And that is why my house still looks like this.

And that is why I got no sleep.

And that is why yesterday was the best Valentine’s Day ever.

What did you do for Valentine’s Day? Did you dress up? Did you wear red or pink? I was going to wear the perfect pink and red outfit. It was a repeat of the outfit I wore on Christmas Eve. But instead I stayed in pajamas. And not the kind of pajamas one is supposed to wear on a romantic holiday. It didn’t matter. I killed a Great Jaggi and made a weapon with its hide. My husband declared it to be beautiful. Just kidding. He totally made it for me. He’s chivalrous that way. It was so romantic.

Dear Children: First Day Of School 2014

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I was informed over the summer that I do not know what junior high school boy’s fashion looks like. This might surprise you, but I am going to take that as a compliment. For many reasons.

I also learned this summer that I love sleep. Okay. This is not new. But gosh, I am going to miss late summer mornings. On the first day of school, I sobbed all of the way home after dropping you off and then crawled into bed and took a nap with your daddy. Just so you know this has continued for the last two days. It is my new favorite thing. A nap after waking. Although is that a nap? Or was my brief awake time merely a walking snooze?

Let us recount the first day of school for those of us not in our household:

I had thought the morning was going well. One child was out the door. I only had one to go. I thought it was the easy one. My daughter had needed me to flat iron her hair, help with her make-up and scrutinize her clothing skin exposure earlier in the morning. Okay, the last one was unwanted. But I cannot help it. I am a mom.

So, I thought I could cruise through the remainder of the morning with my son. All he had to do was put on a t-shirt and pants. Easy.

Except.

Well, the kid has been living in his pajamas and swim trunks for the last week. He went to put on his new first day of school shorts.

They would not button.

Not only would they not button. The button-hole and the button were so far apart it was The Grand Canyon Of Skin between them. What to do?

He unexpectedly had had a huge growth spurt and all of his pants suddenly did not fit. It was ten minutes before we had to leave.

Well, no big deal, I thought. I always purchase the next size up in pants on huge discounts when I see them. I pulled out a larger size replica of the shorts he had outgrown. They had been $6 at The Gap last year and still had the tags attached to them. They also surprisingly sported a large crusty yellow stain across the lower thigh when I went to take the tags off. This probably explains the low price and definitely explains the scream you heard from my house on Wednesday morning. There was no time to wash them. I hastily, and with great stress, found another pair in a drawer.

Note to self: next year have all of the first day of school outfits inspected and tried on before you have ten minutes to get to the school.

So, let us skip the remainder of the day (Nap. Eat. Nap. Worry) and get to the part where my children recounted their day to me over dinner:

Me to my son: “What was the best part of your day today?”

My son: “I really like my computer teacher.”

Me: “What do you like best about him?”

My son: “I love the chairs in his classroom.”

Me: “What?”

My son: “The chairs in his classroom. They swivel.”

Me: “The thing you like best about your teacher is his swivel chairs?”

My son: “Well, yea, and he has a cool classroom.”

And by cool classroom, he means a room filled with computers and swivel chairs. He lucked into his perfect elective. And hopefully not a swivel-chair-concussion.

I turned to my daughter and asked her the same question I had just asked my son, “What was the best part of your day today?”

My daughter: “Definitely the professional hugger at the pep rally.”

Me: “What the heck is a professional hugger?”

My daughter: “I don’t know but he made me cry.”

Me: “Because he hugged you?”

My daughter: “No, ugh, Mom! Because he gave the best speech.”

Me: “Did he hug anybody?”

My daughter: “No. Mom! There were hundreds of people there.”

Me: “Well, I would expect nothing less from a professional hugger. Hmmmm. I want to be hugged by a professional hugger. Maybe I am a professional hugger, only I don’t even know it because I can’t hug myself. Hug me. Let me know how I measure up.”

My daughter: “Mom! He didn’t hug me!”

Me: “Yes, I know. But as a professional hugger he must have looked very huggable so I bet you could imagine how he hugs. So just compare that to this.”

My daughter running away: “Mom!…”

That about sums it up. Swivel chairs and professional huggers. The first day of school is always full of surprises. I had started to cry that morning and my son had stopped me and said, “Mom. Don’t be that mom.”

He doesn’t know that I am always that mom.

This is a tough transitional year for me. I no longer have children in elementary school. And I never will again. No hallways decorated with sunshine faces. No noodle plates. Or Mother’s Day Teas. I have had to splinter my heart with a leftover noodle when a hole burst open from the dried-out Elmer’s glue that had been holding it together.

To my children:

Last year was an amazing school year.

You daughter, found your footing in high school and I trust in your growing maturity to continue to thrive. I am amazed at your generous spirit. Your ability to speak to anyone without fear. You surpassed me with your efficient order many years ago. Of papers. Plans. Life. You never judge and are always fair. I strive for your morals. I worry that you take on too much. An imperfectionist raising a perfectionist is my greatest challenge on my journey as your mother. You are inspiring.

You son, ended your early-childhood schooling with amazing grades and a vocabulary that I envy. You started a brand new school this year. With deodorant. Growth spurts. And a wise acceptance of change. I worry about your organizational skills that you unfortunately earned from your parents. But I have faith that you will do what you always do and breeze through your education as you gather every leaf on the tree of knowledge without ever seeming to need the wind to help you soar.

Good luck, my children. I am proud of you. Work hard. And may the Air of Wisdom be always a presence at your back and an easy whisper in your ear.

Love,

Mommy (sorry. Forgot. It is probably just Mom now)

That Mom

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

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I am not Irish. My husband is. Partly. Mostly. But I am not.

However.

I love a theme.

And a theme revolved around a color?

And little green leprechauns?

Guarding gold?

And rainbows?

How close to a gnome holiday could we be talking here?

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Here I am in a green outfit that I put together a few weeks ago. I planned on wearing this today. But it is hot.

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So, I am wearing this instead.

I also love to incorporate the green theme into the food. I could just make Irish food. But, well, I don’t really like corned beef. Or hash.

I could make green pancakes.

Or green tuna salad sandwiches.

Mmmmm. Mmmmmm.

Or green butter for toast.

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Or green salad.

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Or green milk.

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Or green pie.

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Or Lucky Charms?

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Or…

Wait! Who are we kidding? We are totally going out so my husband can have his corned beef. It is a must, afterall, on this day.

And then we will come home and eat the mint chip ice cream I made earlier in the week.

What are your plans for today? Are you wearing green? Eating it? I really want to try this Irish Creme Coffee the Pioneer Woman posted the other week.

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Or maybe I’ll just have a green shot. No Patron was hurt in the making of this post. I know it is a scary picture.

Cheers! Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

P.S. I shared this on The Cream To My Coffee.

My Valentine’s Day

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I love a theme. It’s not that I love Valentine’s Day. Or really, that I even like it. But there is just something wonderful about a day devoted to love. And I absolutely adore when people give into a day and support the theme. In this case, pink or red. I purchased this Free People bright pink caftan and I knew I wanted to wear it specifically for Valentine’s Day. I loved wearing it. It made me feel, oh, so feminine.

I also purchased my husband a tie (clearanced to $10) that matched my dress perfectly. Remember, I love when we match, too.

Double theme. Check. Double nauseating. Check.

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I was asked what I wore under this dress. It is extremely low cut, so I paired it with my eyelet bralette. It looks like a pretty supportive tank top.

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My honey brought me roses. It is kind of an inside joke. Red roses. I will write about it some time.

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My husband and I went out to lunch at our favorite restaurant. They have these fries. These fries. You guys, you have not had fries until you have had these fries. They take three days to make. It is a secret process. I have never had anything like them. You know what I’m craving now.

It was fun to see how different people interpreted Valentine’ Day through their clothing. My favorite was a little old woman in a pink shirt, red pants and flashing lit-up heart pins covering her bodice. It was awesome!

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It was a beautiful day.

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I had planned on making homemade chicken noodle soup for dinner, but my sweet mom dropped off a homemade chicken pot pie. It was so good. And much appreciated.

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And I made these macadamia nut individual brown sugar cakes for dessert.

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Did you have a good Valentine’s Day? A good weekend? What did you end up doing? Wearing?

If it wasn’t good, I hope this week is much better for you.

* P.S. I shared this on The Pleated Poppy!