MILES TO GO BEFORE I SLEEP




How far does one walk to pick up a newly-wakened baby?

Oh, about twenty average adult female steps. (I counted them myself.)

This measurement was the shortest distance from my side of the bed to Reanna's crib, which is in the nursery across the hall from the master bedroom. The trip normally takes a few seconds, tops.

Unless it's about six in the morning.

At around this time, the average adult female that is me wakes up to discover a couple of cantaloupes which seemingly sprouted overnight in the approximate location of her upper anterior.

Hearing her baby's summoning cries, she gets up to excruciating pain, only to discover a wet spot where the cantaloupes once rested. And then she trudges, oh about twenty average adult female steps, all the way to her baby's room, leaving a trail or warm mother's milk on the carpet.

Except at six in the morning, twenty average adult female steps might as well be twenty miles. Twenty miles and two leaking watermelons.

Welcome to the pain and pleasure of weaning your baby. Reanna is starting to sleep through the night. And while I welcome the first taste of continuous overnight slumber I've had in months, a part of me now feels empty.

...the part which wakes up in the middle of the night to find her arm in pins and needles, yet dares not move for fear of waking up the sleeping baby lying on it.

...the part which still looks for the drowsy little face nuzzling at her side, rooting for its familial food source every two hours or so.

...the part which misses the gentle grunts emanating from that warm familiar bundle as it nurses sleepily beside her. (Grunts reminiscent of a delightful little piglet, not the barnyard kind but the kind they use to sniff out truffles in France.)

...the part which now welcomes a hungry bite at dawn to ease the plump tenderness and relieve the pressure of engorgement, marvelling at Mother Nature's perfect machine for milk extraction.

Slowly but surely, my baby has been waking up later and later. Pretty soon, she'll be sleeping through the night, officially ending our co-sleeping period.

It is one of the most painful experiences a nursing mother has to endure.

Both literally and emotionally.




(PLUGGING: "Day 2: A Knight to Remember", the latest installment in the "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series on our Disneyland vacation at 87 GENTLE STREET.)

LIFE'S LITTLE REWARDS

I am basking in the fruits of my first harvest.

When you have children, the saying "You reap what you sow" takes on a lot more significance. Yesterday, I wrote this letter to Lance's kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Ortega:

Dear Mrs. Ortega,
Last night, Lorenzo read his very first REAL book, Thomas the Tank Engine's "Catch Me Catch Me", to the rest of the family. I was so thrilled and proud. I just wanted to let you know and to thank you.
Sincerely, Renee Sereno

(Lance is known as Lorenzo in school. He is one of the youngest in his class, having just turned five last November.)

My husband and I buy books for our kids every chance we get. We also read to them regularly. Teachers now recommend that parents read to their children twenty minutes a day, as Rosemary Wells charmingly captures in her book...


READ TO YOUR BUNNY




Read to your bunny often,
It's twenty minutes of fun.
It's twenty minutes of moonlight,
And twenty minutes of sun.
Twenty old-favorite minutes,
Twenty minutes brand-new,
Read to your bunny often,
And...

Your bunny will read to you.

Twenty minutes is all it takes. And the pleasure you get in return is boundless.


(PLUGGING: "Day 2: A Knight to Remember", the latest installment in my "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series about our Disneyland vacation at 87 GENTLE STREET.)

SWEET NATURE




While driving through the backroads of Modesto, we saw the sun's rays scatter from underneath a bank of clouds. Lorenzo quickly pulled over so I could shoot this picture with his cell phone. Too bad we didn't have our digicam, which would've shown the rays to full advantage.

Soon we were back on our way. We love driving the long backroads around this time of year, seeing the fields in a riot of flowers under the tentative sunshine. These, to me, are a promise of, as well as a preamble to spring.

I love living in the Central Valley. There is a raw earthiness to it which I find very appealing. I find this quite surprising, since I have never picked up a gardening tool in my life due to my deathly fear of earthworms. I am one of those people who choose to love Nature from afar. I develop hives at the mere mention of grass and topsoil.

This is why I love Modesto. Once I've met my tolerance quota of strawberry fields and dairy farms, I can retreat safely to my little patch of paved suburbia, mere minutes away.

But I digress from my story. On THAT day when the sun shone so awesomely beautiful that we felt God's presence, we also passed a dairy farm on the side of the road. It didn't take long before THIS was heard from the back seat:

TROY: Look, Daddy, a spotty cow!

(Holstein cows are known as "spotty cows" in our family because they share the same black and white coloring as our pit bull, Spot.)




I was wondering why Lance was quiet. He usually beats his little brother to the draw when it comes to spotting spotty cows. I guess my son was deep in thought. Sure enough, after a few seconds of silence, we heard a curious voice coming from behind us:

LANCE: Daddy, when cows play in the snow, does their milk turn to ice cream?

Lord, please let my kids retain the sweet innocence of youth long after their peers start listening to rap music and badgering their parents for Game Boys.

Amen.


(PLUGGING: "Day 2: A Knight to Remember", the latest in the "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series on our Disneyland vacation at 87 GENTLE STREET.)

WEEKEND BLISS

What's better than sleeping in on a Saturday?

Sleeping in and waking up to your husband's voice, amplified via Magic Mic, serenading you from the family room with your favorite songs.

What's better than sleeping in on a Saturday and waking up to a serenade?

Sleeping in on a Saturday, waking up to a serenade, and coming down to THIS



...waiting for you on the stove, courtesy of the same man singing in front of you.

It doesn't get much better than that.


(PLUGGING: "Day 2: A Knight To Remember", the latest in the ROYAL HOLIDAY series on our Disneyland vacation at 87 GENTLE STREET. Yes. An update. Finally.)

MY FUNNY VALENTINE




Lance, my five year old, made a killing in Valentines this year.

My personal favorite was the handmade one he got from Mommy and Daddy, with a special note just for him, read aloud in class by his kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Ortega.

Looking through all the Valentines he brought home however, I must say that my son's offerings stood out from all the others. Ever the nonconformist, Lance handed out little red origami boxes instead of hearts.

And instead of chocolates covered in red foil, they contained plain salt water taffy, their wide array of colors showing through their plain wax paper wrapping.

He came home with an extra couple of these, which he generously offered to Troy. He also shared the rest of his Valentine's candy with his little brother, but there was one Valentine which he kept to himself, the one given to him by his "girl friend", Nathalie.

See, Nathalie, unlike the other girls in their class, gave out tattoos this year instead of candy.

I can see a real future between those two.

TO THE MAN I LOVE




Today is our eighth Valentine's together, yet the feeling is stronger than ever.

Thanks to you, and the love notes you leave in the most unexpected places, and the little love offerings waiting for me when I come down in the morning.



(Only YOU can make apples and vienna sausages seem so romantic.)

If we were still in our love nest in Malate, we'd probably be dressing up for dinner at the Champagne Room, followed by music at a lounge somewhere, finally capped with coffee at our favorite table in Cafe Adriatico. And then we'd head back home and watch the sunrise from our balcony, with its 270 degree views of Manila Bay and the Makati and Ortigas skylines.

At least that's what we did when THIS picture was taken...




Instead I am now at our kitchen in Modesto, helping Lance make homemade Valentines for his kindergarten classmates, after eating the delicious breakfast you cooked (which, by the way, put my cinnamon rolls to shame).

Troy runs to me every commercial break with a hug and an "I love you", at the behest of Moose A. Moose, and Reanna is beaming at me from her swing, flashing what I imagine to be a self-satisfied smile after she said "MOM" for the first time while I was feeding her breakfast.

Since we got your phone call telling us we're eating out tonight, Lance has requested spaghetti while Troy declared he preferred hotdogs. Reanna doesn't really have a preference (as long as we don't forget her baby cereal), while I am personally leaning towards our favorite Thai place downtown.

We now wait for you to come home for arbitration. In the meantime, there's the business of picking up the van from the shop and taking the kids to gym class.

Yes, this is our life now, and I couldn't be happier with the way things turned out.

But I would still like to thank you for keeping the spark alive everyday, with your TagBoard "I love you"'s, your morning greetings to EACH of us waiting in our voice mail, and the hugs and kisses I've come to expect when you walk into the house at night, not caring that I smell like dinner.

Indeed, after eight years and three beautiful kids together...



You still make me feel like a giddy school girl.




Happy Valentine's Day, my love.

SPIDERMAN SIGHTED IN MODESTO!




This just in. The Amazing Spiderman of "Where In The World Is Spiderman?" fame was recently spotted doing the rounds in Modesto and nearby Ceres, CA.

Okay, so the suction cups were a dead giveaway. This isn't the famous Spidey, BATJAY's traveling companion, sidekick and photography model extraordinaire. It's really my sons' bath toy, which someone playfully mounted on the framed print in our children's bathroom.

Which isn't to say that the REAL Spiderman is not lurking around somewhere. After all, BATJAY and BATJET are in town. Here they are with the kids.




These pictures were taken last night at my brother-in-law, Simon's house in nearby Ceres, CA. Simon is LORENZO's older brother, and is closer in age to Jay, who happens to be their first cousin. All men share the same lung capacity, booming voices and zany sense of humor. And of course, that famous Sereno singkit smile...




Jay and Jet have seen Lance and Troy before, but this was the first time they met Reanna. Of course, Lorenzo the doting Dad couldn't wait to show her off.




Jay also happens to be Reanna's ninong, or at least he will be when Reanna is dedicated to the Lord sometime in April. Jay and Jet lost no time in getting to know their new inaanak. Jay was wary of touching her at first, since he was feeling a bit under the weather, but Jet and Reanna bonded immediately.




My baby even fell asleep nestled in her Auntie Jet's arms. Based on this picture, she wasn't the only one overcome by Jet's soothing presence.




Soon everyone else flocked to the couch, some genuinely sleepy, some just hamming it up. But there was one thing we all had in common...




A lovely time spent in the company of family.


(PLUGGING: "Day 1: Flight of the Bumblebees", the next installment in the "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series on our Disneyland vacation at 87 GENTLE STREET, with additional pictures in my photoblog, BRAG BOOK.)

POST-ASH WEDNESDAY PORK CHOPS

Isn't it ironic that Chinese New Year and Ash Wednesday fell on the same day?

I wonder if pork made its way to many a Chinese lariat this year. I happen to be one of those people who feel short-changed if they don't find sweet-and-sour-pork in the menu of a Chinese restaurant. So I have pedestrian tastes. Sue me.

I have always loved the taste and texture of pork. I enjoy it swimming in broth in Sinigang na Baboy, skewered and barbecued over hot coals, and cooked in chunks with tomato sauce in afritada. When I have bagoong and tomatoes on hand, I make binagoongang baboy, and when I'm really in the mood, I add ginger, hot peppers and a can of coconut milk to the recipe to transform it to binagoongang baboy sa gata. I have also, through trial and error, finally discovered the secret to cooking a mean adobo.

But nothing brings me back to my childhood more than the mere mention of pork chops. I remember tucking into them, fried plainly at home, or with a crisp coating of bread crumbs and eggs in my high school cafeteria.

When I moved to the States, I was disappointed at the lack of flavor of their pork chops here. In fact, since I moved to the U.S. in 1992, I have only found two restaurants which served a decent pork chop entree: Outback Steak House and this obscure restaurant called Steak and Pasta in the hills of Northern Kentucky.

And so, I've had to make do with the home-cooked version. I recently made THIS pork chop recipe, unwittingly on the eve of Ash Wednesday of all days. (We're Born Again Christians, not Catholic, thus the oversight.)

The flavor of this dish is refreshingly different from the regular, run-of-the-mill fried (prito) or charbroiled (inihaw) staples. Oh, and I have All Recipes to thank for it. I give credit where credit is due.

First, you drain a big can of unsweetened pineapple chunks, saving all the juice. Don't be tempted to pop a few chunks in your mouth. I did, and regretted it later when I ran out of the cooked pineapple to eat with my pork chops.

Then I mixed together some flour, curry powder, and salt, and tossed the pork chops around in the mixture. It didn't take long for my kids to ask me if I was playing with the food, but I pointedly ignored them, placing the coated chops in a pan full of hot oil.

The sizzling sound was enough to scare the little scamps away.

After browning the chops on both sides, I dumped the drained pineapple into the mix and stirred things up a bit. And then, the final touch: the sauce, which I made with the pineapple juice, some honey, cinnamon, and a little more salt.

You simmer the chops in this on low heat until they're cooked through.

Best served with hot, fluffy white rice. You'll need lots. It's THAT good.

Enjoy!


(PLUGGING: "Day 1: Flight of the Bumblebees", the next installment in my "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series at 87 GENTLE STREET, with more pictures in my photoblog, BRAG BOOK.)

KUNG HEI FAT CHOI




Happy Chinese New Year!

This picture was taken after Lance came home from kindergarten class. They made Chinese hats and fans to celebrate the Chinese Lunar New Year.

Oh, I love that chinky-eyed boy!

From my pamilyang singkit (chinky-eyed family) to the rest of singkitdom, Welcome to the YEAR OF THE ROOSTER. Kung Hei Fat Choi!

To answer your unspoken question: No, we're not Chinese.

But send us your tikoy anyway.

MUSICAL TAG

(Thanks to KAT, for tagging me. Hope you don't mind if I take a song from your Random 10. As I've told you before, I also LOVE "Love Song" by The Cure.

Same goes to HUNDUN, who also tagged me without my knowing. Coincidentally, she and I shared a common song as well, Duncan Sheik's "Barely Breathing".)


RANDOM TEN:

1. "Love Song" - The Cure
2. "Barely Breathing" - Duncan Sheik
3. "Victims" - Culture Club
4. "Ordinary Kind of Woman" - "Pippin" Broadway Cast recording (so ME!)
5. "How Can I Be Sure?" - The Rascals
6. "Wildflower" - The Cult
7. "I'd Be Surprisingly Good For You" - Patti LuPone's Evita, NOT Madonna.
8. "Goodbye Girl" - Go West
9. a toss-up between "Good Enough" and "Fear" - Sarah McLachlan
10. "Beautiful Maria of my Soul" (Theme from "The Mambo Kings") - Los Lobos, although Antonio Banderas was better in "La Bella Maria de mi Amor", the Spanish version.

1. What is the total amount of music files on your computer?
None. I prefer to squander my limited disc space on pictures.

2. The last CD you bought is:
I wish my answer could be cooler, but honestly, the last CD I bought is Fisher-Price's Little People "Songs and Games for the Road".

3. What is the last song you listened to before this message:
"Come on, Vamonos!", the Dora the Explorer theme. (Troy's watching TV.)

4. Write down five songs you listen to a lot or mean a lot to you:

a) "You're the Only Woman" - Ambrosia, for it's super-kilig factor
b) "With You I'm Born Again" - Billy Davis and Syreeta, because Lorenzo and I sang it perfectly (blending and all), on our very first karaoke date in Music 21. It's also OUR song.
c) "Sweet Sexy Thing" - Nu Flavor , ouf first dance. We aced THAT too.
d) "Through All The Years" (Christian song) - Emmanuel Flores and Grace Sazon (our wedding singers), because everyone was moved to tears when they sang it at our wedding. Manny and Grace eventually got married to each other.
e) "At Seventeen" - Janis Ian, because it's the only song where I consistently get a 100% score in my Magic Mic. "Love Is A Battlefield" is too darn difficult.

5. Who are you gonna pass this stick to? (3 persons and why)

I wanted to find people of MY generation to pass this baton to, people who cringe when they hear the words "Freaky" and "Metallic Gigolo", but secretly remember the dance steps. People who probably cut class to watch "Bagets" and wore Vicky Lopez to their JS proms. Sadly, there aren't too many of us blogging out there.

Oh, and just for the record, I wanted to tag MONA too, but since she recently changed "Renaissance Girl"'s format from "Dailies" to "Stories", I didn't want to end her present run of COOL-ness. Anyway, she and I went through that whole Boy George thing when we were blockmates in U.P.. THAT was enough to exempt her.

And so, my Mythical Three are:

a) JET, because she's embarking on another chapter in her life, and I would like to cheer her on,
b) LINNOR, because she is proof positive that women my age can have three kids and STILL look wonderful, and
c) DON LORENZO DE MODESTO, because I will personally TAG him, and require him to SING his answers. Anything to get a serenade from that man.




(PLUGGING: "Day 1: Flight of the Bumblebees", the first day of our Disneyland Vacation in the "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series at 87 GENTLE STREET and in my photoblog, BRAG BOOK.)

BREAKFAST AT McDADDY'S



I love having breakfast at McDonald's.

Truth be told, I would love to have breakfast at Jollibee even more, but since the nearest outlet is over a hundred miles away, it's more practical to set one's sights on what's attainable.

And so I'd gladly settle for breakfast under the Golden Arches. A highly elusive meal since I am rarely out of the house before 11 a.m..

Especially on weekends. Weekends are sacred in my family. Two glorious days when everyone can sleep in. All our close friends and family members know NOT to call us before noon on Saturday and Sunday. We leave our ringers off. This way, nobody wakes us up until we're ready and willing.

And so breakfast at McDonald's continues to elude us. Oh, we've learned to make do with what we have on hand, breakfast-wise. For instance, I've perfected a technique to making healthy Egg McMuffin sandwiches using just my microwave and a toaster (I use ham patties instead of sausage), and it's really quite easy to make a homemade version of McDonald's' Big Breakfast. On the odd occasion when I DO get up bright and early, I even top Mickey D.'s big breakfast by offering WAFFLES instead of pancakes.

But there is one thing I haven't tried duplicating at home. McDonald's Breakfast Burritos. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE biting into the soft tortilla filled with all the components of my favorite breakfast omelette, but the idea of making scrambled eggs in one pan, cooking sausages in another, chopping up onions and peppers and sauteeing them in a third pan and heating tortillas over the last available burner does NOT appeal to me.

Good thing my husband doesn't share this attitude (okay, so it WAS defeatist in nature). Fueled by the good weather over the weekend, Lorenzo woke up with a spring in his step and a determined look in his eye. He headed straight for the kitchen, his stride purposeful, his heart set. He was on the hunt for ingredients to the BEST BREAKFAST BURRITO EVER, and nothing would stand in his way.

He quickly found the eggs, which he scrambled with a liberal sprinkling of freshly ground pepper. The pantry yielded a package of Mission Garden Spinach Herb Wraps and a large can of Rosarita's refried beans. And then there was the business of choosing which sausage: breakfast? smoked? Chinese? Kielbasa? Vienna? Lorenzo settled on Chinese. There was a slight setback when he couldn't find any onions and green peppers. Undaunted, he soldiered on, discovering red potatoes and utilizing these, diced and pan-fried in extra virgin olive oil.

With a flourish, Lorenzo assembled his culinary masterpiece over the green glorified tortillas and added the final touches: coarsely grated cheddar and jack cheese and a liberal dollop of salsa.

It was, in a word, divine. The taste of the Chinese sausage brought me back to my childhood, but the eclectic melding of Eastern and Tex-Mex flavors, the smoothness of the refried beans, the chewy stringiness of the cheese, and the piquant zing of the salsa brought me pleasure in the present. The bold flavor of the sausage was a little too strong for Lance and Troy, so Daddy made them vegetarian versions, which they downed with gusto. Later, Lorenzo would make them more, this time with Vienna sausage, which won the boys' immediate stamp of approval.




So there you have it, our very own version of McDonald's breakfast burritos, courtesy of our very own MacDaddy.

Now if I could only find the secret recipe for those hash browns...


(PLUGGING: "Day 1: Flight of the Bumblebees", the latest in the "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series on our Disneyland vacation at 87 GENTLE STREET, and in my photoblog, BRAG BOOK.)

FATHERLY ADVICE




(Prada Mama's NOTE: For the first time in the history of this blog, I am featuring a GUEST WRITER, my HUSBAND, Don Lorenzo de Modesto, who had THIS to say about Lance's little VISIT to the Principal's Office. He also posted this in the Comments section to "Should've Touched Wood", but I think it deserves more visibility, so I'm posting it here.

Read it, and I think you'll agree...)


I actually sat him down and we had a Man to Man talk. I explained to him that this type of behavior is not acceptable and will not be tolerated, therefore he must be punished.

My poor boy was really feeling down for what he did and most of all for being grounded. So I told him that he should always look on the bright side, no matter what the situation may be...it could be worse. I told him that the best thing about making a mistake is that you learn from it and hopefully it'll make you a better person. With that in mind, I hope that this incident doesn't repeat itself.

But, if for some unexplainable reason it does...never hit the face, go for a bigger target, center mass, you'll never miss. And if the odds are overwhelmingly against you, hit (kick and/or knee) between the legs and do an openhanded strike smack dab on the nose, hopefully with enough force (it doesn't take much) just to break it but not too much as to shove pieces of bones and cartilage to the brain. Remember, the object is to neutralize, not euthanize the threat. I also shared with my boy all the bad words in my book, in English, Spanish, Vietnamese and Tagalog.

In closing, I told my boy, in the future, if you know you're about to act on something that is wrong; if you are going to make a mistake, make it BIG. Make sure the punishment is well worth the crime. I will miss you on our Movie Night. Mommy and I will forever love you.


Now doesn't THAT just make you feel warm and fuzzy all over?


(PLUGGING: For more warm and fuzzy family moments (genuine, this time) Read "Day 1: Flight of the Bumblebees", the next installment in my "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series on 87 GENTLE STREET.)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAX!




Okay, the pea soup fog has dissipated, and the sun is out again.

I must say that I haven't really learned my lesson because once more, I am declaring this to be a BEAUTIFUL day. (see previous post)

No, I am not in some vain quest to tempt the gods. I don't care if Zeus himself throws a thunderbolt at me. Today I am impervious to assault. The reason? My son, MAX, is turning twelve today, and NOTHING can bring me down.

Twelve years. How time has passed. It seems just like yesterday when he was born, on that other beautiful day in Miami. Memories of more beautiful days flood my mind. Pushing him in the stroller at the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. Picking him up from Casa Montessori in Makati. Hearing his baby screams of delight upon touching the neighbor's cat in Cincinnati. And watching him frolic by the pool in Hong Kong.

The picture above was taken at the Conrad Hotel when Max was three. Later that evening, Max would freak me out in what has become one of my creepiest memories. There we were, in our hotel suite...

We had just bought a new Nikon SLR Camera with all the bells and whistles. I was eager to try it out, so I told Max to sit on the wooden chest in the bedroom. Max perched on the corner. I told him to move to the center so that I could take a better picture. Max says, "I can't". "Why not?", I ask, and his reply chills me to the bone: "Because there's someone there."

I did NOT sleep a wink that night.

Last week, I reminded Max of that scary moment in Hong Kong, and asked him if he remembered what he saw back then. I heard a chuckle on the other line. Turns out he was just playing with me at the time. And I was hoodwinked into believing it all these years.

Kids. They know just the right buttons to push, don't they?

SHOULD'VE TOUCHED WOOD

Talk about jinxing myself.

Yesterday, I wrote about the Prodigal Sun's return. Today, Lorenzo and I woke up to pea soup fog. And I mean PEA. SOUP. FOG.

Yesterday, I woke up hale and hearty. And then I dipped my Oreo into Lance's milk and IMMEDIATELY caught his cold. Serves me right for being too lazy to get another jug of milk from the garage.

Yesterday, I ended my post with the statement "NOTHING can dampen my day". Famous last words. Not even an hour later, Lance emerged from the school bus with a note pinned to his sweater, telling me he was sent to the Principal's Office for fighting with a classmate and using profanity. PROFANITY.

Great. I could feel a full-blown migraine rearing its ugly head. How could my son, whom I was informed was one of the smartest in his class, morph overnight from model student to juvenile delinquent? We're talking about a five-year-old here. In KINDERGARTEN.

I put on my sternest look and asked Lance what happened. He told me the other kid "took his spot in the line". Okay, I could see how that could push my son, the Alpha Male, into drastic action. But there was that other thing...

MOMMY: It says here you used profanity.
LANCE: What's profanity?
MOMMY: A bad word. Did you say a bad word to him?
(Silence. But the guilty look and averted eyes said everything.)
MOMMY: Tell me. What word did you say?
LANCE: (almost whispering) Asshole.

I tell you, I nearly had a conniption.

I know he didn't learn that word at home. The only TV channels my kids are allowed to watch are PBS Kids and Noggin, which is the only reason I pay Comcast Cable over a hundred dollars a month for their Platinum package.

Admittedly, Lorenzo and I are sometimes guilty of letting the odd Tagalog expletive slip past our immediately repentant lips, but such moments are few and far between.

And then the light turns on on top of my head. Yes, Lance may not have heard it AT HOME, but that doesn't mean he hasn't heard it FROM US. Like in THE CAR, for instance? Cursing out a fellow motorist in an unguarded moment?

I can almost hear the judge's gavel. GUILTY AS CHARGED.

And so, as I mete out punishment in the form of solitary confinement (in his room, doing homework) I make a mental note to be more careful myself.

Big Brother (along with Little Brother and Baby Sister) is watching.


(Finally, an update in the "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series at 87 GENTLE STREET! PLUGGING: "Day 1: The Flight of the Bumblebees", text and pictures available at both 87 GENTLE STREET and in my photoblog, BRAG BOOK.)

THE SUN ALSO RISES

Ahhh...good ol' Sol's back.

We caught our first glimpse of the sun on Friday morning, which dawned beautifully. What made it even more special was LORENZO was there to join us at the beginning of our day. He didn't have to be at work until after lunch, so he was able to walk Lance to his school bus. This picture was taken when he returned home.



A funny thing happened on the way to the bus stop, but I'll let my husband tell you about it when he's ready. And yes, he's holding a toy car and a Power Ranger in his hands, but to say more would spoil the story.

So began the first sunny weekend we've had for quite a while. Lance and Troy couldn't wait to play outside, so they just donned jackets on top of their jammies, put on their shoes and helmets, and rode their tricycles around our backyard while Daddy worked on the pool.




I also made one of their favorite summer treats, Tuna Tostadas, which they ate minus the Tapatio chili sauce Mommy and Daddy can't do without. I got this recipe during Lance's preschool POOL PARTY last June. Just mix together drained cans of whole kernel corn, peas and carrots, diced potatoes, and tuna. Add diced fresh tomatoes and mayonnaise to taste. Sprinkle with freshly ground pepper. Serve on top of crispy tostadas (I prefer the Guerrero brand). Que rico.



It's also a clever way of disguising those veggies, so it's healthy to boot!

To counter cabin fever, I enrolled Lance and Troy in Kindergym. Yesterday, I took them to their first gym class, and they had a wonderful time. It was a great way to release all their pent-up energy. Too bad I forgot my camera, but I was able to capture this shot of Troy doing a forward roll with my cell phone.




I don't know how long this weather will hold up, but so far it's still beautiful out there. Maybe the worst of winter is behind us, but I wouldn't bet on it. Anyway, no matter how cold and dreary it is outside, I will always have my little rays of sunshine around me to make me feel warm all over.

Here comes one of them now, straight from raiding the cookie jar. The familiar scent of Eau de Oreo overcomes me.



And I know NOTHING can dampen my day.


(PLUGGING: "Day 1: The Flight of the Bumblebees", the next installment in the "ROYAL HOLIDAY" series at 87 GENTLE STREET, with additional pictures in my photoblog, BRAG BOOK.)