Friday, November 24, 2006

The Pact

Laura, Lindsay and I made a pact that we would simultaneously update our long forgotten blogs this week....Lindsay probably will, if she's not too busy Papier Mache-ing a Santa or something. Laura probably won't because Law School is very important....and we made our pact at the bar on Wednesday night. Laura was last seen inches away from revisiting an old "flame".

So anyways...this is my update. Bye.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Sydney Phone Home by Aunt Kiki

The woman has done it! Done it I say! Elyse passed her nursing boards and she is now a registered nurse in the state of Washington!! Due to her busy schedule, I will be updating on Sydney, Elyse and the family has they swing and swift with life and bend and stretch to accommodate Elyse’s long commute to work.

As I can only boast, at the age of 22 months, Sydney’s vocabulary is stellar. The kid is a walking, talking baby dictionary. She will repeat anything you say (which means Kiki has to clean her mouth) and she is all about singing songs, from nursery rhymes to Tim McGraw. Books are huge in…her book, along with car rides, wagon rides and the double-trouble twin boys that live next door, Sonny and Tom.

Talking on the phone is the new big thing. Before, the phone was merely something distracting her mother from playing with her. Now, voices come out of it and more often than not, it’s Kiki on the other end. Sydney’s now old enough to answer me when I ask her what she’s doing, though it’s usually a one word answer, like “book” or “Caillou.” I can see that, in the not so distant future, she and I will be ringing up phone bills like her mother and I do.

Elyse and I have the same cell phone. They are often sitting next to each other on the coffee table when I visit. Sydney has discovered how to tell them apart. The pictures on the inside. Elyse’s phone opens to a picture of Sydney in a cute blue sweater. My phone opens to the picture posted above. They are both of her, but Sydney knows which is which. Smart gal. And as you can tell, Elyse and I are huge fans of the picture phone, which also records 15 seconds of video. Fabulous and dangerous at the same time, much like Sydney.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Cone Cup by Aunt Kiki

Last Friday I ventured to the island to spend the weekend with Elyse and Sydney. In the weeks since I had last seen Sydney she had grown from calling me Kiki, to calling me by my full first name, Kendrah. (Yes, she's a genius). She was sporting a runny nose, a hellacious cough and the worst slept-deprived attitude EVER! On the second day, after a full night sleep and a long nap, Sydney was back to her old self- giggling, mischievous and clogging around in her best high heels (mind you, the heels were solely accompanied by an Elmo diaper).

Later that night, after dinner, Elyse offered Sydney a scoop of ice cream on a cone. Having never experienced such a thing- Sydney, in a bliss of ignorance, licked away at the fruity, white ice cream. I watched her slurp and drool until her tongue and lips could no longer reach the yummy at the bottom on the cone. She smashed the cone against her face a time or two in an effort to reach more of the sweet treat, but to no avail. I told her, "Take a bite, bite the cone." She looked at me perplexed. I was asking her to bite the bowl, the cup- she couldn't possibly do that! I took the cone from her and nibbled a small bite. "See, it's a cookie. Take a bite of the cookie." I handed the cone back to her and she stared at it for a minute, looking down into the pit of the crispy little cup. Hmmm.

She did take a bite. A small, petite, baby bite. She chewed, swallowed and then turned to me with a look of utter fascination. She couldn't believe it! A cookie and ice cream, all in one! Needless to say the cone disappeared in 3 shakes of a lambs tail, leaving only a mustache of ice cream behind. I wish you could have seen her face. I wish you could have witnessed that small moment of discovery. I felt so honored. I had offered up to her one of the most fabulous discoveries ever in childhood- the ice cream cone. I will never look at a wafer, waffle or sugar cone quite the same again.

Friday, June 09, 2006

Ummmm.....yeah, LOSER!!!! all 3.25 of you that read my blog previously, have I'm sure, given up due to my serious lack of....anything. I'm a loser blogger. BUT...but....K found this site that is the best thing I have ever read. It's funny and's my life in someone else's words!
I swear I haven't given up, once I pass my Nursing boards and become an actual RN, I can relax and get back to the real world. For now, I have to get back to studying. My livelyhood depends on my ability to how to make an emergency trach tube from duct tape and a juice box straw! I'm out!

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

"It's not you, you're lovely!"

My friend K and I LOVE Bridget Jones. When the movie came out, I think my Mom recommended that we rent it and we were big time hooked. (BTW, if you've read her blog you'll appreciate the fact that we tend to do nothing halfway.) We even went through a phase in which we only corresponded with each other using Bridget like language in our emails. Every message was peppered with words like "wanka" and "bloody hell", and the more we wrote the better we became at perfecting our written British accents.
A couple months ago K read through some of our old emails and sent them to me. I printed them off and shoved them into my school notebook as I hurried to class. Yesterday, as I was cleaning out my papers, I came across them again. What struck me was not the pure silliness of our obsession or the humor of our jokes, but what I saw when I read between the lines. Emerging from the deep cover of british fluff is the history of a friendship. "Wankas" become purveyors of heartache and frustration, a lonely night at home translates to certain spinsterhood, and all can be cured with vodka and Chaka Khan.
When my boyfriend broke up with me a few years ago, I cried for a day and then, well.....hell hath no fury like a Bridget scorned:
From K:
"Am appalled by blatant sacking by fickwit boyfriend. Suggest ex-boyfiend sick, not fabulous friend with great hair. Will perservere, will develop innner poise and authority and sense of self as a woman of substance, complte without boyfriend, as best way to find Mr. Right.
You will:
Experience life as a singleton, pulling out all stops.
Become extremely flirtatious and slutty.
Remind oneself of worth and beauty.

You will not:
Cry over fuckwit ex-boyfriend
Wish eveil on said fuckwit, instead feel sorry for him.
Eat entire contents of one's fridge.

Become fun and fearless cosmo girl.
Be sickly sweet to aformentioned fuckwit.
Shamelessly flaunt newly acquired single status.

Will not:
Sit in room and cry.
Give fuckwit any reason to talk bad of me.
Listen to easy listening for the over-thirties, but will instead choose cheesy ballads of female power!

If you haven't read or seen Bridget Jones, then you won't think this is funny, and may not even get it. But underneath the accent, K and I found a way to celebrate each other's fabulousness. Turning a bad situation into a joke has always been our specialty no matter what!

Wednesday, April 26, 2006


*Sigh* So this is a good illustration of why Daddy doesn't need to stay out until 2am. Because the next day, when he makes a hungover stop at Starbucks, I get stuck in the car with sweetie pie turned spawn of Sadaam. Of course it didn't help that I was laughing and taking her picture....tee hee. Next time Mom is going out until 2am....and she might not come back.

Monday, April 24, 2006

The School of Toddler

Lesson #1: Cereal
Cereal is really good. Cereal is even better when you perform the following ritual before consuming: 1. Dump cereal out of bowl or cup. Wait for Mom to notice. Grab for it maniacally like candy out of a pinata. Run away laughing. 2. Hide and watch Mom clean it up. Right as she's about to put the last kernel in the bowl, swoop in and kick the cup. Laugh and run away. 3. Go play in your room because that's where you were about to be jailed anyway.
FYI- Cereal is excellent when coated with a fine film of carpet fuzz and slobber.

Tune in next week for Lesson #2 " When Dad has too many 'Sodas'..."