He’s Still Got “It”

When one enters a new decade such as Jamie did when he turned 40 last week, there is always a bit of fear associated with it. Is he suddenly going to turn old and lame? Will he need bifocals in his 40s? What if he stops being funny and becomes a grumpy old man?

Turns out, I’m more at risk for all the above concerns because my beloved Jamie has still got it.

On his birthday, we went to a hip downtown restaurant, Zengo. If I were to have a last meal on earth, it would be their thai chicken empanadas with chile poblano rajasoaxaca cheese and mango-curry salsa.

Just thinking about it makes me want to die.

As we were driving to dinner, I babbled away like usual. The next day, I was taking the kids to see The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. We did a movie marathon over Thanksgiving where we watched the first two so we were ecstatic to take in the third installment on the big screen.

“Some critics are saying the third movie is the very best one,” I said excitedly.
“I heard that, too. Though I must say the seventh and final book is the very best.”
“How on earth do you know that?” I asked my non-reading husband.
“We read them in our sixth grade class.”
“I appreciate that but I can barely remember what I read last week, let alone what I read 30 years ago,” I retorted.
“When you’ve only read 12 books your entire life, the ones you did read are a standout.”

A few minutes later, I talked about my Christmas baking. For one of my menu items (eggnog snickerdoodles) I put just a touch too much nutmeg into the dough, almost overwhelming the flavor of the cookie.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said that too much nutmeg can be a deal-breaker,” Jamie said emphatically.
Long pause.
“Really? How many times have you said that?” I queried.
“Umm…never.”

On another note, there is one gift Jamie requests year after year: a gift card for R.E.I. (a veritable Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium for outdoor lovers). He spends hours combing through their catalog and online. Only this year was different. He plopped down at my computer and typed in the URL for the North Face’s Kira Triclimate 3-in-1 Insulated Jacket.

“Amber, I want to buy you this jacket with my birthday money.”

My jaw dropped. His spoils didn’t even come close to covering the cost of a jacket of this grandeur and magnitude.

“I can’t accept that. This is your money. You need to buy something for you.”

“This is how I want to spend it. You need a jacket more than anything. “

He’s correct. I’ve had my current ski jacket for 12 years. Not only does it no longer fit but it’s literally falling apart at the seams. I just haven’t felt like I could justify spending the money to buy a new coat.

On Saturday, off to R.E.I. we went. As I modeled my new coat, he could not have looked happier than if he had bought it for himself. And I could not have felt more humbled and blessed to have married such a wonderful, giving man.

I think I’m going to like his 40s.

Your opinion needed

This should not come as a shock to any of you but I offered the dissenting opinion on a hotly-debated child safety issue at MSNBC.com.

Come on over to MileHighMamams.com today to share your take on the controversy.

My feelings won’t be hurt be if you disagree.

But I may hold it against you forever. :)

Photo: Southwest Airlines

The HR Lady Does Christmas…No Hanukkah…No Ramadan. Just forget it.

I heard this on the radio this morning and could not stop laughing.

Mostly because as a former Party Princess/Ward Activities Committee Chair, I could sooooooo relate to all of the different, asinine requests.

Click here:

The HR Lady – Our most requested Holiday Classic!

And join me in the insane asylum at the end.

The Lord of the Gourds’ Surprise Birthday Bash

It’s a big week for birthdays: Jamie’s 40th birthday is TODAY! I’m ashamed to admit I wasn’t going to go above-and-behind for the celebration besides just a nice dinner. Between sickness, travels and our crazy work schedule (not to mention we had something going on every day this week), time is just not on our side.

Until I saw a Facebook conversation between him and my Aunt Sue wherein he stated something along the lines of, “I’m bracing myself for whatever Amber has planned for my birthday.”

CRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAP!

And so you could say I was forced into action. Last week, I sent an Evite to some of our closest friends and neighbors to come for a casual, dessert-bar surprise party on Monday night. Sound pretty easy?

Then Jamie and I both got sick.

Remember my previous post wherein I revealed our house looked like a bomb went off?

On Monday, my friend Kristen watched Bode for a couple of hours so I could go back to bed and try to sleep off the plague. It worked and I was energized enough to disinfect the entire house, unpack, play with Bode and do five loads of laundry.

It was a modern-day miracle.

My cover for getting us out of the house that evening was I was tired and didn’t want to cook dinner so we headed over to our local Qdoba. I had stashed black streamers, balloons and the desserts in the laundry room so Jamie’s sister Lisa could set them up while we were gone. I had advised our friends not to park in front of the house and to arrive promptly at 6:45 p.m. for our 7 p.m. arrival.

And get this: everything went according to plan. I hadn’t told the children about it because, welp, let’s just say keeping secrets is not one of their strong points. When we arrived home I held the kids back so Jamie could go first but when he turned the knob, it was locked.

I don’t know about you but we don’t carry house keys. Ever. We always enter through the garage and I’ve gotta admit we don’t have a spare set so if that garage door gets locked, we’re outta luck.

Exasperated, Jamie turned to me and reprimanded, “WHY DID YOU LOCK THE DOOR??!!!”

At that very moment, one of our friends flung it open while everyone shouted, “SURPRISE.”

“Surprise” wasn’t even an appropriate word. Maybe “shock” is more befitting, or even “heart attack.”

The man is, after all, 40.



Happy Birthday to the Lord of the Gourds, from those who love him most.

Pumpkin beanie hat and all.

What can Brown do for you?

Bode was the last holdout for getting the plague and exactly one week from from its introduction into our home, he waved the white flag.

Or an awful lot of Brown (with emphasis on awful).

In the middle of the night, Jamie heard a crash and figured one of the kids had fallen out of bed. A moment letter, Bode appeared in our bedroom. Turns out, the poor little dude had been wandering around in the dark in a (too-late) race to the bathroom and had run into the wall.

Talk about adding insult to injury.

This is the first time the little man has had an incident with Brown since he has been potty trained and believe me, I was wishing for those diapers last night. I’ll leave it at that. Those without children don’t want details and those with children don’t care to relive them.

I obviously kept him home from preschool today. Even though he has not napped in over a year, I insisted we lie down to take one. I recruited Fat Kitty, always a willing snooze buddy. Fat Kitty and Bode have a complicated relationship. Bode loves him to death and though Fat Kitty is a snuggler, he doesn’t appreciate being mauled.

A bit of a killjoy, if you ask me.

For this reason, Fat Kitty just kind of tolerates Bode but is indifferent toward him at best. But not today. Our fat cat strolled on over to Bode and curled himself up on the nape of his neck.

This was better than Christmas for sweet Bode. He cooed over and over about how much he loved him as he reached up to pet Fat Kitty and then me.

I do have irresistibly soft hair.

And the hope that we will finally be rid of this plague once and for all.

Lord of the Flies

First, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DEAR DAD who is truly the most honorable, supportive, tolerant and kind man I know!!!


Picture: crab hunting with my brothers and Jamie in the Outer Banks last summer. Don’t judge them for their matching shirts.

Though I did.

============

It’s been a busy travel month for sure. Almost immediately after I left town on Friday, Jamie contracted Haddie’s bug and spent the weekend miserable in bed.

I started feeling it Saturday on Park City Mountain Resort’s slopes.

It wasn’t pretty for either of us, especially for me when I got stuck in Salt Lake City’s airport last night due to fog. This picture taken by my friend Barb when we FINALLY boarded a different airplane ’bout sums up how I was feeling.

She claimed she was going to sue Delta Airlines if I got her sick during our airport fiasco.

Usually when I return home from a trip, Jamie does an amazing job cleaning the house but I had low expectations this time around. I knew he was in survival mode and had to let the kids run wild watching movies and messing up the house while he rested.

For once, my expectations were met.

Thankfully, the kids were good sports and were great at entertaining themselves even though the house fell victim to their exploits. Or, as Jamie said,

“At first, they loved the total anarchy but after a while even that got old.”

Anyone want to guess how I’ll be spending my day?….

Tips for Surviving the Dreaded “Mommy Clique” (and share your own stories)

Now that my kids have been in school for a few months, they are adjusting to an entirely new social hierarchy. Fortunately, they’re still young enough that friendship prerequisites center around if their peers are nice or if they have the same taste in clothes.

The latter was illustrated on the first day of school when my daughter Hadley met her new BFF: a girl who had the exact same pair of Twinkle Toes shoes.

In a few years, such trespasses will result in a cat fight.

But there is a murky side to the social hierarchy that is rarely discussed: the Mommy Clique. These are formed when moms are brought together while waiting for their children to emerge from school or in playgroups and at activities.

I’d like to think that moms are mutually-supportive and that is mostly the case. But often, there are deep-rooted undertones of judgment that, if not confronted, can result in a full-blown Mommy Clique.

And no one likes Mommy Mean Girls.

From my extensive six years as a mom, I have compiled a few ideas for banding together as moms. Because let’s face it: no one wants to feel like they’re the only kid in the junior high cafeteria who doesn’t have anyone with whom to sit.

Obviously, I still harbor deeply-rooted insecurities.

Do:

1) Start early. I was clueless to the whole Mommy Clique phenomenon when my kids were in preschool. I’d come, I’d go, I’d pick up my daughter and call it good. It wasn’t until the middle of the year I realized friendships were forming without me and I was that loner in the school cafeteria. Again.

2) Compliment. I am the queen of small talk (OK, any talk) but for the shy people out there, you can’t go wrong with a compliment. Praising a cute baby is a sure-fire “in.” Well, unless the baby is kind of ugly, in which case they’ll know you’re lying.

3) Reach out to the loners. Once you form friendships, it’s easy to stick with the same crowd. Try to include people standing by themselves including other moms, grandmas and fathers. My husband assures me dads have feelings, too.

I’ve also made some mistakes over the years.

Do not:

1) Judge. Moms come in different shapes, colors and backgrounds but we’re all in this together. You never know what you can learn from someone with whom you’d normally never associate.

2) Tease a mom you don’t know. Hypothetical scenario: Do not joke that she looks like an abominable snowman, even if she is dressed from head-to-toe in Michelin-Man-esque winter wear. Despite your sincere apology at your light-hearted attempt at humor, this offended mom will then ignore you the rest of the year. Hypothetically.

3) Think it’s too late to form friendships. Even if Mommy Cliques have already developed around you, stand nearby and offer constructive comments. If they’re a Mommy Clique worth knowing, they’ll embrace you in their group.

If not, nurse your wounds while watching Lindsey Lohan in Mean Girls as you down a gallon of Breyers’ Triple Chocolate Ice Cream.

This year, I vowed to make a concerted effort with developing new friendships. My daughter recently entered first grade and rides the bus home. As I waited with the other moms on the first day, I introduced myself as the “Newbie Mom at the Bus Stop” and met Kristen, a fellow rookie.

On day two, I spotted a mom whose son is in my daughter’s class. She introduced herself as Jamie and exclaimed, “You’re Amber Johnson! I love reading your articles in The Denver Post’s YourHub!”

Forget the Twinkle Toes shoes. I think I found my new bus-stop BFF.

The 12 hours before one of the most integral days in our lives…

…you know, that one day when things just have to go smoothly and you’ve done everything you can to make it happen:

  • The kids are in school and you have your wonderful friends picking them up for play dates afterward.

  • The house is immaculate.

  • You’ve been working around-the-clock so as to ensure you can block off the entire day for this important event.

  • You go to bed early so as to be well-rested in the morning.

Then–

  • You get minimal sleep because your son (who has not had night terrors in months) chooses that very night to have a recurrence.

  • You hear an urgent meowing in the morning and find out your husband accidentally locked Fat Kitty in the spare room. And the poor thing relieved himself on your favorite laptop bag & framed picture.

  • Your daughter, who had the stomach flu on Tuesday but had made a full recovery on Wednesday, woke up with stomach pain. And then diarrhea. After multiple accidents, your husband attempts to give her some medicine (and made the mistake to try to teach her to swallow a pill for the first time), which resulted in a freaked-out daughter who refused to go to school and an even more hysterical mother who packed an extra change of clothes and booted her out the door.

Ever had one of those days?!

Pukefest 2010

Did I mention just how busy I am?

Imagine how thrilled I was to receive a call from the school yesterday that Hadley had thrown up in her classroom.

Talk about a stigma. Peers remember stuff like that for a very long time.

Case in point: My childhood friends still call me “The Animal” for breaking my sixth-grade teacher Mr. Monroe’s glasses during soccer.

After I brought Hadley home from school, she walked into the house to find beloved Fat Kitty snuggling up to her blanket. She raced over, threw her arms around him and proceeded to vomit.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Fat Kitty move so fast.

A Fat Cat’s loyalties can only go so far.

Oh, and remember that gingerbread-house-making evening I was supposed to host for the young women at church? It obviously didn’t happen. I instead spent the day pumping her with liquids as she proceeded to throw everything up.

That Sierra Mist Cranberry Splash we gave her to sooth her tummy?

Here’s a little tip: RED POP stains.

The End.