Humor | Life Elevated Mom

My Coming Out Party

August 30, 2007 by Amber

On Tuesday, one of my former Seminary students came by for lunch prior to leaving for BYU. Sariah was one of my favorites in the class because 1) she was always early and believe me, 6 a.m. was early enough and 2) she never missed a day. I wish I could say the same for myself.

Oh, and she did not sleep or stare at me like I was recently transplanted from another planet. Hmmm…perhaps that is why they call us illegal aliens.

During our visit, she added to my list of reasons of why she was among my favorite students: she actually listened in class. And remembered. I was shocked as she relayed experiences I had shared a few years back. Ones I had safely locked away in my vault called Oh, the Insanity. And so thank you, Sariah for reopening that….

It was my junior year at BYU. Well, my first of three junior years if you’re really counting. I had just been accepted into the broadcast journalism program and had the illustrious job of Grunt around KBYU’s newsroom.

I worked the teleprompter and did important jobs such as inform the snotty anchor if she had lipstick on her teeth. Because most anchors are snotty, with the exception of Jed Boal and Ron Burgundy. The first of whom I actually dated; the second I only wish I had.

One day, the newscast got preempted. To kill time, one of the cameramen asked Tony (a fellow Grunt) and I if we wanted a lesson. Tony started behind the camera and I trotted over to the news desk, intending to give the best fake newscast imaginable.

I’m not sure when things started getting out of hand. Was it when I did my muscle poses at the weather board? Or when the cameraman taught Tony how to frame a shot by zooming in and out on my chest as I hammed it up by shaking ’em like I was in a mariachi band?

I was in the midst of my finale when a voice screeched out from the control room. A voice that still resonates today:

“CUT THE CAMERA! WE’VE BEEN ON THE AIR THE WHOLE TIME!”

Turns out, the newscast had not been preempted after all and had gone live at the top of the hour. For fifteen long minutes, my muscles and cha chas were splayed across the airwaves for all 14 ultra-conservative KBYU viewers to see.

My face heats up just thinking about it but my debut was undoubtedly legendary. After all, it was probably the only program to ever receive a PG-13 rating on that station. Or maybe more like an ‘R’…..

Filed Under: Favorite Posts, Humor Tagged With: embarrassing

Why you should stay on this Mommy Blogger’s good side

August 26, 2007 by Amber

I recently introduced The Hurricane to scissors. I have delayed this tutorial as long as possible because hurricanes, welp, they destroy.

My only motivation for finally showing her is knowing she would have to use them in preschool. And heaven forbid if my kid flunked Scissor Cutting 101 and was held back from kindergarten an extra 365 days.

I rummaged through the newspaper and retrieved some ads from J.C. Penny to use as our testing ground. We started slowly with suitcases and necklaces until Hadley accidentally cut off a model’s legs. She lamented “hurting” the nice lady but I brightly consoled her that she could not feel it because she does painful things such as starving herself for fun.

And so we chopped up malnourished models for the rest of our lesson.

It actually proved to be great failed diet therapy.

Next lesson? Sewing.

Filed Under: Hadley, Humor

Hunky Hubbyisms Edition No. 243

August 21, 2007 by Amber

Jamie: On Proving that Women Aren’t the Only Ones Who Are Experts at Inducing Spousal Guilt

After day two of hauling Bode around in the water in Mexico, I finally sprung and bought a dolphin watertoy for $20, about double the price if we had bought it at home. Bode loved it and Hadley enjoyed pulling him around the pool.

“Jamie, I’d have to say this is the best $20 I’ve ever spent!”

He looked at me, feigning insult.

“Oh really? Mine was our wedding license.”

Jamie: On Building Our Children’s Self Esteem

Our hotel in Mexico had a kid’s club but unfortunately, Haddie was just shy of eligibility.

“Blast! Jamie, it says the minimum age for participation is 4 years old.”

“We’ll just tell them Hadley is a ‘dumb 4.'”

Jamie: On Being a Rock Star

I am not a fan of casseroles. I am even less a fan of our squash garden that multiplies like rabbits. However, after our 50 gazillioneth squash dish, I figured I needed to try something new and stumbled upon a squash casserole recipe.The ingredients were pretty bland with such things as sour cream and cream of chicken soup. It also called for garlic so I overcompensated by laying it on. Thick.

I was instantly remorseful and forewarned Jamie at the dinner table.

“Amber, don’t worry. It doesn’t need to be a rock concert in your mouth every time.”

He took a bite and paused for reflection before commenting: “And this…is acid rock.”

Filed Under: Humor, Jamie, Marriage, travel

BlogHer Colorado!

August 19, 2007 by Amber

Since returning from vacation, I have had a dose of reality. Actually, I have ODed on it with planning our ward’s Labor Day breakfast and my latest assignment–volleyball coach–which will eat up the next couple of months of my life. Oh, and did I mention Mile High Mamas is launching next month?

My friend also recruited me to help write the script for our upcoming roadshow. If you don’t have a clue what I am talking about, just combine Mormons and Broadway. Only the acting and singing suck. Oh, and we can’t do anything fun naughty onstage.

And did I mention my folks arrived yesterday from the Motherland after giving me only two days advanced notice? Retirement does funny things to people along the lines of being unable to commit even after your daughter badgers you for a month to set a date. Lucky for them they had the misfortune privilege of raising me so I’m indebted to them for, welp, eternity.

On Friday, I had a fun blogging lunch at The Cheesecake Factory with (from left) Annie of Anniethology, Aubrey of Anniepall, Me, Michelle of Carrot Jello (intentionally hiding), Melissa The Smiling Infidel (intentionally hiding her), Angel of Sodak Angel and Claudia of No Cool Story (she who wishes to remain anonymous).

Aubrey, Angel and I hung out together while we waited for Annie to pickup the others from the airport. And waited and waited. First, there was delayed luggage and then there was their detour and subsequent disorientation through downtown Denver. Not to be forgotten is when one directionally-challenged airhead (me) attempted to guide another (Annie) over the phone.

They were an hour and a half late.

This span of time was just enough for sweet Aubrey, spunky Angel and I to have an in-depth discussion about bikini waxes and boob jobs. And those are only topics I can discuss.

When the others arrived, it was like a high school reunion. Only I actually liked these people.

I sat across from Carrot and Melissa who delighted me as they creatively chewed their food in front of the mirror behind my head. They had me chuckling with their quick wit and jovial personalities. And superb mastication skills.

Claudia sat on the opposite end of the table and we shouted pleasantries back and forth. I have been a fan of Claudia’s since she designed these stellar buttons around the same time the awards craze was hitting. It then came time for the gift exchange. The funny thing was I did not receive the memo that it is blogging etiquette to butter up your new friends. Carrot bought us each huge pens, Elastic had personalized bubble pen necklaces and some cute gifts for Haddie. Claudia brought some tasty jam and chocolate while Angel made each of us personalized plaques. Mine said: ” Crazy is a relative term in my family.”

Who knew?

Evidently everyone on the Internet.

Filed Under: Family, Humor

Love and Lessons in Mexico

August 15, 2007 by Amber

We have returned from our Mexican vacation! All the Amber “Murphy” elements were potentially there: 60% chance of rain everyday, long flights and two small children in the same hotel room. Oh yeah, and the probability of getting sick, which is what I do on every stinkin’ vacation.

But shockingly, the entire trip went smoothly. We had only one brief brush with rain, the kids were fantastic in flight and were even better sleepers at night. It was pretty darn idyllic. Well, notwithstanding the stye that blossomed in my eye and that one ‘lil night when I almost didn’t make it to the bathroom in time, both minor on the Amber Richter Scale of Catastrophes.

We stayed at El Cid Castillo Beach Hotel in Mazatlan. After slugging through the heat and humidity, we were greeted with a fantastic corner room at garden level with quick access to both the pool and beach.

Stellar views aside, the highlight of the room was that blessed, blessed blast of frigid air when we entered. I squealed with delight but watched with dismay as the children’s little fingers quickly formed icicles. Now, there are times in a parent’s life when the best interest of their children is of the utmost importance.

This was not one of those times.

And so I did what any heat-challenged mother would do: I kept that air ‘a blasting, bundled up their little ice cube hands and made a mental note to bring their snowsuits next time.

They are just now dethawing.

Our sole purpose of this trip was to expose the kids to the water. Unlike our usual adventure-travel itinerary, we did not attempt any excursions. We just ate, swam and slept. And then ate some more.

Even in my sand-repugnant state, I envisioned burying Jamie in it, building sand castles and searching for sea shells. All of this would have happened had it not been for The Pool–touted as the largest in Mexico. The same hallowed structure that, with its waterfalls, waterslides and caves, became The Hurricane’s obsession. Any mention of the beach brought about tedious tantrums; not so much because it was the beach but because IT WAS NOT THE POOL.

In her defense, she learned how to swim in that pool and could go for several yards underwater. I should know. She yelled at me to watch her a minimum of 3,602 times.

While Bubby loved the water, he enjoyed being the Don Juan de Mexico even more. It was rare for us to pass even one Senorita who did not coo and paw at him. He would always recoil in shyness and clutch me tightly, which would endear him to his admirers even more. They would approach him, smash their bosoms into his face and a devious little smile would finally emerge. The kid had a system.

So did I, only mine involved tapping into my airheaded Polish roots (which, incidentally are naturally blond so I really don’t stand a chance in this life). When packing to go home, I painstakingly ziplocked all our liquids and carefully placed them in our main luggage. And then took our Mexican vanilla gifts and absentmindedly placed them between a stack of diapers…in our carry-on.

I just hope the mean men in Dallas’ airport security are baking nice cakes right now.

And then there was The Camera. I won’t expound upon the amount of digital cameras I have destroyed this year. Nor how at the last minute we had to take one with film, something I haven’t used in seven years. This would explain why I foolishly opened the #$#* camera before it had rewound. Rumor has it that film does not like to be opened prematurely and rebels worse than a toddler on the beach.

But airport security and film aside, the most important thing I learned was this:

If you don’t like sand in your bed, don’t go to bed sandy.

Don’t say you haven’t been warned by this blond Pollack-Canadian airhead….

Filed Under: Bode, Family, Family travel, Hadley, Humor

Sending out an S.O.S.

August 8, 2007 by Amber

It seems an inordinate amount of time on this blog is dedicated to Hadley. And with good reason. She is the embodiment of her mother, the good, the bad and the very ugly. It makes for some great entertainment but when it gets ugly, it is really ugly.

Just ask my mother. As a young child, I was a terror and my grandma is attributed to keeping me alive the first year of my life because my longevity was the last thing on my mom’s mind. She always knowingly laughs when I tell her about The Hurricane’s latest antics and surely thinks: “Payback.”

That one little word has made her have to forgo the years of post-Amber therapy.

After four weeks of extreme potty training, I am waving the white flag. Hadley has gotten progressively more resistant and more argumentative. Our home has become a battle ground and, evidently, one big potty because she goes everywhere except the porcelain throne.

If you would have told me how difficult potty training would be, I would have laughed. She is a bright, spirited and clever little girl. She has a memory like a horse and is already piecing letters and words together. But this is more about submitting to my wishes, knowing that every wipe of her butt sends me closer to my grave. A very stinky one.

Following every accident, I’ve called Jamie. Because that is what good wives do.

“What do you want me to do with about it?”
“Be there for me to complain about it.”

Because that is what good husbands do.

I hit the wall with the whole thing last Thursday after our hundredth accident and general toddler deviance that involved her “baking a cake” with our very expensive protein powder and Splenda. This, after she plastered the walls with a can of Bode’s pricey formula. I won’t even mention The Soap Incident.

That day, I had Bode’s 1-year checkup. Note: He is 25th percentile for weight, 75th for height and remains off the charts with ear-hair growth. I couldn’t be more proud.

I also had an extensive conversation with my pediatrician.

I.e. “Doc, potty training sucks. She won’t do it.”

He looked at me dubiously before proclaiming: “Well, yeah.”

He went to seven years of medical school to tell me that?

He expounded that by forcing a kid as headstrong as Hadley, it would only be met with resistance, battles, infections and general toddler deviance. That she would only do it when she was good and ready.

After his lecture, he seemed to remember his Bedside Manner 101 class and turned empathetic.
“You seem stressed out, Amber.”

It must have been my protruding vein in my forehead that gave him the hint. That, or the fact I almost wet my pants even thinking about the potty. I have to. At least one of us has to do it.

He advised me to lay off and to stop pressuring her. That when she starts preschool in a few weeks, she will likely succumb to peer pressure and it will finally click for her.

But now, I have another problem: her naughty little brother. All this potty talk has given him an affinity for a certain book every time we sit down for storytime.

How young is too young to stage my intervenion?

Filed Under: Hadley, Humor, issues

In Training for the 2014 Olympics; Actual Event Yet To Be Determined

August 5, 2007 by Amber

I think every parent secretly has aspirations of athletic, musical or academic grandeur for their children. Even little achievements such as that first ~~face plant~~ step are met with pride as we vicariously live through them.

The Hurricane has been enrolled in gymnastics this summer and had her first big meet on Saturday. We made a big deal about it and invited The Grandparents who came to our house afterwards for a celebratory brunch.

During warm-up, another little girl showed up wearing Hadley’s exact same leotard. To make light of the situation, I pointed her out to Hadley and commented,”Oh, how fun. You match!”

Instead of delight, they regarded one another with disdain and walked past dismissively. Evidently cattiness starts at a young age. Like, how embarrassing.

Overall, Hadley performed like a champ, expertly navigating the balance beam, flipping on the bars and doing back somersaults on her floor routine. All was going well until the springboard. The kids were supposed to do “The Tigger” bounce through some hula hoops and then launch off the springboard onto a mat. Note: I said supposed to.

Now, to preface this scenario, I need to explain that Hadley has the DNA to jump. Believe it or not, she gets it from me (thought Jamie adamantly disputes this claim). Back in The Day, these short little legs of mine were long jumpers. I would train for hours on our trampoline and I even placed second in the long jump at Calgary’s city finals. Only Claudette Creary, a brawny black girl, could out-jump me. And out-run me. And out-everything me. I wonder if her photo is still on my dartboard back home.

Evidently, I am nothing if not a gracious loser.

So, back to the Hurricane. After breezing through her Tigger bounces, she bolted for the springboard. The problem is, the dear girl did not realize you are supposed to launch off it and not over it.

What followed was not pretty. The dear girl’s takeoff step was about a foot in front of the springboard as she then tried to clear it. For a moment, I swelled with pride as a marveled at my little Hurricane in flight.

But then came the landing.

Suffice it to say, it did not end well for dear little Hadley. Either time.

Maybe we’ll just stick to track-and-field in the future….

Filed Under: Hadley, Humor

Let’s Make Lots of Money

August 2, 2007 by Amber

We have enjoyed a glorious week of playgrounds, ponds, picnics and potty training. All right, so maybe the latter activity is significantly less than glorious and my patience ~~is beginning to wear thin~~ is positively anorexic.

Yesterday, I set the children loose at a fountain park. Or rather, I set the Hurricane loose.

Ever-cautious Bode analyzed these shooting streams of chlorine and calculated the associated risks. After a half hour, he hesitatingly made his approach, only to scurry back to me each time.

His downfall was not the actual fountain but rather, the brief interlude when it stopped spewing. If the kid had any sense about him, he would know that Old Faithful is just that: faithful. And those cool bubbles that formed in the interim turned very quickly into an onslaught of water.

That is where good parenting comes in.

Or at least, it should. Unless you’re out for a laugh.

It did not end well for little Bode.

While I was taking pictures of our outing, I was reminded of a hot topic at BlogHer regarding the monetization of blogs. This was highly controversial among the Mommy Bloggers in particular because critics say by having ads we are just using our children to make a buck.

And so in the light of exploitation, I am proud to announce Bode’s future with a certain sporting goods company:

And Hadley? Surely there must be some money in the en*ema market….

Filed Under: Bode, Colorado, Hadley, Humor

BlogHer Babes Part II

July 31, 2007 by Amber

Some of the best moments of my trip to BlogHer did not occur until Saturday—the day I decided to play hooky. It probably had a lot to do with my record-breaking 7.5 hours of sleep but that additional half hour of just lying in bed just may have been the highlight. Or maybe it was that I did not have even one kid using my face as a springboard.

It was tough getting out of bed but since my arrival, I had been salivating over the network of lakeside trails just adjacent to the W Lakeshore Hotel. I rented a mountain bike at The Navy Pier and headed north. My once deserted beaches and trails exploded with activity: sunbathers, swimmers, runners, cyclists and volleyball enthusiasts. Think Frogger on Wheels and you can pretty much imagine my motion.

After several miles, the crowds thinned and I reclaimed the pathway. I finally stopped at Foster Beach on a bluff called “Contemplation Point.” I kicked back for a few minutes, relishing the balm of fresh air, the army of rough waves and the sand, gradual and smooth. And, I welp, contemplated.

Really, the only downside was battling the swirling wind whose severity came as a surprise to me. Later, I had an epiphany as I shopped at the Navy Pier and observed the onslaught of souvenirs that boasted the mantra: Chicago—The Windy City.

Evidently I am not the first person to notice.

That afternoon, I met my roommates at the Imax to take in a very large, very 3-D Harry Potter.

(Me, Melina, Meg and Melissa)

We fully anticipate this will start a major fashion trend.

That night, it was off to BlogHer’s final extravaganza at The Children’s Museum. I was admittedly hesitant to attend. Though I have certainly never been characterized as shy (think Frogger on Sugar), interacting with such a large number of women was both exhausting and overwhelming.

I had a good number of both engaging and banal conversations and then stalked the conference’s closing speaker, Elizabeth Edwards. I would have approached her but 1) I had skipped her speech in order to watch the obtuse My Super Ex-Girlfriend on HBO and 2) This Canuck’s vote (or lack thereof) is useless to her. Besides, it was much more fun to play paparazzo.

I also reconnected with my favorite cohorts: Liz, the two Shannons, Lisa and Kristy. We chatted for a couple hours and experimented with how many Mommy Bloggers we would could cram into the photo booth (only four). Kristy was unfortunate to get behind The Big Haired Lady. Pictures will be forthcoming. Well, not of Kristy. Sorry, babe.

We grabbed a bite to eat (actually several bites but who was counting), and watched the fireworks on the pier. And then we grabbed more bites with my first official introduction to fried dough and wandered the pier marveling at the energy and pulse of that great city. And we ate. Or did I already mention that?

Photo: Lisa, Me, Dana, Shannon and Lovely Liz

The next day, I was welcomed home by a loving husband, eager children and a clean house. The latter element would have been accepted without suspicion if Jamie had refrained from announcing, “We kept it this clean all weekend. Really.”

And then he gave Hadley that knowing glance. The one that says, “Keep your mouth shut if you ever want to watch Dora the Explorer ever again.”

Evidently, What Happens in Denver, Stays in Denver.

Though the same could be said for Chicago….

Filed Under: Humor, outdoors, travel Tagged With: BlogHer

BlogHer Babes Part I

July 30, 2007 by Amber

My two and a half day estrogen overload a.k.a. BlogHer has finally come to an end. Well, it was actually three and a half days if you want to calculate the time spent in flight. Or rather, the time spent on the ground waiting for said flight that was canceled then rerouted through St. Louis. Did I mention I encountered extreme delays there as well?

Oh, and not to be forgotten is when I was handed what I thought was a harmless piece of paper as I was “selected” in the security line. I then underwent my own little private booth of puffer smoke and a veritable terrorist debriefing. Here’s a little hint for you: if you are selected in security it is not a good thing. Ever.

When I finally arrived in Chicago, my zany roommates Melina, Melissa, Meg and I hit the Whisky Skybar for a preliminary gathering that consisted of a small dark room, loud music and lots of women. Women who blatantly checked out each other’s ~~bosoms~~ name tags. I haven’t seen that much cleavage since…well, I guess if I was a man I could readily answer that question.

There was also blatant prostitution as women whored their business cards. “Hey, never heard of me? Likewise. Here, take this card and you will never look back.”[Insert seductive, come-hither-to-my-blog look]. I was unprepared for such debauchery and had naively printed off about 30 cards. Thirty cards that were gone within 30 seconds. I think my services would be labeled as a quickie.

I met scads of fantastic ~~whores~~ gals who included Lisa of Midwestern Mommy and Kristy of Slacker Moms R Us.

The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. (yes, that would be 4 a.m. Denver time) and went for a marvelous run along the lakeside trail. The air was dank and dark, the lake unsettled under a heady drizzling sky. I was alone for much of my trek, something I initially attributed to Chicagoans being late risers but after further retrospect decided it is because they are just a little bit smarter than I.

BlogHer was a whirlwind of swag (that I ultimately forgot in the hotel room), speed dating for chicks and classes. Lots and lots of classes. Some helpful and empowering, others notsomuch. What I was not prepared for was the rhythm and hierarchy of the blogging cliques; in some ways it was high school all over again as I was transported to the late 80s. I bemusedly sat back and observed as the band geeks accused the popular panel kids of excluding them. The only thing missing was my big bangs.

Sadly, the big hair still lives.

That night, the cocktail party was on the rooftop of the Grand Ballroom. I mingled with some fantastic gals: Jenny of Absolutely Bananas, Liz of This Full House and the two Shannons of Believer in Balance and PhatMommy.

We later wandered around lost in Chicago looking for a late-night dinner. Because getting lost is an inevitability when dealing with estrogen overload. Rest assured, we were able to ask directions due to the absence of testosterone. These events alone confirmed that I was making some bosom friends. And not the name tag kind.

Photo: Kristy and Jessica “comparing notes.”

Stay tuned for BlogHer Part II. Or rather, playing hooky from it….

Filed Under: Humor Tagged With: BlogHer