I have HUGE news. Millie has an imaginary friend! He's a snow-monster named Belring, and he's awesome. I know what you're thinking "Belring is the best snow monster name I have ever heard." I know. She came up with it herself, and it was my proudest parenting moment to-date. Belring apparently wears a tiara, and eats dog food, and plays the banjo. The other night, Sean and I followed Millie around with a notebook and asked her questions about Belring. We wrote down everything she said, and I've put this book together based on the information we collected. Literally everything in this book came from her imagination, not mine.
*a note from the Artistic Director: As Millie's mother, I also served as conceptual artist on this project. The way this worked is that I randomly drew very poorly conceived snow monsters and Millie shouted "No! That's not Belring!" Until I drew this guy:
Look at his awful face. I love it so much.
Finally, Millie squealed in delight. Yes! She cried! That's Belring!
BELRING
Imagined By: Millie
Written and Illustrated By: Katie
Do you know Belring?
He lives in the snow.
Belring wears a tiara.
Do you wear a tiara?
Belring eats dog food,
and watermelon.
Do youeat dog food?
Ewww!
Yuck, Belring.
Belring’s friends are Teddy Bear, Raccoon, and Madeline the Squirrel.
Do you have friends?
Oh, Good.
Belring plays the Banjo.
And he sings his ABCs.
Can you sing your ABC’s?
Belring has parents.
Belring listens to his parents... most of the time.
Through the ages, it's been a well known fact that men can promote sexual relationships through a demonstrated proficiency at the acoustic guitar. When most of us think of this phenomenon, we think of the "free love" era; Woodstock, large shady oak trees on college campuses, and lots of people wearing polyester and living in vans.
These people all grew up to be stockbrokers.
What many people don't know is that the acoustic guitars were actually invented by early cave dwellers, who created the guitar as a way to use up surplus mastodon parts, and to seduce cave dwelling woman, who were heretofore unimpressed by their other attempts to initiate sex, such as "Hey Babe, Look how Big Rock!" And, "Me have Mastodon sized surprise for you in loin cloth!"
So, Acoustic guitars were invented, and for centuries they've become an essential tool for young men with amorous intentions. I myself am the product of such a courtship, as I sing about in my song "If Mamma Never Went to Town," A tribute to my parent's copulation. But recently, the acoustic guitar has become a less reliable consummation accomplice, and I think I know why:
1. Women learned to play guitars- This totally turned the tables on the guys. Now, all of the sudden, women were using their own weapons against them, and they were sexier than them at it!! I recall fondly, how, in college, I had a friend named Haylee who played and sang the guitar. She could make any guy we met fall in love with her in less than 45 seconds just by playing her guitar. I remember we used to go to this Italian restaurant, in our dirty, muddy rugby clothes, and she would make all the dudes there fall so hard in love with her, that all we would do the whole night was eat free Fettuchini Alfredo, and drink beer and laugh, while every once in a while she would pick her guitar back up and play "Landslide," just to placate them.
2. An over-abundance of song options has overwhelmed the men- This is a really important one. Guys and girls have totally different understandings of what is romantic. I'll give you an example. Both my husband, and the guitar playing husbands of many of my friends, love to play the song "Sweet Melissa." They think it's really romantic. We keep trying to explain to them that that song is ONLY ROMANTIC TO WOMEN NAMED MELISSA. Yet, always they play it, and I can tell that they are totally moved by it, and expect us to be as well. The same thing happens with the song "Brown Eyed Girl,*" and that blonde haired lady from Clapton's wonderful tonight." WHAT ARE YOU THINKING BOYS? And WHO IS THAT BLONDE LADY? You'd have better luck trying to seduce the white witch of Narnia by singing Santana's "Black Magic Woman."
*They are hazel, or haven't you noticed?
That's why, in fairness to the boys, I've decided to produce this "Acoustic Guitar Guide to: What to play while pursuing Sex."
So, I never got around to sharing this last winter, but it was too good not to post. In honor of our rapidly warming winter, I want to tell you all the tale of "Stalky The Snowman."
When Millie was two years old, she loved snowmen. The teachers at her school planned a whole unit around them, where the children sang songs about Frosty, and embarked on a global postcard writing campaign with their lovable friend, Olaf.
That's why, last winter she insisted on building a snowman on our back porch. She wanted to build him right outside the window, you know-- so she could stare at him all the time, even from inside her warm house. Millie named him "Frosty the Snowman." Sean and I named him "Stalky."
Here is Stalky the Snowman, attending Millie's birthday party.
Now, as you may remember, last winter was particularly cold. Months went by, and Stalky melted, and refroze, on our porch. He melted. He refroze. He melted again. He REFROZE AGAIN. Each time, he got creepier and creepier, looking more and more like the melting Nazi's in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Daily, he stared inquisitively into our warm house.
I call this picture, "Stalky's Last Stand."
Finally, one fateful day in March, Stalky melted for good. I'll never know what exactly became of Stalky.* Like Frosty, did he have to hurry home that day? If so, what was he getting from his house? Should we be worried? Will he, as the song tells "be back again some day?" God. I hope not. RIP Stalky. You were the worst.
*unless I read a basic 3rd grade science book.
RIP Stalky. We will all remember today as the day you melted, and Cricket ate your nose.
The other day, I was asking some college students that I know about emojis. You see, it's only in the last few years that I have left the ranks of the Luddites and joined the smart phone revolution. In years past, I've been a notoriously bad texter, but, as my friends will tell you, I'm still very bad at starting to get better about text messages. The two people I text with most often are my sisters, Kelly and Tori. They are so good at texting that my smart phone now receives at least 12 memes featuring Ryan Gosling each day.
This is the best text I ever sent. It was sent to Tori after getting her gallbladder out.* **
*Actually, maybe it was an email.
** Ok it was definitely an email. Scratch that. I've never texted anything good.
Now, here is my dilemma, because Sean and I's courtship took place largely outside of the realm of text messages, I did not learn which emoji's are considered flirty, and which are considered platonic.
So, when I respond to my sisters' texts, and include a winky face, what I'm trying to say is "I'm being playfully sarcastic and bitchy right now." But I have no idea if what I'm actually saying is, "Hey girl. Hey."
For this reason, I recently took an opportunity to pool some young people about emoji innuendo. Basically, what they told me (after laughing soundly at my lack of even basic coolness) was, "Katie, you should be fine with the winky faces, but know this: there is no reason anyone should ever send an eggplant emoji."
Oh.
OHHHHHH. I get it.
So that's what the young kids are using eggplants for these days!? Well, personally, I think it's a little unfair that legions of hormonal teenagers have ruined the eggplant emoji for the rest of us. As someone who is new to texting, but seasoned in organic gardening, I want you to know that eggplants make GREAT VEGETABLE COMPANION PLANTS. Did you know that you can grow eggplants in your garden, and keep the aphids away from your tomatoes? That's right assholes, APHIDS LOVE THEM. Don't even get me started on eggplant parmesan, which is a great vegetarian dish for dinner parties, with only about half the prep time of a lasagna. You heard me. HALF THE TIME.
This cultural disconnect is why I feel the time is right for a new set of mom-friendly emoji's out there. I've created a few to get us started, but I'd like to appeal to the other moms reading this to keep the suggestions coming. Together, we will build up a new empire, and an emoji culture where eggplants are upheld, nay CELEBRATED, and also where mom-jean-shaming is given its proper recognition.
Here are the mom-friendly emoji's I have so far:
Mom jeans emoji- for when you suspect you might be wearing mom jeans, and feel like people are judging you for it.
Hipster Emoji- for when hipsters are also wearing mom jeans, and you suspect they aren't being judged for it, the assholes.
Eggplant Emoji-For when you are planning out your organic vegetable garden, and you want to text your sisters about companion planting eggplants and tomatoes.
Xylophone Emoji- For when your daughter is 3 months old and listens to exclusively xylophone music.
Hammer Emoji- To use in collaboration with the xylophone emoji, in order to express your true sentiments about the music being played in your house right now.
Paula Deen Emoji- For when you're emotionally exhausted, and need to cook some comfort food. Also can be used in conjunction with the eggplant emoji to indicate "Eggplant Parmesan."
Garth Brooks emoji- for when your baby is sleeping, and you are drinking gin and tonics and listening to early 90's country music, and you want to text your sisters about the all female country cover band you are starting, called, "Brooks and Hon."
Ryan Gosling Emoji- To be used as a replacement for the Eggplant Emoji, as it is used in its current form.
Millie has a birthday coming up. Some of you may remember my strong cupcake game from last year, which unfortunately has backfired, since Millie is expecting an elaborate theme again this year. Luckily, this weekend during Millie's nap, I had an amazing brain wave.
I bring you: "TOOTHLESS THE DRAGON AND HIS ASSOCIATED SHEEP."
For those of you who have never seen "How to train your dragon," it's a movie that all toddlers love. It's about a gangly teenage viking exploring his various career opportunities, and discovering that dragon training is his most marketable skill. The viking community where he lives has a weird thing for sheep, which are used in their strange, airborne version of viking Quiddich, which provides much comic relief to the movie and its sequel.
"Toothless" is the name of the coolest dragon of all, and he looks like this:
The best thing about making these cupcakes it that anyone can do it. I know some cute cupcake ideas require a certain level of expertise with frosting. These do not. The only thing you will need to do with frosting is to slather it vaguely in the direction of your cupcakes, and also squirt it from a ziplock bag directly into your mouth. Here is how you can get started:
Bake some cupcakes.
The first thing you should do, is bake some chocolate cupcakes. You can make these from scratch, or go out and buy a box mix. I don't care. In fact, if you choose to buy some mix from a box, I will swear to everyone that you made them from scratch, using sustainably harvested cocoa powder and agave nectar, because that's the kind of loyal, trustworthy internet friend I am.
Gather your materials.
While your cupcakes are baking and cooling, gather your materials for decorating.
You will need: 1. White frosting (you can make or buy this) 2. Food coloring (I use the "neon" colors, because the results are so bright!) 3.Oreos 4. Graham crackers 5. Mini-marshmallows 6. Chocolate chips (two sizes, normal, and "mini") 7. A few plastic sandwich or ziploc bags 8. (optional) A nail file to shape the cookies (buy a new one, don't use the one from your bathroom, nasties :)!)
Color the frosting:
Get three small ziploc or sandwich bags.
In the first bag, put two small drops of plain green (neon) food dye into the bag on top of the frosting. Squish the frosting inside the bag until the green is all mixed in (note: if you feel more comfortable, you can mix the dye in outside of the bag, I just do it this way because dishwashing is for suckers.) This color will be your light green.
In a second bag, repeat this process, but put an extra drop of blue dye in with the green. This will be your dark green.
In a third bag, scoop some plain white frosting.
In all three bags, snip the corner off of the ziplock bag. You've now created your professional cake decorating tools!
To make Toothless:
Start with a plain chocolate cupcake. I didn't put any icing on this, because the un-frosted cupcake looked "scalier" and it was also healthy (it's the agave nectar!) I pulled two halves of a normal oreo in half, scraped the frosting off the back with a nail file, and broke it in half to get started with the ears/horns.
Ok, so I know the nile file thing is weird. Someone had just given us a new "nail tending kit" for christmas, and since I"m about as likely to tend to my cuticles as the viking king, Stoic the Vast, I decided to put these tools to good use. For me, it really helped shave the cookies into exactly the shapes I wanted them.
Once the cupcakes cooled off a bit, the top became a little crusty, and it helped to cut slits int he top of the cupcake where the oreo bits would go.
I ate a massive amount of oreos in the creation of these cupcakes. I'm sure you will too, so take some of the shrapnel, and stick it in the top, to a make a ridge like the one Toothless has.
Start with he dark green, and make vaguely oval eyes. These do not have to perfectly smooth.
Haha! Look at those eyes. They look awful.
Next, put in a layer of the light green over top of the dark green. Make sure you leave a little of the dark green peeking out of the sides.
See! I told you that you don't have to be a professional cake decorator! So far, this cupcake looks terrible. Now comes the best part. Get two of the chocolate chips (the regular size, not the minis,) and stick them on.
Voila! All of the sudden, your cupcake looks 100% less shitty than it did! I found that making Toothless vaguely cross-eyed gave the most realistic/cutest effect.
To make the Sheep:
Slather white frosting all over a cupcake. At this point, you should probably also have some frosting for yourself.
Get a rectangular section of graham cracker. Round out the edges with the nail file.
Break some pieces of graham cracker and carve out some little ears. These can look bad-- don't sweat it.
Stick 3 marshmallows on each side, and 2 along the top, leaving space for the terrible little ears you made.
See, I told you the ears would look ok.
Using the bag of white frosting, make two large dots for the eyes.
And then add two smaller dots for the nostrils.
Yep. It's pretty simple.
For the finishing touch, add two mini chocolate chips for the eyes. Then, take a celebratory swig of frosting, because that sheep looks GOOD.
Are you feeling smug? I think you should be, because when your toddler wakes up from her nap, she is going to FREAK OUT.
I hope you enjoyed making these cupcakes, which will trick everyone into thinking you are the Michael Phelps of cupcake making. (Tip: do not let actual Michael Phelps near these cupcakes, he will eat them all.) I'm a pretty proud of them, but I'm also starting to get nervous about raising the bar for next year's birthday party. Luckily, that's a year away, and for now, I've got about three ziploc baggies of leftover frosting calling my name...
This blog post is a PSA for anybody who is considering visiting Oregon. DON'T GO THERE. CANCEL YOUR CONCERT TICKETS AND MARIJUANA DISPENSARY APPOINTMENTS. Turn around now while you can, because once you get to Oregon, every single thing you encounter will be so beautiful, you'll want to puke your puking face off.
Barf.
Last summer, Sean and I made a huge mistake and took Millie on a vacation to Oregon. Life has been really hard for us now that we've returned, because compared to that place, Ohio looks like the frozen ice planet of Hoth. Here's an overview of what we did. My only hope is that this blog post will serve as a deterrent to other reckless wanderers, whose eyeballs have been heretofore unassualted by the pristine beauty of that North Western Harlot, Oregon. A Primer:
For those of you who are unfamiliar with it, Oregon is a state/microbrewery along the pacific coast of the United States, just north of California. It is most famous as the destination of the computer game, Oregon Trail, and as the place where my sister, Kelly just moved.
Every single store in Oregon offers growler fills. As you can see, even this corporate shell station has succumbed to the state's powerful microbrewery lobby.
Things to See in Oregon
The Forest:
When you're visiting Oregon, it's important that you visit the forest. It's not important which one you choose, because each one of them, including the ones adjacent to highway rest-stations, look like something out of a Sierra club calendar, or the hit movie, Harry and the Hendersons.
I call this photo "Tree on the side of the Road." I can't decide if this forest is crawling with ancient tree shepherds, or with Sasquatches, but either way, I am obsessed with it.
The Campsites
Oregon is home to some of
the country's most beautiful rivers, all of which will be too popular to
find campsites along. You and your husband will drive from site to
site, for several hours until you are eventually driven up into
Oregon's high desert, at LaPine State Park-- Oregon's only unattractive
campground.
I peed in this river.
Campsite at Opal Creek
Campsite by Haystack Rock.
Errr..... Campsite at LaPine.
LaPine
state park was easily 1000 degrees during the day, and below freezing
at night. The only interesting wildlife we encountered there was a
colony of felonious ground squirrels, who would abscond with any
unattended food items lighter than a jar of JIF peanut butter. For this
reason, I recommend all visitors there eat exclusively Vienna sausages
and hanks of local bison during your stay at LaPine.
* Pro-Tip- Use your growler to weigh down your shampoo-- or those little shits will take that too.
The Coast:
Another "must see" on your visit to Oregon, is the coast. One advantage to visiting the coast with your family, is that immediately upon entering Oregon's coastal watershed, all tourists are immediately transformed into talented professional photographers. Here are a few photos from the Oregon coast, all of which look like they were captured by David Attenborough, but were actually taken on my cell phone-- and generally after I had been patronizing one of the coastal open fermentation microbreweries.
I call this shot "Maybe I should move to Oregon"
This one is called "Okay, I'm definitely moving to Oregon."
I call this one, "Sean and Millie exploring our new home, Oregon!"
I call this photo, "Kelly, I just looked up housing prices in Oregon, and I am furious with you."
The Pig-N-Ford
While you're on the coast, it's important to go to Tillamook county, home of the "Pig-n-Ford," our country's greatest sporting event. The "Pig-n-Ford" happens every year at the Tillamook county fair, and involves contestants sprinting to a pen full of live pigs, hand-cranking a Ford Model-T with a 20 pound swine in one hand, and holding it in their arms as they make laps around a dirt racetrack. Then, they repeat this process, because there are NO LIMITS TO THEIR COURAGE, OR THEIR GROWLERS FULL OF WHAT I'M ASSUMING IS MOONSHINE.
The most important video you'll ever watch.
The Cities:
After all that camping, you are probably going to want a shower, and a trendy brunch somewhere. I recommend any of Oregon's cities, as long as those cities do not contain any real estate agents. You are in a vulnerable emotional state, and real estate agents are to be avoided at all costs, unless you want to end up paying $700,000 for a 1200 square foot Arts and Crafts cottage with a backyard full of heirloom rhubarb and a xeriscaped front walk.
Per Oregon building code, all dwellings built after 2011 must prominently feature hop vines climbing up a pergola or trellis.
The Airport:
Eventually, you will run out of vacation leave and need to return home from Oregon. Remember to leave for the airport early in order to give yourself time to navigate the crowds of healthy, attractive, socially conscious travelers flying out of PDX.
I call this photo "Me weeping, as we leave Oregon."
A few travel tips:
Bring some extra cash so your husband can rush to buy a
sweatshirt from the Rouge Brewery at the other end of the concourse
before you board.
Don't fill your growler with local, Marion-berry cider before you go through security, TSA will not let you in the concourse.
If the person sitting next to you on the plane tells you she is a real estate agent from Portland, ask the stewardess to change seats.
If the person sitting next to you tells you they are a park ranger from LaPine State park, surreptitiously check their carry-on for stow-away ground squirrels.
If the person sitting next to you is the 2015 champion of the Tillamook County Pig-n-Ford, ask them for their autograph, and to be your child's godparent.
The Pictures:
When you return for Oregon, it's likely that your co-workers will want to know how your vacation was. What are you supposed to tell them? Oregon is a magical land, filled with organic hops and sea lions? That there is not a single mosquito, alive anywhere in Oregon? That your retinas are now forever etched with the majesty of those Sasquatch filled woods, and that from now on 75% of your "office time" will be spent looking at $500,000 bunglows on zillow?
No, you will lie. Lie and protect your innocent colleagues from the temptation that is Oregon. Or, if there is a particular co-worker you don't like-- someone you wouldn't mind seeing a 6 hour plane ride away---well I guess there is no harm in showing them just one picture.
Some of you (by which I mean, probably just my parents), may have noticed that I haven't been updating Sean and Katie's place much in 2015. There are two very good reason's for that. One is about 30 pounds, and knee high, and wants to be a flute player/dragon rider when she grows up. The other reason is a little sadder.
Some of you may remember the Spring of 2015, when I announced that I was pregnant, after failing to convince my neighbor Bill that I was going on a cleanse. Sadly, 4 1/2 months into this pregnancy, I went into early labor. Our second daughter, Adeline was born on June 2nd, and did not live. I debated whether or not to even mention this on Sean and Katie's place, because the tone of this blog is so playful, but I've decided that it's important for readers to know this about us, if you plan on following along in our lives. I've written extensively (mostly for myself in order to process grief) on a separate blog. To read about our Adeline, click here.
The health complications that followed for me have been shocking. For months after Adeline's death, I dealt with extreme blood loss. I had 3 surgeries, 4 blood transfusions, and went into something called "septic shock." (given it's name because it feels like you are being buried alive in an actual septic field.) On three separate occasions, I was in critical condition and on three separate occasions, Sean and I said our goodbyes to each other. And, if you think that last sentence sounds dramatic, wait until I tell you this. At one point, I was rushed in a helicopter to the ICU in downtown Cleveland by a life-flight Paramedic whose ACTUAL NAME was Alan Jackson. Then, a medical student stabbed an IV in my ACTUAL NECK, while I was still awake. It was crazy.
For all these reasons, as I reflect on 2015, I just have one message for this awful year, which is best expressed in picture format:
And then in break up letter format:
Hey 2015,
We need to talk. I've been thinking for a while now that this isn't going to work out. It's not me-- it's definitely you. I just can't keep living with this much DRAMA. Actually.... it's kind of awkward to talk about this, but I've recently been seeing someone new. His name is 2016. He's older, more mature, and has a better job than you. I think we're going to be really happy together.
See you around, Katie
And then is hashtag format:
#gofyourself2015
#AlanJackson
So cheers. Let's all raise our glasses to 2016. I hope this year is full of blessings, toddlers pretending to ride dragons, and women saying goodbye to abusive relationships with time-periods. As for me, I'll be sitting in my house, soaking up the good times with my family, and listening to Alan Jackson's "Chatahoochee."
I'm not scared of many things. Snakes? love em. Spiders? Adorable. Orcs? Elendil himself could not be less afraid than I. But ever since I found out I was having a daughter, I've been living in terror of Princess Culture.*
*for more information on exactly what to fear, go out and buy the book Cinderella Ate My Daughter immediately!
I was raised with a pretty bad-assed woman for a role-model. My mom is a black belt, a doctor, and is not afraid to straight up slaughter copperheads with a machete while wearing a lacy nightgown.* She literally gives no shits about what men think of her. That means me and my sisters learned to do all sorts of hard core things growing up. She taught us to build campfires fires in the rain, to saw our own lumber and to build our own goddamn tree-houses. Did we talk about princesses? Sure. She quickly confirmed that we were all three unique and special princesses, each of whom possessed *magical powers* which enabled us to beat boys at things like math tests, arm wrestling contests, et all. My mom is awesome.
*This may be a bit of an exaggeration. I cannot guarantee she was wearing a nightgown.
Anyways, I really want my daughter to have strong role models too. When she reads books, I want her heroines to do more than just marry a handsome prince. I want them to have guts, I want them to be kind, and I want them to be smart, empowered, and earn just as much in pay as their male co-workers do. Basically, I want my daughter to admire more than a poofy dress with giant shoulder pads.
So, while not being too extreme, I've tried to carefully avoid princess culture. If someone else refers to her as a "little princess," I don't make a big deal of it, but I never call her that myself. When I play with her, I try to say to her "you're so funny," "you're so smart," and "you're so kind," as well as "you're so beautiful."
That's why I was very surprised the other day, when Millie was in her bath-tub and she pointed straight down to her new washcloth and told me informatively, "That's a Princex."
What? I looked down hurriedly. She was right! The puffy sleeves were a dead give-away. The washcloth was a trick! It was the kind that comes up crinkled up into a tiny shape, and explodes when you put it in the water and turns into something awesome like a dinosaur, or ...DRAT... a princess.
The Princex
Trying to make the best of the situation, I encouraged her to think critically about the Princess. "How do you know she's a Princess?" I asked her. "I don't see a crown." I added desperately, "I think it's just some blonde lady."
She looked up at me with pity. "That's a princex." She said firmly. And then, to my horror she added, "I'm a Princex." My heart froze. No! Not my baby! She's too young. She's TOOO YOUNG!
But then she continued. "Mommy is a Princex." She paused carefully, and added... "Daddy is a Princex too!"
At that moment, a ray of warm light blew across the bathroom, and cast upon my poor, soapy brow. My Daddy is a Princex. YES. She's not succumbing to the premature over-sexualization of her body! She's not fast tracked to a life of romantic-conquest-based self esteem, and unrealistic beauty standards! She's just a baby, playing in a tub, and she's trying to learn about the word Princess.
One day, I'll have to battle these societal pressures, but I'm grateful today isn't that day. For now, I just fill my cup and rinse her hair, (I can't help but notice, with a sense of foreboding, that her hair really does look like newly spun gold) But for now, I give her a smile. "Of course," I tell her reassuringly. "Of course your Daddy is a Princex."
