Why the Braun's avoid boomers like the plague

Last weekend Aaron and I had the genius idea of taking the kids miniature golfing because nothing says love like miniature golf, that and we enjoy torturing ourselves.

Jake, being the highly competitive kid that he is, decided to get a hole in one, and then another one, and then just to really rub it in, one last hole in one. For an instant I was sure that Andrew might completely lose it and start going king Kong style right there at the kid friendly amusement land of family spending. I thought for sure he would start swinging his golf club around while banging his fists against his chest and topple the entire fake wooden city that is shabbily constructed on hole 6. That's how intense the laser beams of anger that he was aiming at Jacob were.

I had a flashback of 8 year old me at the bowling alley with my sister. My sister always consistently kicked my ass at bolwing. She managed to effortlessly and elegantly throw strikes. I always awkwardly rolled my ball toward the gutter. The only way I avoided the gutter was to completely humiliate myself by doing the granny roll between my legs with my butt in the air. Michelle had this obnoxious taunting dance she would do after each strike that involved a hip wiggle and a little hand jive. It took every ounce of will power for me not to chuck the ball at her freckled face. Oh, sibling rivalry how I miss thee.



My sister was always better at everything then me, she made the pom pom squad when I was unable to do even a cartwheel, she got a 4.0 in high school, she was 1st
singles on the tennis team while I was 3rd and lets not even discuss her massive boobs that developed in junior high while I resembled a little boy. I so understand Andrew's agony and was quietly hoping he would make a comeback that involved his own long drawn out victory dance. That comeback never came. As a result instead of experiencing the boomers commercial of smiles and giggles ours was a wretched, angry, and whiny round of miniature golf.



Aside from the hole in ones, miniature golf proved to be extremely frustrating for Amelia. In fact, Amelia lost it completely after Andrew's ball dared to knock hers out of position. Oh the agony! Her reaction was monumental. She didn't throw a simple fit, oh no, this was a spectacle full of sobs and those little gasp of air that people do when they are really upset. To make it even that more memorable, she did a little face dive onto the synthetic green stuff while kicking and banging her fists. It was quite the magnificent display.

Being the inappropriate parents that we sometimes are, and knowing that really there is no use in getting all uptight in these situations, Aaron and I laughed so hard that we had tears rolling down our cheeks. We were paralyzed with laughter for a good five minutes while the nice woman with her well behaved kid waited patiently for us to move on, their mouths gaping open, in utter astonishment at the circus that is our family.

Amelias little fits of outrage continued for the rest of our miserable game. I am certain that the story of our family's miniature golf experience will be retold during the thanksgiving dinner of the poor woman and her well mannered kid stuck behind us.


On the car ride home, Jake, after going on and on about how awesome he is at golf asked if we could come again in two weeks for his birthday. I don't think there is enough valium in the world for me to go through another boomers trip.

The Bully

This year Andrew is in a combined class with third and fouth graders. I was under the impression that it would be really great for him. I thought that he could be competitive with some older kids while at the same time soak in some of their lessons. Little did I know that the fourth grade class would have a kid with the personality of Gargamel (the evil villain from the smurfs whose goal in life is to destroy them!).

He takes immense pleasure out of making Andrew's life as miserable as possible. I have actually witnessed it first hand and it took all of my will power not to revert to a ten year old and call him poo head. He makes fun of Andrew's voice, the way he eats his lunch, how he plays sports, the cartoons he watches, his book reports, and lots of other random ridiculous things. It has gotten so bad that Andrew doesn't even want to go to school. He panics every morning before we go to school and pleads with me over the most mundane things

"Mom, don't put salad in my lunch, Paul will make fun of me!", "Paul says that I don't know how to talk and that I sound like a baby!", "Paul is going to make fun of the book I read for my book report!"

I wouldn't be surprised if bully kid mocked Andrew's intake of oxygen. The kid is ruthless!

For the longest time I had no idea who bully kid was. I had never seen him. Finally last week I got to put the name with the face. I was shocked! He wears his shorts hiked up to his belly button and he is tiny. He is probably about the size of Jacob only a ton skinnier. Not only that but his face resembles a rat. I am not just saying that because he makes fun of my kid, he really does have a rat face. Regardless of what he says about Andrew if I saw him on the street and had no clue who he was I would think to myself "that kid would play a great rat in some theatrical production." When I pictured the bully I envisioned a big kid perhaps a freak of nature who was growing a mustache at age 9 not one that resembled Martin short .

After seeing the kid I wanted to tell Andrew to suck it up your bully is a dork. Even though there is a huge part of me that wishes my kid would hurl back some insults, clearly there is a ton he could say; I know that he should not stoop to that level. Instead I have encouraged Andrew to ignore him, to act as if he could care less about what this kid thinks about him and above all be nice to him. Chances are that bully kid has a miserable life. Someone must be really hurtful to him if he needs to take it out on Andrew. I explained to Andrew that Kids who are mean need the most love of all because there is always a reason for their meanness. I am hoping that this little road block in Andrew's life will help grow him as an even stronger little person. I hate seeing his self esteem so bruised by another kid. Maybe in the future when something similar happens to Jacob or Amelia I will be more prepared and better equipped to manage.

Martin Short:

Dear Amelia,

Last week you turned three. When I woke you up on your birthday and whispered in your ear "Happy birthday", you immediately wanted to know where your cake was and when you friends where coming over. Also you told me that you were a bumblebee. "Today is my birthday and I am a bumblebee". Apparently you have gotten your birthday confused with Halloween, because on Halloween you will be a bee.

For me it is hard to believe that you have only been a part of our lives for three short years. It seems as if you have always been here with your wide open smile and chubby hands. At my ultra sound when the technician announced that you were a girl I was uncertain how I would manage after all the dirt, toy cars, and star wars toys I had been surrounded by during the pervious 4 years. "Is it really a girl?" I asked skeptically.

You have developed into the most perfect balance of tom boy and girly girly I have yet to encounter. You are drawn to pretty things and baby dolls but prefer princess Leia to any of the Disney princesses. You choose Thomas the train over strawberry shortcake, and would rather pour tea for the boy's plush yoda and pokemon toys over your own pink and purple stuffed bears. I adore that about you. I have yet to meet another person so intent on being adored. You don't just expect the adoration of those around you, you demand it. After I help you get dressed in the morning you pull at the legs of your brother's pants and shout " look at my dress, look at my shoes, isn't my hair pretty?" They know better then to disagree.

I think your brothers adore you most of all. The other day you ran into the edge of the table and your lip bleed a little. Your brothers went into panic mode. They were much more upset over the whole incident then you were. Jacob was a basket case, he actually cried because he thought you were severely injured. Andrew hugged you so tight I was afraid he might squeeze the very life out of you. It took much convincing for the boys to take my word for it that we did not need to take you to the hospital.

Lately you have been very extreme in all that you do. There is no middle emotion when it comes to you. You are either overjoyed or in the pits of utter despair. When you sing you don't just sing you belt out your words at almost a shriek and shake your little booty will moving your fists. It's quite a spectacle. I am afraid that you may have my rhythm. You will shout "LET"S SING THE ABC"S!!!" I may be losing a portion of my hearing due to all your enthusiasm. When you first wake up in the morning, you waddle down to the kitchen and shout "I am awake!" while throwing your arms up in the air as if you had just returned from the longest journey of your very short life. A few weeks ago I brought you home a plastic play kitchen. Your reaction was so intense that one would think It was solid gold and lined with diamonds. You obsessively play with it everyday and greet it as if it is a member of the family. For awhile you were calling your kitchen your birthday. You would grab me by the wrist and say "mom, let's go play with my birthday." I think there is still much confusion over what exactly a birthday is.

As we head into the three's with you I hope you remain the little firecracker that you have always been. I am expecting you to keep it interesting. I am looking forward to more adventures, more loud rendentions of Old McDonald, and baking hundreds of imaginary cookies on your pretend kitchen. I couldn't be more happy or proud to have you as a daughter. I love you!

Love,

Mom

The perks of parenting

It has been particularly insane around the Braun house for the last three weeks. I am still adjusting to the kids being back at school. It feels like I barely have a moment to myself. Andrew's dose of daily homework borders on child labor and trying to get Jake to sit down to complete a simple workbook page that he could do with his eyes closed is like pulling the tooth of a rabid giraffe. He does a lot of flailing around followed by heavy dramatic sighs about the injustice of being 6 years old. All the while Andrew sits Zen like at the kitchen table finishing his hundredth math problem.




In the last few weeks I have learned the necessity of adding art to everything school related for Jake. As long as I pull out the markers and say "let's draw a picture about this" he's into it. The art thing has actually worked wonders on his spelling ability. Last week it took him 4 days to learn his spelling words. This week it was only 2 days with the help of some crayon decorated flash cards. If only I knew this during the first two crucial weeks of school when I thought I might lose my mind entirely.




Apparently my kids are artistic, or so I was told at parent's night. I just about craped rainbows when Mr. Ash commented on how artistic Andrew and Jacob are. The joy that comment brought me borderd on insanity. It almost made up for the 15 minute humiliating public conversation about Jake's incessant thumb sucking and his odd habit of hiding under his desk when he doesn't feel like doing something. Due to a severe case of immaturity I almost laughed out loud at the very image of Jake hiding under his tiny desk thinking no one would notice a 40lb kid under there. A genius he is not. The only comment I could come up with was:

"wow…..our kid is weird."

I thought Aaron was also going to hide under a desk; that's how embarrassed he was. Later he told me to self edit. Note to self: when told your kid psychotically hides under desks come up with something more eloquent to say then "wow, weird!" I have a terrible habit of saying everything I think immediately without considering how dumb it sounds at the moment. Perhaps I have a mild case of Tourettes minus the swear words and mean comments (unless I have some booze in me). My brother's best friend growing up had tourettes and on a daily basis he called me Granny gray head fuckface until finally they medicated him and he decided to call me tinsel teeth instead. I actually preferred granny gray head fuckface because at least that had some originality.


Anyway, when we got home we spent a good half an hour discussing appropriate and inappropriate behavior with Jake and consequences along with drawing a list of family rules (because he is a visual kid). So hopefully the weird desk thing is behind us. I am sure he will pull some eqaully hysterical new stunts though. My kids sure do keep it interesting. I have a feeling this school year is going to have a lot of ups and downs.

Adventures in Braunland

We arrived home Sunday night from our annual family vacation. Our trips always involve camping because we are the kind of people that don't mind getting stinky.

The worst part about camping road trips is that when you get home there is no throwing yourself down on the coach to take in the greatness of your home, nor is there the automatic pleasure of viewing all 4 of the big brother episodes you missed. There are no refreshing immediate showers. Instead you are forced to unpack the contents of your car and clean out all the empty cups in the backseat, crumpled up food wrappers, and start on the truckful of dirty laundry.

Even with the filthy aftermath of the trip it's worth it. There is nothing I love more then road trips. We get to stop at kitschy little spots and visit towns and cities that normally we never would. It's like a fun little glimpse into other people's lives.

The thing I love most of all about road trip are the books we read. The kids got to hear charlottes' web and we also read the life of Andrew Jackson. I finished a tree grows in Brooklyn and David Sedaris, me talk pretty one day. There is nothing better then books and the open road.



On day two of our trip, Aaron announced that all of our lives are increasingly more and more exciting due to the spontaneousness of him. I got a great big long chuckle out of that one. He went into a 30 minute rant about how incredibly spontaneous he is. All of this was said we'll he peered at a map planning out the quickest and safest way to the nearest grocery store to pick up some mustard for the 2nd out of four of our preplanned camping meals. All the while he had our trip itinerary folded up neatly in his back pocket. Oh he is so spontaneous! I mentioned that perhaps I was the spontaneous one and so began the first of many arguments that occur when trapped in a vehicle with 4 other people.


However, I will say that the 6 ½ hour hike we went on the morning after arriving at big basin national park was pretty spontaneous. The kids and I thought that we were taking a leisurely hike to some nearby waterfalls. Aaron was well aware that it would be a lonnnnnnnnnng hike. I should have been clued into this when I saw him filling up our backpack with about 8 bottles of water. I was under the impression that he was being overly cautious, making sure we had enough water in the rare case we got lost in the forest. That's the Aaron I know and love. The one that packs matches, band aids, and toilet paper in our back packs just in case not the spontanoues one who leads us on a 6 1/2 hour outing in the great outdoors.


For the first couple of hours of hiking things went smoothly. The boys pretended they were warriors off to save their kingdom from the forest people. When that got old we looked for fairy and troll houses at the foot of redwood trees. I am almost certain that Jacob really believes in forest fairies and trolls because he took the game much more seriously then the rest of us.

The novelty of these games soon wore out. By the third hour Jake would periodically announce in his oh so dramatic way "I think I might die." Or "my leg is going to fall off!" also every ten minutes or so he would collapse to the ground and roll himself up into a little ball while stating very seriously that he just could not go on.

I managed to curb some of the whining by convincing the boys that grizzly bears are attracted to sound of whining because it's a similar sound that their baby cubs make (little did I know that I would be paying for my bear reference days later)


Amelia was the toughest in the pack. She would run down the trail and point out butterflies while singing her rendition of the wheels on the bus, the ABC's, and old McDonald. We rarely carried her. Mostly she wanted to walk. I think she had a ton of fun and I am really impressed at her ability to behave like the energizer bunny.

Andrew did a lot of complaining and belly aching but got over it when I told him he could be the leader of the Braun army. He loves power! In the end we survived and made our way safely back to our campsite. The kids fell asleep at 8 immediately after they got into there sleeping bags.


On the last night of our camping trip Andrew woke up in the middle of the night convinced that there was a bear outside his tent getting ready to eat him. I have to admit that I was slightly terrified, especially when I could not find our flash light and had to stumble around in the dark to try to soothe him. I think that at times I have similar fears as a child so it's almost riducoulus that I am in charge of three little people who need me when they are frightened. I managed to calm him down by convincing him that bears cannot open zippers to get inside tents. He soon fell asleep but I stayed up long after convinced that every little noise was a bear.

Just plain gross

I would like to preface this journal entry by saying that I am not one of those annoying girly girly types. I am actually pretty tough. I don't mind getting dirty and I can kill spiders on my own. As a matter of fact I am pretty laid back about most of the stuff god throws at me except in the presence of birds. Even then I don't mind the little birds it's the big ones, like those crazy colorful parrots that people parade around on their shoulders, or filthy crows, pigeons, and sea gulls. I don't mind song birds much as long as they aren't flying anywhere near the vacinity of my head. What I am getting at is that I am chill, mostly.



Today I wasn't so chill. It all started at the mall. I was walking up one of those ramps to get to the top level of the mall when I heard the two dudes behind me snickering. One of them, said, in his oh so California way,

"Dude we should tell her." Snicker, snicker.

I knew they were talking about me. They had to be; who else could they possibly be snickering about. For an instant I paniced remembering my recent trip to the Nordstrom bathroom. My first thought was that I had tucked my dress into my underwear (which by the way are my ugliest pair of granny panties., floral print and oversized0.) I actually did that once during my senior year in high school. I walked all the way to my English class with one of my long hippie skirts tucked into my underwear before Katie Harken whispered

"Your butt is hanging out!"

Anyway, I causally did a butt check and thank god my dress was in tact. I brushed them off convincing myself that I was paranoid. Clearly they were not snickering at me.


Near the food court Jake kept hounding me for food

"I am hungry, so hungry!" he kept saying, not so casually hinting that he wanted some greasy mall food.

I gave in making one last pit stop before heading to the parking garage. We stopped at la salsa. That's where it all went down. While sitting outside patiently waiting for our grub I decided that my hair was in a way too sloppy bun. I took my rubber band out and ran my fingers through my hair to sweep it neatly back into a pony tail. That's when I felt it. It was some sort of lump.

"What the heck is that?" I thought to myself.

I ran my fingers through my hair a second time and felt "it" again. It was big! I was certain it had legs!

Oh. My. god. I began to panic.

"Jake is there a bug in my hair?" I shrieked in his direction. "Jake look at my hair!"

By that time the people at the table nextdoor were gawking. Jacob didn't move. He looked terrified!

"Jake!" I pleaded.

There was a look of sheer horror on his face.

"Get it out!" I hissed.

By the size of his pupils I realized that we were not dealing with your everyday, run of the mill bug! I turned to the table of teenage girls next to me. As casually as my situation permited me to be, I said,

"I think there is a humongous bug in my hair. Is there a humongous bug in my hair? If there is don't tell me because I think I might start screaming. Will one of you take it out? Please! Please!"

By that point I was begging and on the verge of tears, or a frantic break down that involved ripping out my hair, stripping, and finding the nearest fountain to bathe in. All I could think about was that there was no way in hell that I was touching anything that big thaht has decided to take up residency in my hair. One of the girls got up to look at my hair.

"Holy shit." She said "I'm going to need some napkins"

That was not what I wanted to hear.

"Do not tell me how big it is or what it is, until it is out because I think I am going to totally freak out!"

She grabbed a handful of napkins and pulled it out quickly and effortlessly. I mumbled something about her beng my hero and then asked

"What was it?".

"Some weird looking green beetle with wings. That thing was huge!"

Then it came back to me, the flying beetle on the 2nd floor near Arden b that Jake was mesmerized by. It was flying near us and then oddly disappeared, apparently into my hair. It had been in my hair for a good 15 minutes. Never again will I wear a bun for fear that another one will try to make a home in my hair. I will now have to add flying beetles to my list of phobias! Gross! Why does everything about my life have to be so hilarious?!

On strike

Amelia is on a napping strike. It started last week and has trickled into this week. Multiple times a day she will tell me

"no nap."

She is obsessed with having fun. I desperately need my down time especially in a house of four little people under the age of 8. I need her to nap like a frat house needs its beer bong. Naps are like crack. I neeeeeed them! It's when I get things done or when I get nothing at all done and sit on ass peacefully! For one whole hour, sometimes two, I get to relax for a moment uninterrupted from the dramatic pleas of two year olds. I love naps. Lehlahni, the little girl I baby-sit for almost always conks out for a nap without a problem as long as she has her two blankets and a pacifier. Amelia is much more challenging. She needs her pillow situated just so and her pink blanket not her purple one, and while I am at it her music box on, and her dog stuffed animal not her doll. While demanding all of these nap time essentials she looks at me like there is something seriously wrong with me. Like how could I have not known that today of all days she must have her black stuffed dog with the red collar. How stupid must I be for thinking her doll would suffice when clearly today she needs her dog! After all of that preparation she makes her way down stairs not 5 minutes after I have turned off her bedroom light. Casually she will say

"hey mom." She always has a cute little innocent smile on, along with that adorable bed tousled hair and will try to charm me with one of her toys by saying "I share with you."

She is one charming little manipulator. When I force her back up to her room there is always a big protest and crocodile tears.


After these little episodes she will take a fake nap for half an hour-45 minutes tops. Afterwards she has a severe case of the grouch. By the time 5 o'clock rolls around she is foaming at the mouth and has sprung a second head. Amelia is not cute without a nap. As result of the nap protest she lost it at the dinner table last night when I handed her a piece of bread instead of salad.

"Salad! Salad! I want salad, Saaaallllllllllllllaaaadddddddddd!!"

Our daughter is a psychopath. After the salad incident there was the shoe one, where I dared to put her shoes on her feet instead of allowing her to do it. Clearly that was the wrong thing to do.

Without her naps the girl is a wreck. At this rate she will be a frightening teen. When I envision my kids as teenagers I break out in a cold sweat. I was the most atrocious punk of a teen. I worry that I will be paid back in full with Amelia. She is two and already my teen years are looking good. I am in for it.