New Beginnings

February 17, 2026

After a year of dating, by younger brother to his girlfriend Becky to Disneyland to celebrate. Unbeknownst to her, his Valentine's Day Disney trip was more than a fun romantic getaway-it was the scene for a very memorable proposal. Welcome to the family, Becky!

Evidence That My Status As "Good Mom" is Sometimes Suspect

February 19, 2010

Those of you who have (or have had) small children know there are times when we adults are subject to the mindless repetition of a child's favorite TV show or video. The irony is that sometimes we resort to videos to maintain sanity, but by the 101st time you've seen the same video, your own brain has turned to mush. Or you begin to entertain somewhat violent thoughts of punching a he-shall-remain-nameless purple dinosaur in the snout. Depends on the day.

Anyway, I did my time enduring Pokemon, Digimon, Blue's Clues (which was better when Steve was there--Joe was a sorry imposter), Teletubbies (beyond creepy, especially the Big Brother-like baby head that was the sun of their universe), Carebears, and Sailor Moon. There were also the movies that never seemed to lose their appeal to the little ones--Spirit, Brother Bear, Lilo and Stitch. Sadly, I am all too familiar with these films.

(Note, please, that I do not include such fare as Scooby Doo, Bugs Bunny, Finding Nemo, and Beauty and the Beast here. Watching these with the kids is not a hardship, but a pleasant, shared family-oriented experience. There are movies and shows that are designed to entertain the parents as well, and oh, how I appreciate those offerings!)

So, when Bree was about three, one of her fixations was Disney's The Fox and the Hound. Let me first say that I love Disney--most Disney. I'm a huge fan. There are very few Disney movies I can't get behind. The Fox and the Hound happens to be one of them. I'm not sure what it is, but we'll just call it the Dark Days of Disney. That movie is tedious at best, migraine-inducing painfulness at worst. I can't honestly say I ever cared if Tod and Copper overcame their natural differences and became friends again--their little cartoon lives held no interest for me whatsoever.

Bree used to just bring me the video case whenever she wanted to watch it, but eventually she started asking for it by name whenever the video case was mysteriously out of sight. (Yup--I hid it from her. Don't judge.) The first time I heard her ask for it, my jaw dropped. I didn't know what she was saying, but it sounded like something she needed her mouth washed out with soap for. "What did you say?" I asked her, incredulously. "Where did you hear that?"

"Fok!" she said. "Peas?" She's three at the time, remember.

"WHAT?"

"Fok! Fok!" She was getting frustrated with my inability to comprehend simple English. "Want Fok an' Hound!" (Try saying it outloud, quickly. Trust me, it's funny.)

"Oh!" I slapped my forehead and burst out laughing. This did not sit well with her, as she did not have time for me to have a hysterical breakdown. She had The Fox and the Hound on her agenda. "Say it again. What do you want to watch?"

"Fok an' Hound!"

"Which movie?"

"Fok an' Hound! Fok an' Hound!" (This time accompanied by a little hand on the hip and a stamping of the foot. What was the deal with her mama? She was usually much more perceptive than this!)

Finally I "found" the movie and popped it in the VHS player. All the amusement I got from hearing her say "Fok an' Hound" several times softened my irritation at having to sit through the dumb movie yet again. I just kept chuckling to myself, hearing her little voice saying something that was oh so innocent but that sounded so inappropriate.''

As soon as her dad got home for the day, I said, "Hey Sweetie--tell Daddy what your favorite movie is!" Daddy eyed me suspiciously. He already knew what it was.

"Fok an' Hound!" she said emphatically. Daddy, too, dissolved into laughter. Yep, we were mature like that. Let me tell you, Bree told a great number of people--the babysitter, our friends, her aunts--what her favorite movie was, because I told her to. It cracked me up. Every time. I found a way to find humor in an otherwise humorless and mind-numbing movie, and as long as she stayed enamored of that video, I didn't work very hard to teach her how to say her 'Xs' correctly. If she was going to keep watching it, I was going to keep the only good thing about it. Not the highlight of my "Good Mom" career, but you know, sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.

Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho

June 19, 2009

I'm taking a break from digging around in all remnants of childhood-toys-forgotten and chapter-books-we have-moved-beyond and clothes-that-fit-us-once-upon-a-time. Yes, my friends, we are gearing up for a big yard sale tomorrow. This is where I throw all of my junk out on the driveway in hopes that someone will find just exactly the thing they've been looking for for months among my discards.

I love yard sales. They remind me of my mother, actually. Not only did we host frequent yard sales, but it was great sport to go out treasure hunting on Saturday mornings. Some Saturdays it was all window shopping (more accurately, perhaps, sidewalk gazing). Other weekends we were giddy, sharing in the joy of the unbelievable find of the day. For several years, if nothing else was happening during the weekend, Mom would map out a route based on all the yard sale ads in the Friday paper. Anyone in the family who was up for it would pile in the van bright and early Saturday morning, and we made a day of it.

After most of my siblings had moved away, Mom still called me up every now and again to see if I wanted to join her on a Saturday outing. When my oldest was pretty little still, she loved to join us, and Grandma would spoil her with almost anything her heart desired. Once, when Brianna was about three, Mom, Bree, and I set out on one of our treasure hunts. These were the days when my daughter was completely in love with all things Disney. She was interested in all of the characters, but especially loved Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. She didn't always remember that they were called dwarfs, but she knew that they sang the "Heigh-Ho" song, so she just called them the Heigh-Hos. (I thought it was adorable, of course, so I never corrected her.)

On this particular yard sale kind of morning, Mom had mapped out a route that included an estate sale, because the ad said they were selling a huge collection of Disney memorabilia. We arrived along with a slew of other hopeful shoppers, and we were not disappointed. The entire driveway was covered with Mickeys and Minnies and Goofys and Plutos. Every Disney princess was represented. The owner was, indeed, a true aficionado, and Bree was in 7th heaven. She ran from pillow to figurine to lampshade emblazoned with the inhabitants of the world of Disney. Suddenly, she saw her very favorite characters. She gasped loudly and yelled at the top of her little lungs, "Mommy, I see the Heigh-Hos! I see the Heigh-Hos!!" She was doing a happy dance, tapping on her little tippy toes and clapping her hands together, pure joy on her face. Then, her eyes grew wide and she pointed again and shouted, loudly enough for everyone there to hear, "Mommy! I see the Heigh-Hos, and there's the Big Ho right next to them!!" Mom and I turned to look at the little figure of Snow White, towering above all of her seven Heigh Ho friends, and burst into laughter. We laughed so hard we had tears rolling down our faces, and everyone else who was within earshot was giggling right along with us. I had no way to explain to poor Bree what we were so hysterical about. We finally settled down until I leaned over to my mom and said, "She's right about the Big Ho thing you know. She was living with seven men!"