new merit badge

My June Cleaver merit badge may have gone out the window with my faulty canning skills, but I have just earned my Martha Stewart "outrageously magnificent costume" badge, which means I am SO over June Cleaver. I've decided that aside from her seemingly never-ending pursuit of perfection, Martha Stewart is my kind of lady -- there's no way June Cleaver ever made a grown man cry, so really we don't have a lot in common.

Behold, my kids' Halloween costumes in all their felt-covered, crafty glory!





Take special note of Aidan's lace-up shirt (did I painstakingly pound those eyelets into his shirt myself for the lace-up effect? you bet your sweet ass I did!) Those boots? ENTIRELY MADE OF FELT, people. I know, I know -- you're all wondering how I could possibly make boots from felt. I'll tell you this: the process involved a sewing machine, great tubes of felt, and a can of Pam stuffed into a pair of shoes.

And here's Wesley, the fabulous parrot sidekick to Aidan's pirate. Look at those colorful wings! His saucy little birdy tailfeathers! See his beak which (sort of) resembles a parrot beak... it's apparent that he's having a fabulous time in these pictures, and I am positive that it's entirely because of the level of craftsmanship his costume represents.

I know that these costumes fill me with a joy that simply can't be contained... that and the 10 fun-sized candy bars I just ate.

Happy Halloween! Making your own costumes? As my old pal Martha would say, "it's a good thing!"

next time let's leave the kids with jo

We went to Salt Lake over the weekend for my work, and I always seem to forget how ridiculously difficult it is to stay in hotels with young kids. You either let the kids stay up and tell them to be quiet every 10 minutes for the sake of the other hotel guests OR everybody climbs into bed at 8 o'clock. Or you can do what Mike did -- turn off the lights and lock yourself in the bathroom for 2 hours, just hoping the kids will fall asleep. That sounds fun, doesn't it?

3 going on 13

Me: Please Aidan, get your socks and pants so we can go see Aunt Jo.

Five minutes later...

Me: Aidan. Go get your socks and pants from your bedroom and I'll help you into them.

2 minutes later...

Me: Aidan, listen to me. Go get your pants so we can go. Do it now, please.

1 minute later...

Me: Okay, Aidan. I'm putting Wesley in the car and if you don't have your pants and socks ready for me when I come back, I'm going to do it for you and put you in the car.

Aidan: FINE, mom!

(I put Wesley in the car, turn around to see Aidan holding his pants and socks. Hallelujah.)

Aidan: I am so embarrassed!

Me: Huh?

Aidan: This is embarrassing, mom! I am freaking out!

will pay for hair

Um... so I'm getting hair extensions, I guess. I was more excited about it until I just googled it and started reading all these freaky horror stories about going bald or looking stupid. So I'm just going to cross my fingers and trust that neither of those things will happen to me, and that I will end up looking much more like a Victoria's Secret model than the first cast-off from "Making the Band 11: ABBA covers"

Of course, I will keep you updated as I make this journey into exciting and new hair arenas -- in fact, blogging about it somehow justifies the experience in my mind. I'm working the hair beat, just doing a bit of investigative reporting for the betterment of ALL mankind. All of them. Even the ones who already have lots of hair.

aidan hearts gourds

I bought Aidan a mini pumpkin today. To the uninitiated, this may not seem like an important or blog-worthy happening, but that's because you are blissfully unaware of my three year old's special brand of what I affectionately like to refer to as "the crazies." I wasn't even sure I was going to get him one after last year's pumpkin worshipry (is it a word? it sure is now!)

Last year before Wesley was born, we went to the pumpkin patch as a family. I was feeling 14 months pregnant, swollen, tired, and about 60 pounds heavier than a bull moose. This was actually the day that I had 8 hours of "false labor" contractions that sent me to the hospital after midnight only to be sent back with a percocet and the addition of a L&D nurse to my shit-list: "Sorry hon -- those are definitely registering as very strong contractions, but they're just not doing anything to your cervix. Your baby has a HUGE head though!" (Gee, thanks! Can't wait to push it out! I hope you have a nice night, too!)

ANYWAY. We were at this pumpkin patch, it was cold, slightly soggy, and Aidan kept tripping and falling all over himself... and he's not a fan of getting dirty.

"Oh! OH! I am so dirty!"

I kept picking him up, dusting him off, and following him around while he went from pumpkin to pumpkin. And then, after Mike and I had finally grown weary of the pumpkin patch and had "helped" Aidan make a decision, it happened. Aidan fell in love... with his very own mini pumpkin.

The pumpkin took baths with Aidan. It ate dinner with Aidan. It slept next to Aidan at night... and one night in December when it finally began to get a bit soggy around its edges, it myseriously disappeared. We were all quite torn up about it.

Flash back to today's trip to the grocery store where I grew so desperate for Aidan to behave that I bribed him with another pumpkin. Will we have a repeat of last year's pumpkin love? Only time will tell. But if it makes him behave when we're out running errands, I will buy him a whole pumpkin patch. I'll knit outfits for his pumpkins. I'll sing them songs and kiss them goodnight. Whatever it takes, right? That's the kind of grade A, June Cleaver-esque mom I am.

antonio, my spanish lover

Is there any better way to end a crazy day than a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon? I'll tell you, TWO glasses. And a heaping dose of honesty: I actually had four glasses.

Speaking of heaping doses of honesty, here's one: I am not superwoman. (Gasp!) Ever since moving to Idaho, my business has exploded to the point that I'm waving the white flag. For sure I'm excited that people are treating me and the jewelry like the best thing since potato rolls (hardy har, did you get that? Idaho joke, people -- get with the times) but I am seriously to the point that I am going to have to hire someone to help me with some boring office busy work. Like mailing my show invitations. And filing. And... cleaning my house. And watching my kids. And putting on an "Anna" suit to fill in for my life while I slink off to some sexy white sands beach to drink fabulous drinks with half-naked male models. Screw that -- fully naked male models. This is my fantasy, after all.

ANYWAY, sorry for my negligence in the blogging arena. If you want the assistant job, feel free to give me a jingle. I'm sure that with some help I'll have plenty of time to blog while I'm on the beach with Antonio and Paolo, my spanish lovers. PLENTY of time...

(Hello? Hello? Are you there readers? It's me, Margaret.)

discussing Aidan's underpants

Mike: I think I should start wearing underwear with little dinosaurs on them, too.

Anna: Umm.. why?

Mike: Because it tells the viewer that there's a giant volatile lizard inside.

Anna: WHAT? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard... volatile how??

Mike: You never know when it's going to strike.