Yes, I’d read the book (and subsequently sobbed my way through the ending mind you).  I’d also seen the previews.  And of course there was the fact that adorable little Abigail Breslin played a starring role; I loved her so much in Little Miss Sunshine that I was excited to see her on screen again.  All of these things were among my reasons for wanting to take my own girls to this movie.

But I have a confession: I had ulterior motives.

I don’t have a sister myself, though I’ve frequently found myself wishing I did.  If you only knew how many times I’ve coveted those sister relationships, when I hear about them through the grateful mouths of my girlfriends.  When I was younger, stories of secrets kept and jeans shared and late night alibis given to questioning parents always made me jealous.  And as the years have changed us, those tales have turned from girlhood frivolities to meaningful bonds: sisters who stand as Maids of Honor in each others weddings and later go on to share in the pushing and panting of childbirth experiences.  They meet for happy hours and sit on the phone each night spilling the day’s exhausting frustrations and tiny triumphs.  And then of course they also trudge through ugly things like divorce and breast cancer and the loss of a parent.

Who wouldn’t want a sister of her own?

My girls are lucky ones.  They each have not one, but two.  Two sisters!

Unfortunately their sisterhood doesn’t always resemble the dreamy tales of the sisters I’ve heard tell.

My girls bicker.  And fight.  They’ve even scratched a time or six.

I admit that I took them to this movie to show them a different side of sisterhood.  A side that I pray they never know firsthand: the loss of each other.

My mom had a sister.  She died well before her time.  Well before any of us were ready to let her go.

In the years since then my mom has told my girls stories of how she used to force her sister to eat pancakes as a form of cruel and unusual punishment.  She always ends the story, though, by saying how much she wished she had her sister, still.

I (thankfully) don’t have any stories like that.

I wish my mom didn’t either.

And I pray that my girls never will.

So yes.  I took them to this movie because I wanted it to paint a picture for them.  I wanted to trick them into seeing just how valuable they are.  Not only to me, but to each other.

Because pain in the butt or not – there’s nothing quite like having a sister.

Or so I’m told.

His kickers are super splashy.

His bubbles are just right.

And when he goes under he closes his eyes and puckers up like a camel.

On the first day of swim class he moseyed to the side of the pool like it was nobody’s business.

Since then, he’s grown timid.

It might have a little something to do with a girl in his Flounder group who screamed like a banshee throughout the entire first class.

Then again it may be karma.  Because I privately gloated that he wasn’t the one screaming like a banshee throughout the entire first class.

A few classes in I had to carry him to the edge of the pool.

And coax him in.

A few classes later he downright refused.  But I made him anyway.  And then he screamed like a banshee throughout the entire class.

I don’t know what changed.

Clearly something did though.

It’s not the water that gets him.  He motorboats and tosses rings with the best of ‘em.

It’s the getting his feet wet.

Maybe that’s the hardest part of learning to swim.

Or learning to do anything really.

Can’t say I blame him.

I can’t swim myself.

And I’m 31.

He’s 2.

He’s learning to swim.

Maybe someday he’ll teach me.

They do more than make me feel old actually.

The fact that I say them is enough to qualify me.

Not five minutes ago, these very words came out of my mouth: “I’m not running a diner here.”

I said it response to Kennedy when she asked if her and her overnight guest could have ice cream.  At nearly 10:00.  As in PM.  I mean, I don’t know about your house, but around here the kitchen is absolutely closed at 9.  Period.

And earlier today I swear I heard myself telling Cassidy something to the effect of, “that’s what happens when you make bad behavioral choices.”

That one didn’t make me sound old so much as just really geeky.

And it’s not just the things I say.  That which I do is also proof.

I’ve taken to shaking my head in disapproval when I see kids on roller skate shoes in the stores.  Or with saggy pants.  Or two-toned hair.

Those freaky piercings in which they insert random wooden hexagons or screws or whatever the heck they are thoroughly disgust me.  As do skinny jeans on otherwise respectable young men.

I refer to the majority of Torri’s iPod playlist as noise (with the obvious exception of her Disney selections, which I highly approve).  And I honestly can’t remember the last time I even casually flipped to MTV.

The other day Jeff was telling Torri that I liked the book she’d recommended so much that I’d kept him up really late because I wouldn’t turn the lights off until I’d finished just one more chapter.

How late? She hedged.

Like, 11:30.

11:30?  Wow.  Move over Farrah and Michael, we’re talking newsworthy here.

See what I mean?  Old.

And I used to be so cool.

Next thing you know I’ll be griping about the bus-stop kids walking through the yard.

Or better yet.  Talking Jeff into hiding one of those little zapper do-dads at the perimeter so they get a little juice pumped into ‘em if they opt for the shortcut.

Yeah.  It’s official.

Send Depends.

The t-shirts Jeff and I make are but one aspect of our pre-trip hype.  That’s not to say that they’re a small part – no siree.  We spend months on those things, constantly trying to outdo ourselves.  Because we’re sick like that.

We’re in the final stretch of this year’s shirt design process even as I speak type.  Would you like to see a sneak peak at what we’ve come up with?

Yes?

I knew you would.

But you’re not going to see them here.

Not yet at least.

But if you tune in to Disney with Darcie (just click that cute little button over there in my right margin) tonight (June 30th) at 8 PM Eastern (that’s 5 for us Californians and Arizonans and various other state-ans) you’ll get a lookie lou.

Not only that but I’m also going to dish on the other ways we add anticipation and pixie power to our trips long before we even print out our Southwest boarding passes.

I hope you’ll join us.

I was so blessed to see a bunch of familiar faces screen names chatting away during last week’s show.  We had a blast dishing Disney together.

So come.  Watch.  Be a part of the conversation.

You’ll be glad you did.  But even if not, I will. :)

See you soon.

Well.  You’ll see me.

But I’ll know you’re there.

And that will make me all warm and fuzzy.

I’m rambling aren’t I?

Okay.  I’ll shut up.

Just join me.  Kay?

I have no excuse.

But the girls?  They have returned.

With a vengeance.

Cassidy was home for just over 24 hours before she left me itching to crawl under a rock.  Any rock really.

It happened when a couple (first time grandparents-to-be) came by to look at the Pack’n'Play we’d listed on Craigslist.  This couple was typical in almost every possible way.  The only thing that, perhaps, set them apart was the girth of grandpa to be.

He was on the large side.  And Cassidy, the observant little thing she is, noticed.

I was so busy demonstrating the set up of aforementioned Pack’n'Play that I barely heard when Cassidy asked the grandpa 2 be (G2B) whether or not he had a baby bump.

My ears, though, did perk up when I heard his response, “no sweetie, I’m just fat.”

I looked up from my assembling hands to see Cassidy, perched next to G2B on the couch, rubbing his belly as though a genie was sure to appear at any moment.

“Oh,” she replied, “you like to eat?”

Oh. Em. Gee.  No she did not just say that.

Deep breaths.

I would very much like to have shoved Cassidy face first into a nearby plush ottoman but I thought better of it considering the potential for a CPS call.  You know.  You never can tell with those Craigslist peeps.

Jeff, meanwhile, was at the grill, obliviously working on his second beer of the evening.

So he didn’t get to witness Jayce (imitating his big sis) rubbing G2B’s impressive gut and mimicking Cass in a repetitive, “you like to eat? you like to eat? you like to eat?” chatter.

Seriously.

And here I thought I missed her.

C’mon.  Ask me why.

Fine I’ll tell you.

I’m hosting a show.  A live one.  That you can watch on Mom TV.  And not just today either.  My new show will run weekly.  Every Tuesday at 8 Eastern.

Cool huh?

You’re wondering what my show’s topic is.

I’ll give you a clue.  It’s a subject that’s near and dear to my heart.

No.  It has nothing to do with Wine.  Sheesh.

Okay.  Another clue.  It’s something that is mentioned daily in our house.

Sigh.  No.  It has absolutely nothing to do with wiping anyone’s butt.  (Although you’re right about that being a daily occurrence in our house).

Okay, okay.  Enough with the useless clues.

My new show is about all things {squeal} DISNEY!

My show?  Disney with Darcie.  I know.  Catchy right?

If you know me IRL you know that this is perfect for me since I obsessively slip Disney travel into general conversation on a regular basis.

Now I have a forum for my borderline freakish obsession.

And I hope you’ll check it out.

Just click your way over to the Disney with Darcie show.  But wait until 8ET.  Cuz’ if you go before then it might be kinda lonely over there.

Big ideas are in the works.  Over the next few months/weeks I plan to touch on tons of topics that are of interest not only to Disneyphiles like myself, but also to moms (and dads!) planning a first-time trip.  Or maybe a second.  Whatever.  My point is that you’re gonna love it.

At least I hope so.

But to just to be sure…leave me a comment letting me know which topics would be of interest to you.

See you there. ;)

Everyone knows you can’t take a trip to San Antonio without going out for Mexican and margaritas right? Right. Here’s the thing though – my friend, Kelly, well, she’s a tad on the picky side when it comes to food. And by picky I mean that she doesn’t eat anything green, spicy, stringy, chewy, mushy, crunchy, sweet, savory, meaty, tangy, raw, overcooked, or canned. Okay, okay. I’m just kidding. Kind of. ;) But, really, Kelly is definitely the choosiest eater I’ve ever met. So when she conceded to going out to a Mexican restaurant during our stay, I knew I owed her one. They took us to a local hot spot, Los Barrios, where I may or may not have indulged in a margarita or six.

The next morning Kelly treated us to a breakfast of homemade oatmeal pancakes – which by the way were really yummy. After that we were off to visit the Japanese Tea Gardens. I read the signs along the route, all pointing us to the Japanese Tea Gardens. You can imagine my confusion, then, when we arrived at the park entrance and saw that the sign was welcoming us to the Chinese Tea Gardens. For the purposes of this blog, I’ve decided to just call them the Asian Tea Gardens so as not to upset either side.

Later that afternoon we visited a really cool grocery store where they had a humungo butcher case stocked with all kinds of rubbed, marinated, and seasoned meats.  We each picked out something that Geoff grilled later that night.  Seeing as how I’m not a big meat eater my choice was pretty simple, though I must say that even the variety of ready-to-grill chicken breasts was impressive.  The only item that swayed my attention was the veal tongue (tastebuds and all) at the end of the counter.  Poor thing was probably just a lickin’ away at its Salt lick and BAM!  No more french kissin’ for you.

Moving right along though.

Sunday morning we decided to visit a safari drive-thru experience thing. Basically, it was a place where you pay an entrance fee (a really hefty one at that!) and then drive-thru (hence the name) the park and stop to see lots of wildlife along the way. It was a neat place with lots of animals. I was pretty impressed with this guy myself…though is it just me or does he look a little suspicious?  One too many close calls at the Salt lick presumably.

That afternoon we did the Alamo. Have I mentioned I’m not so much a history buff?  Yeah, not so much.  I’m maybe slightly ashamed to admit that I was absolutely clueless as to what the heck the Alamo was all about. Apparently a visit to San Antonio isn’t complete without a stop there though. So here’s the obligatory picture for your viewing enjoyment.

I was pretty excited for the next item on our itinerary: the Riverwalk. I’d heard a lot about it. And for good reason. It was a great place to visit. I had anticipated there being more shops there, but as it turned out it was mostly restaurants. Never one to turn down the opportunity to dine out, though, I was game to dine al fresco at an Italian favorite of Geoff and Kelly’s. Again, they didn’t let us down with their choice. We closed out the evening with the Riverwalk boat ride. And the best news? I escaped with just one mosquito bite. It found a way to my ankle, presumably sucking around the gaggles of bug spray I’d applied. Clever little bloodsucker.

On our last day we walked from their house (they live on an Army base) to a place called the Quadrangle. Apparently it was once used as a prison for Geronimo. Don’t make fun of the fact that the extent of my knowledge on Geronimo is that he was native American. Maybe related to Pocahontas or something? Don’t email me. I’ll look it up, alright? Anyway, back in the day they kept animals on the grounds as well. Kelly (or Geoff I don’t remember which of them) said that the animals were there to provide food. I’m guessing that means the Army guys slaughtered them and fed them to Geronimo (roasted peacock anyone?). Anyway, there are still animals there today (inside this quadrangle place) and they are said to be decedents of the food animals. Cool huh?

All in all it was a super fly weekend.  It was so nice to be in the company of good friends again.  And to have another couple to play games with (even though they handed our arses to us on a platter thankyouverymuch).  It sucks that they live so far away not only because we just generally enjoy hanging out with them but also because our little guys are only about 18 months apart in age and it’d be fun to watch them grow up playing together.  And speaking of our little guys…Adam (our adorable Godson – but who’s bragging?) wasn’t so keen on either of us.  So, while I did get in that squeeze I was looking forward to, it wasn’t until we were leaving and even then it wasn’t exactly consensual.  But whatever.  With a face like his, how could I resist?

Yeah.  Well.  It didn’t work out so much. But I’m no quitter (with the exception of my first marriage and Jillian’s 30 day shred).  But still.  My point is that I’m trying again.  Climbing back on the proverbial horse.  Or bike as the case may be.  You get the drift right?

So I’ve put together a little slideshow that illustrates my rise to blogging famedom.  It constitutes my entry into SocialLuxe Lounge’s BlogHer contest.  They are of the belief that bloggers are the new celebrities.  And I happen to agree with them.  Not that I’m biased or anything.

What?  You didn’t realize you were in the presence of a celebrity?  ;)  Duh.

Lucky for me, this contest isn’t based on votes (phew!).  That said, it certainly woudn’t hurt my chances were you to click your way over (just click on the desert picture below) and have a lookie lou.  And if you want to do me one better, go ahead and click “Like” at the close of my catchy little presentation.

Maybe this time I’ll actually pull through.  And then we can make plans to schmooze in Chicago.  You with me?

Phew.

But here are a few things for you to ponder while I work on those pictures from our trip.

1. Jeff and I have a complaint to file with the National Idiots in Airports Association.  We have to take issue with the morons who surround the baggage carousel like it’s a feeding trough.  They step right up–effectively blocking entry for fellow travelers–and stand there until they see their bag.  And God forbid you should politely ask them to excuse you so that you, too, can fetch your bag.  Lord knows that once they step foot into that precious real estate they thereby own that space.  Sorry.  You’ll just have to watch your bag make its way around the carousel.  Maybe on the next go-round a small slot will have cleared.

2.  Speaking of idiots in airports.  I swear that if I never have to sit behind a couple who brings a breakfast burrito on the flight again-it’ll be too soon.  I’m gonna spare you the details on this one.

3.  Have you ever ran into someone you know in an airport?  I did.  It was the craziest thing to hear someone calling my name in the Vegas airport because, well, I’m just not all that popular of a gal really.  But sure enough.  One of my friends from high school was on her way to Chicago and she recognized me.  I hadn’t seen her in fifteen years so it was pretty cool to have our own impromptu reunion right there by the shoe-shiner.  Off all the people in all the places.  The world?  Way smaller than it seems sometimes.

Try to get those pictures up tomorrow.  Bear with me.  :)

We’ve managed to do just that though.

Our forecast for home this weekend?  Low 90’s.  We’re talking bust-the-windows-open kinda cool.

The forecast for San Antonio?  Over 100.  And humid.  All. weekend. long.

Fabulous.

We know how to pick ‘em don’t we?

It’s okay though.

We’ll be seeing a sight for sore eyes.

We’re going to visit our friends who up and left us here in the Old Pueblo just over a year ago.  We’ve got big plans that include the Riverwalk and Alamo and a bunch of other local stuff.  Wanna know a secret though?  I’m most excited to just hang out like we used to.  With food.  Maybe a bit of vino.  And fine–twist my arm into a game night.

Can’t wait to see them.  And to give Adam a big ‘ol squeeze.  If he’ll let me.  :)