Posts by: Tina

Tina lives in Phoenix, the Valley of the Sun(burn). She is mother to daughter “Sun-Bun”, b.2007 and son “Pookie”, b.2009 and Blue, the saddest bulldog in the world. She is married to a quirky man from Trinidad, which Tina is pretty sure is Spanish for “land of sexy dancers.” During the day Tina works in wireless telecommunications, spreading cell phone signals to all corners of the country—including your car (but please don’t text and drive). Tina suffers from parenting esteem issues which she attempts to mask with sarcasm and wine. She strongly believes that if Virginia Woolf had been a mother she would have penned, “A Bathroom of One’s Own.” She is also convinced that Nature may well be a mother, but the destructive forces of gravity could only have come from a man. When she is not aimlessly wandering the grocery store aisles, digging BPA-free sippy cups out of the back of her minivan or patrolling her home for scorpions, Tina can be also be found at Three In the Bed.

Three in the Bed: Or, make that Four in the Bed.

I have often dedicated blog space to my immense fear of scorpions. If you aren’t in the southwest you may find my concern odd—much the same way I don’t understand your worry of driving through a snowstorm or fear that the winter season is now October through April. For those of us living sans-snow, our trade-off appears to be a willingness to live with a vile little creature with a horrible sting that may sneak around your home and, if you are really unlucky, sting and terrify you. My husband and I were just that lucky. “Get up! Turn on the light!” My husband yelled. I stumbled up,  noted that it was 1 am, and turned on the bedroom light. My husband threw the sheets back. There, in our bed, was a scorpion. A scorpion. In. Our. Bed. “It stung me!” he said, grabbing his side which was quickly turning red. I froze in fear, hoping this was a nightmare caused by a bad burrito. “Don’t just stand there, get something to kill it!” I grabbed a shoe and tossed it to him. “You want ME to kill it?” he griped. I stepped back,  “it already got you, no point both of us getting stung.” I wondered if it was an omen. Was my husband about to transform into the Scorpion King? (aka Dwayne Johnson) Sadly, he did not. Although he did unleash a string of profanity which I will attribute to the venom. He smashed it with the shoe. We stood there dazed, confused and one of us in a great deal of pain. We got our UV light and searched the kids’ bedrooms (yes, scorpions glow under UV light because clearly they were designed to be completely horrifying!!) We found no more. We lay awake, the lights on.  The next morning I called our pest control guy and told him to use enough poison to kill anything smaller than a cat (sorry guinea pigs). My husband and I discussed at length our bedroom attack. How in the world did a scorpion end up in our bed? I will confess, at one point, my husband wondered aloud if I had planted it there to sting him. His theory was withdrawn after he considered how utterly terrified I am of bugs in general and realized how utterly incapable I would be of hatching such a diabolical plan. Our final guess was that I did laundry that day and the scorpion might have gotten into the basket when I brought up the sheets. The moral of the story being, of course, that it’s far too dangerous to do laundry in Phoenix (or at least that’s my new excuse for letting it pile into miniature mountains.) I will provide this silver lining to my now sleepless nights of constant checking under the sheets. My scorpion in the bed story has now made it into a contest for “creepiest scorpion encounter.” You can see my photo and entry at Facebook: on.fb.me/1iszprC
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Three in the Bed: How to Turn Brown Green

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Today’s post is sponsored by Trinity Oaks.

In 2008, Trinchero Family Estates partnered with the non-profit group Trees For The Future and made a commitment to plant one tree for every bottle of Trinity Oaks wine sold.  Since then, we have planted over 10,000,000 trees together helping to change lives around the world.  Our commitment to the environment extends to our recyclable corks, lighter-weight bottles, labels made from 100% post-consumer recycled paper, and capsules produced from plant-based materials that are compostable.  Each bottle not only promises rich, complex flavors that pair beautifully with food, but also a lighter footprint you can feel good about. 

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Three in the Bed: Presents or Presence?

There is no shortage of birthday party invites making their way into my kid’s bags. Over the years we have been to all sorts of parties: pirate parties and princess parties and it seems we’ve been to every venue from bowling alleys to bounce houses. Recently however, my son Pookie brought home an invite with a twist I had not seen before, printed at the bottom it stated, “No Presents Please.” I was intrigued and truthfully – relieved.

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Three in the Bed: Is Friendship Magic?

My daughter Sun-Bun loves My Little Pony, and when I say love, I mean love in that sort of way that if it were possible for her to climb into the television and transport herself to the pony land of Equestria, I’m pretty sure she’d draw a cutie-mark on her behind and blow me a quick kiss good-bye. Sun-Bun is six and fortunately, many other girls at her school also enjoy the show. Sun-Bun has plenty of friends who can appreciate the differences between a Pegasus and an Alicorn and swoon over her Rainbow Dash knee-socks. Recently I was saddened to read a news story about a boy who did not have friends at his school who shared his love of My Little Pony.

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Three in the Bed: 12 Days of Christmas – Revisited

I’ve always enjoyed the song 12 Days of Christmas; it’s a classic and easier to sing than Little Drummer Boy (ba rump a dum dum?). However, the song is long due for an update as I’ve never seen a partridge or for that matter, a pear tree, and if I had eight maids at my disposal, I can assure you, I wouldn’t waste their time milking.

Here’s my thought on an update:

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Three in the Bed: Thankful for Letting Go

First, can we all agree that we can’t believe Thanksgiving is here? I could swear it was just last week I was running around trying to find what I had in the house to accommodate a last minute Halloween costume request to be a Lego Ninja warrior. Now I’m madly surfing the Internet to find highly rated no-bake pie recipes that I can pull off in between getting home from work Wednesday and an early dinner on Thursday.

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Three in the Bed: The Real Horror of Halloween

I am so ready for Halloween to get here and not because I’m a big fan of it – although I do rate it above Valentines Day if only for the variety of candy options beyond boxed chocolates. I’m ready to get Halloween over with because I’m tired of seeing plastic pumpkins mixed in the same aisle as stuffed Santas and I’ll be relieved when the last witch is wrapped up and we can all begin our collective groan about how Christmas is only 8 Saturdays away (how’s that for a scare?)  But my true gripe with Halloween are kids. Yes, kids are the true horror of Halloween, and before you start boo-booing my opinion, allow me to explain why getting kids through Halloween night is more frightening than any zombie movie I’ve ever seen (I haven’t seen very many.)

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Three in the Bed: Sickness and Chaos

I’m sick. This is a change from my usual rant of I’m sick and tired as in, “I’m sick and tired of making nut-butter sandwiches.” Presently I’m sick with a yucky cold and laryngitis. Well, I’m sick as much as Moms are permitted to be sick. It takes a lot for Moms to be excused from Mom duties. I’ve known Moms who packed lunches while they were in labor, Moms with the stomach flu who sewed costumes in between trips to the bathroom and Moms like me with nasty colds who shuffle through the morning routine in an antihistamine-induced haze.

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Three in the Bed: Playing With My Kids’ Food

I have a confession to make. I was going to put it in the Winesday Confessional but it was too odd, so I’ll share it here instead so I can elaborate a bit. I pack beautiful lunches for my kids. I know, it’s – weird. Well, you would think it was weird if you saw the state of my kitchen or me in my pajamas at 6am using a toothpick to carve a message into a banana for Sun-Bun. You might also think it’s an oxy-moron – I mean, “beautiful and school lunch” – what’s beautiful about bologna? To which I say check out my new stainless steel culinary cutter from Japan that will turn bologna into bite sized teddy bears.

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Three in the Bed: My Life is a Sandwich and I am the Bologna

I am writing this post next to my Mom’s hospital bed. Three days ago she had open heart surgery. After two days in intensive care she is starting to recover. I am so grateful and proud of her strength and courage, if I ever attain half her resilience by age 74 I’ll have done well. Assisting my Mom through her recovery has put me in the middle of a sandwich: the needs of my aging parents are one slice of bread and the needs of my young family are the other and here I am in the middle – feeling like bologna.

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