pookie play date : mo phillips!

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mo phillips. holy warm crap i adore this man. seb and i have booped and bopped all over town to check out the big assortment of kid musicians p-town is currently offering. they are all good. mo is the best. mo is effervescent. mo is energetic. mo is entertaining. mo performs mad original music that he writes and composes (shout-out to “occasional yogurt”, a personal fav), a lot of which is done with his two sons and elementary school students. if mo were a sandwich shop, he’d be Brass Tacks (his favorite nbd). plus the man has a kiss ass sense of humor and that “it” thing. he loves what he does and the chillrun, that’s right, chillrun can tell. i look forward to every friday morning at 10am so that seb and i can bike (when it’s nice) or drive (when it’s nasty) to the Treehouse kid shop/play room and spend the next hour with mo. mo phillips 2

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i have memorized my favorite tunes of his and sing them back to seb ad nauseam all the damn time. mo treats the chillrun like the mini half-cooked cartoon-like characters they are and all us grown folk appreciate the levity he brings to what might be a bonkers stressed out parenting day. example; there’s a song where he asks the chillrun to shout out different animals for his, “go to sleep” song and one week, a little one offered up something decidedly non-animal, like toaster oven or crackers or something to that effect. and mo loved it. ate it up. was like, “that’s amazing, yes, toaster oven, ‘let’s go with it” and put it in the song where an animal usually goes. i was already drinking the kool-aid and in that instance, i was like, yeah, this dude is the truth. he is endearingly silly and young at heart and i hope he stays that way forever.

go see him whenever, wherever you can. some weeks, the Treehouse is packed and other weeks a smaller crowd shows up. either way is a solid time. plus the room he performs in is perfect – chillrun can be present in the magical mo bubble or wander around the room and play with tons of toys; a train table, a kitchen set-up, buckets filled with puzzles, building blocks and interactive toys plus there’s a separate little room where the chillrun can hide away and play or in the case of my son, retreat to poop.

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he also plays happy hour every week across the street on Williams Ave. at Poa Cafe, the fam-friendly spot i yammered on about here. sip on an adult bevvy with actual alcohol in it or suck down a yummy chillrun-friendly smoothie with a side of nutritional yeast-dusted popcorn. either way, you’re golden.

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mo’ mo! mo’ mo! mo’ mo! but for reals, go see and support this dude. he’s the goat of chillrun musicians.

mophillips.com

*eight. the number of times the word chillrun was used in this post kay thanks*

we eat dirt. hella dirt.

dog park 1while working on what’s turning into a massive do it your damn self teepee post, i felt the need to showcase my bebe slopping around in the mud at a dog park we frequent often, happy as his little kissable piggy ass could possibly be.

we recently swapped my 13-year old chichi for a 1-year old shepherd/fox hound mutt (don’t worry and no judgement on re-homing a senior dog because 1) that heifer was so loved and spoiled her whole damn life it’s sick. i brought her home at 8 weeks and we had hella good years together. she saw me through the college years, one night stands and a grip of burritos. in exchange, she had more picturesque canyon walks and pig ears than her tiny chichi tummy could handle and 2) because of this, i suppose i expected her to accept a new baby, one that came out of me and was part of our crew and curb her neurotic and jelly behavior around him. all he ever wanted to do was talk her for walks as soon as figured out being mobile, share all his baby snacks with her and bury his face in her fur.

but she didn’t care. she growled and snapped and gave him his first life wound, the tiniest scar on his left eyelid. it wasn’t on purpose but after that incident followed by several more months of waiting to see if she’d get her shit together, holding her little face in my hands and telling her to please be nice to the baby and to not make me choose because that wouldn’t end well for her. she made things so stressful it was hard to hang on some let’s just play music and have a dance party with my child and my dog in my own house. i knew she had to go. it was heart breaking and i was super emo but one night after she growled in his face right before bedtime and made him cry for the umpteenth time, i snapped her picture while she was curled up on her favorite animal print pillow and put her ass online. it was really real. i was really upset over the whole f’ing situation.

nina rescue me pic

and then i went to bed and slept because i thought surely no one would want to take on an old, cantankerous chihuahua. a week went by and nothing. and i felt like i would just have to find a way for all of us to co-exist without someone hacking up a fur ball and it would suck but this was girl, my only child for so long. and i loved her. but then, a few afternoons later, i got an email from Jewel Starz, her real name y’all i swear. the day we showed up to bring her Nina, she was dressed in a printed muumuu and a huge arty necklace. i found out she used to live on Haight & Ashbury in the 70’s selling hand sewn denim skirts. street cred yo. she was, incredulously, everything i could have ever wanted for my Nini and i will forever be thankful that she came into our lives and saved my cranky chichi from a life of baby misery. Nina now lives on an idyllic farm in Sherwood with Jewel, Jewel’s bff, some llamas, goats and a South American styled adobe filled with women’s liberal reading material and purple paintings.

llama farm picnot only have i received multiple email updates complete with attached photos and videos but Jewel invited me to come out to the farm one afternoon this summer to squeeze Nina’s face. i am there. i am bringing the iced tea, cookies and a copy of something manifesto-y and feminine.

nina with jewel

and a video, compliments of Miss Jewel. click and watch if you like llamas. or chihuahuas wearing raincoats near llamas. or anything in life that is cute : Nina and the llamas

and then, faced with the choice to live a dog-free life, i chose the road in life i usually choose, the harder, more exhausting and questioningly sane one. i searched the Humane Society website and craigslist like a crazy and found another animal to bring into our world. what’s a life lived that doesn’t resemble a menagerie? is my motto.

so i now cater to not one but two 18-month olds. because that’s a brilliant idea. also a short road to a white, padded room where meds are administered. but Mateo is at the same time magical and maniacal. he is extra sweet with Sebe, everyone’s bff at any dog park we take him to (which has to happen every. single. day. so much for the incremental me-minutes i had. who needs time in a day to take a shit anyway? so overrated) and even shields us from other canines that he deems unsafe to be in our bubble. for that, i luuuuve him. he’s just a puppy still. with crazy puppy energy and drive and the intense need to be outside as much as possible, even if that means jumping the baby gate and bolting out the door when no one’s looking. oh well. we all make choices.

so here we are. another day hanging at Fernhill park, which has the ultimate dog park. like, the king of all dog parks. like, if Fernhill was an ice cream, it would be Salt & Straw. and holy shit this post got long-winded by i have a point and that point is that as a new mom, i am taking full pride and joy in allowing my child to get as dirty as possible as often as possible. when else in life can you plop yourself down in a dusty, dirty mud hole in the middle of a dusty, dirty dog park and go to town like you were cooking up and taste-tasting the world’s best chocolate cake? so go forth and get dirty my love. get head to toe all up in your mouth and hair and ears and eyes and in between your toes and bellybutton filthy. i. love. it.

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“we can go play in the mud some more”. let’s go my love of loves. let’s go.