I love my OB. I really do. He is the 4th OB I've had over the course of my motherhood, and this pregnancy marks the first time that two of my babies will be delivered by the same doctor, so that says a lot about how much I like him. He is an older gentleman, a native of Korea. He has a thick accent, but a dry wit, and we always manage a playful banter. A lot of his patients do not speak English, and he does not speak Spanish, so he employs almost all bi-lingual Spanish speakers to help him translate. I think he really appreciates that he can have intelligent conversations one on one with me, so we get along really well.
Lately I have been having a lot of trouble with my sinuses and a bad cough. My last two pregnancies I was plagued by a terrible cough that went on for months. My family doctor at the time determined that I have a pregnancy- induced asthma, and put me on steroids to help me breathe. (Steroids in-utero, maybe that explains why both Curly and Paddy are out of their minds?) This time around I thought I would be proactive, and take myself to the Dr. before my lungs got so bad that I need steroids again. So I went on Friday. It has been a nightmare. Thanks to lovely insurance changes I now have a new family practitioner, and he seems to think the problem is my sinuses, and that we need to treat "the nose" to cure "the cough". The problem is that most sinus medications are not safe to use in pregnancy. There is one formula which is considered safe, however, my lovely insurance of course, does not cover it. So, I spent much of my day yesterday on the phone with the pharmacy and trying to get past the sphincter police manning the front desk at the Dr's office, in order to get a pre-approval from the lovely insurance people. (by the way, "lovely" is just another term for "evil, greedy bastards")
At some point yesterday, I decided to call my OB and get his expertise. No sphincter police in his office, within 5 minutes of dialing I was on the phone speaking with my real, live doctor - amazing! So anyway I was explaining the problem, when he asked if I had tried
"Lovishun, cough syrup".
"What?'
"Lovishun"
"Huh?"
"Lovishun, cough syrup."
So I said no, I hadn't tried cough syrup. I explained what the fam. Doc said about "treating the nose"...etc. So my OB asked what is the biggest problem, my nose or my cough? I told him that it was definitely the cough, I feel as though my ribs are about to break.
He said "ok, I want you to try Lovishun"
I said "ok, what is that?"
"Lovishun, lovishun"
I said "I don't know what that is, is it a prescription?"
"No, you buy it over the counter, Lovishun"
I said, "I am sorry, I've never heard of it, I'll have to write it down, Lovishun?"
"Yes, Lovishun"
"with an 'L'?"
"No, an "R, Lovishun"
"...you mean...Robitussin?"
"Yes, that's what I said, Lovishun"
So... maybe we don't communicate so well.
Anyway, my cough has slightly improved thanks to the "cough syrup". I am still waiting for the lovely insurance people to be big about this and agree to pay for the one medication that has NOT been shown to cause harm to a fetus....but that paperwork will probably take about 9 months! In the meantime I will be throwing back 2tsp of "Lovishun" every four hours!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
A lovely, Barbie-Free Day
Curly girl, her Damnma (Grandma) and I had a lovely day today. I planned a trip for a group of us to head down to our local town hall auditorium to see a local production of "The Nutcracker". You see, Curly Girl goes to "banarina school" and she loves it. I found out that if I could round up a group of at least 10 people, I could take her to see REAL ballerinas for just $5 a pop! ($26 if you don't have 9 friends!) I called just about everyone I know that has little girls with ballerina and/or princess leanings, and soon I had a group of 15. I planned the outing for Wednesday, so that we could go right after "banarina school" (what can I say, I'm into themes!)
Curly girl was so excited, sitting in her leotard and tutu just waiting for the curtain to rise. (ok, so it didn't actually rise, it moved slowly across the proscenium on a rope, but you get the picture!) At first when I told her about the outing to see ballerinas, she thought that it would be a movie, however when she spotted one of the costumed dancers in the hallway pre-show, she was beside herself with anticipation. I was loving every minute of her awe and wonderment, and I think her Grandma was too. Finally the performance started, and she was mesmerized. She sat so quietly, watching every move the dancers made. When she saw a part she really liked, her eyes grew as wide as her smile and her hands clasped each other with glee. Oh, to be three and a half!
I looked around me and noticed most of the other kids watching just as intently. Then, I heard one child nearby whisper not so quietly to her Mom, "I guess, Barbie isn't coming?". Huh? I had heard other whisperings of the name Barbie before the show started, but I didn't really pay much attention to it, considering the crowd I was with. Apparently there is a Barbie Nutcracker movie, and a lot of these kids were expecting to see not "Clara's Dream", but "Barbie's." I was proud at that moment that thus far I have kept my Curly-girl Barbie-free, and therefore preserved a little bit of the innocence of her childhood. I don't exactly forbid Barbie, I just forbid anyone from buying her for my daughter. I am not a feminist taking a stance on this issue, not at all, Curly girl is a princess of her own choosing. I just don't like the doll much. I had some when I was a kid, and I didn't have much interest in playing with them. However, if the time comes that my Curly girl expresses an independent interest in the Mattel wonder woman, I will concede because it will have been her choice.
The funny thing is, if you've ever really looked at a real ballet dancer there are some distinctive physical characteristics. Let's just say, Barbie would never fit into the Sugarplum Fairy costume, her cup would runneth over!
Curly girl was so excited, sitting in her leotard and tutu just waiting for the curtain to rise. (ok, so it didn't actually rise, it moved slowly across the proscenium on a rope, but you get the picture!) At first when I told her about the outing to see ballerinas, she thought that it would be a movie, however when she spotted one of the costumed dancers in the hallway pre-show, she was beside herself with anticipation. I was loving every minute of her awe and wonderment, and I think her Grandma was too. Finally the performance started, and she was mesmerized. She sat so quietly, watching every move the dancers made. When she saw a part she really liked, her eyes grew as wide as her smile and her hands clasped each other with glee. Oh, to be three and a half!
I looked around me and noticed most of the other kids watching just as intently. Then, I heard one child nearby whisper not so quietly to her Mom, "I guess, Barbie isn't coming?". Huh? I had heard other whisperings of the name Barbie before the show started, but I didn't really pay much attention to it, considering the crowd I was with. Apparently there is a Barbie Nutcracker movie, and a lot of these kids were expecting to see not "Clara's Dream", but "Barbie's." I was proud at that moment that thus far I have kept my Curly-girl Barbie-free, and therefore preserved a little bit of the innocence of her childhood. I don't exactly forbid Barbie, I just forbid anyone from buying her for my daughter. I am not a feminist taking a stance on this issue, not at all, Curly girl is a princess of her own choosing. I just don't like the doll much. I had some when I was a kid, and I didn't have much interest in playing with them. However, if the time comes that my Curly girl expresses an independent interest in the Mattel wonder woman, I will concede because it will have been her choice.
The funny thing is, if you've ever really looked at a real ballet dancer there are some distinctive physical characteristics. Let's just say, Barbie would never fit into the Sugarplum Fairy costume, her cup would runneth over!
Monday, December 10, 2007
Daily challenge:
Think you're smart? Try this:
Teach a stubborn, snot nosed five year old to "BLOW your FREAKIN NOSE ALREADY!"
If anyone can do this, I wll give you Ten Bucks!
Friday, December 7, 2007
Unnecessary Anxiety
I am getting soft in my old age. And because in this particular post it is relevant, I must state: I AM NOT OLD. I have a strong personality. Some people would use other, "stronger" words to describe me, but we won't go there right now. That would be a tangent.
So, this is my fifth pregnancy. I am quite familiar with all of the usual testing and what not. I know what to expect for the most part, and I am rather educated on the pros and cons of each test, as I did a lot of reading during my first pregnancy and have continued to do so with each subsequent pregnancy. There are two screening tests that are done fairly early on in the pregnancy. During my first pregnancy I was only offered one, the AFP or Triple Screen. It is a blood test that is used to determine risk of having a child with abnormalities, namely Down Syndrome. As I said, I have done my research. This test is not conclusive, it only assesses risk, and further more, it has a high rate of false positive results. In other words, very often they tell you that you may be at high risk, but upon further testing and eventual birth you find that you have a blessedly, perfectly healthy child. Since this test only measures risk, a "positive" result is an indication for further testing, such as an amniocentesis, a test which is in itself risky. So, during both my first and second pregnancies, I refused this test. Hubby and I decided that the potential anxiety this test might cause, just wasn't worth it.
My third pregnancy didn't last long enough for this, or any other test to be done, as I sadly miscarried at 12 weeks. My fourth pregnancy came very quickly after the devastating miscarriage. As you might imagine, I was a nervous wreck! During this pregnancy they offered me another test called an "Ultrascreen". It is a combination of a blood test and a sonogram. I jumped at the opportunity to have this test done, not because I had any anxiety whatsoever about having a child with Down's Syndrome or any other type of disease or birth defect, but because it was an opportunity to have an extra sonogram, a chance to see my baby alive inside of me! It helped to ease my mind a little, to know that he was ok, to see him with my own two eyes. So, I said yes, sign me up!
During this pregnancy, #5, I once again had the Ulrascreen test. It was a joy to see this new person, although getting my finger pinched to draw blood was not that much fun. The Drs assured me that the sono looked great, everything normal. Fabulous news, and I got a lovely picture of the newest family member to post on my bulletin board!
At my most recent OB appointment, I was 15 weeks, and the Dr. mentioned that I would need some blood work. "Why?" I asked. I have bad veins, drawing blood is a really unpleasant experience for me and whatever nurse or phlebotomist has the pleasure of poking me. The Dr. said, oh just routine stuff, AFP, and some other regular things. Now as I stated at the beginning of this post, I must be getting soft. I adore my Dr, and although I do normally ask a lot of questions and demand explanations, I trust him. On this particular Friday morning I just rolled up my sleeves and said "okay." Why? Why? Why?
The Dr. called me this Friday morning to let me know that he got the results from my AFP test. (Can't be good if you're calling, right?) Apparently, normal risk for someone my age (again, I am Not OLD!) having a child with Down's Syndrome is 1 in 500. According to this blood test my risk is double, at 1 in 250. He went on to say that he is about 98% sure my baby will be fine. He suggests we wait for the 20 week sonogram and see what that shows. Then, if we are very nervous, we can do an amniocenteses, which is the only conclusive test for Down's. Holy Crap! All this crap is now on my shoulders just because I decided to be soft one Friday morning! Ugh. I could kick myself for not refusing that test!
Here's the thing, I know that it is a crappy test. I believe that for me, the risks of amnio are just too high. If God decides to give me a child with Down's Syndrome, or anything else, I will accept it. No matter what, I will always choose life. Even if the Dr told me, and showed me evidence that a child I was carrying would have no chance of survival outside the womb, would die in my arms minutes after birth, I would have that child. I believe in God. I believe that He has a plan for me, and I trust in Him above anyone else. Now, I do know that there is a school of thought which says that even if you would never terminate a pregnancy, it is still better to know what a child's difficulties may be before birth, so that the family and medical providers can be better prepared. I understand that. I am choosing not to worry about this though. Odds of 1 in 250? Those aren't the greatest odds. I have a much higher chance of developing Breast Cancer in my life. I will worry about that instead, or better yet, I will put my life, and my baby's in God's hands and not worry at all. However, if there is a next time, I will remember not to be soft, and to refuse the AFP test!
So, this is my fifth pregnancy. I am quite familiar with all of the usual testing and what not. I know what to expect for the most part, and I am rather educated on the pros and cons of each test, as I did a lot of reading during my first pregnancy and have continued to do so with each subsequent pregnancy. There are two screening tests that are done fairly early on in the pregnancy. During my first pregnancy I was only offered one, the AFP or Triple Screen. It is a blood test that is used to determine risk of having a child with abnormalities, namely Down Syndrome. As I said, I have done my research. This test is not conclusive, it only assesses risk, and further more, it has a high rate of false positive results. In other words, very often they tell you that you may be at high risk, but upon further testing and eventual birth you find that you have a blessedly, perfectly healthy child. Since this test only measures risk, a "positive" result is an indication for further testing, such as an amniocentesis, a test which is in itself risky. So, during both my first and second pregnancies, I refused this test. Hubby and I decided that the potential anxiety this test might cause, just wasn't worth it.
My third pregnancy didn't last long enough for this, or any other test to be done, as I sadly miscarried at 12 weeks. My fourth pregnancy came very quickly after the devastating miscarriage. As you might imagine, I was a nervous wreck! During this pregnancy they offered me another test called an "Ultrascreen". It is a combination of a blood test and a sonogram. I jumped at the opportunity to have this test done, not because I had any anxiety whatsoever about having a child with Down's Syndrome or any other type of disease or birth defect, but because it was an opportunity to have an extra sonogram, a chance to see my baby alive inside of me! It helped to ease my mind a little, to know that he was ok, to see him with my own two eyes. So, I said yes, sign me up!
During this pregnancy, #5, I once again had the Ulrascreen test. It was a joy to see this new person, although getting my finger pinched to draw blood was not that much fun. The Drs assured me that the sono looked great, everything normal. Fabulous news, and I got a lovely picture of the newest family member to post on my bulletin board!
At my most recent OB appointment, I was 15 weeks, and the Dr. mentioned that I would need some blood work. "Why?" I asked. I have bad veins, drawing blood is a really unpleasant experience for me and whatever nurse or phlebotomist has the pleasure of poking me. The Dr. said, oh just routine stuff, AFP, and some other regular things. Now as I stated at the beginning of this post, I must be getting soft. I adore my Dr, and although I do normally ask a lot of questions and demand explanations, I trust him. On this particular Friday morning I just rolled up my sleeves and said "okay." Why? Why? Why?
The Dr. called me this Friday morning to let me know that he got the results from my AFP test. (Can't be good if you're calling, right?) Apparently, normal risk for someone my age (again, I am Not OLD!) having a child with Down's Syndrome is 1 in 500. According to this blood test my risk is double, at 1 in 250. He went on to say that he is about 98% sure my baby will be fine. He suggests we wait for the 20 week sonogram and see what that shows. Then, if we are very nervous, we can do an amniocenteses, which is the only conclusive test for Down's. Holy Crap! All this crap is now on my shoulders just because I decided to be soft one Friday morning! Ugh. I could kick myself for not refusing that test!
Here's the thing, I know that it is a crappy test. I believe that for me, the risks of amnio are just too high. If God decides to give me a child with Down's Syndrome, or anything else, I will accept it. No matter what, I will always choose life. Even if the Dr told me, and showed me evidence that a child I was carrying would have no chance of survival outside the womb, would die in my arms minutes after birth, I would have that child. I believe in God. I believe that He has a plan for me, and I trust in Him above anyone else. Now, I do know that there is a school of thought which says that even if you would never terminate a pregnancy, it is still better to know what a child's difficulties may be before birth, so that the family and medical providers can be better prepared. I understand that. I am choosing not to worry about this though. Odds of 1 in 250? Those aren't the greatest odds. I have a much higher chance of developing Breast Cancer in my life. I will worry about that instead, or better yet, I will put my life, and my baby's in God's hands and not worry at all. However, if there is a next time, I will remember not to be soft, and to refuse the AFP test!
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Season's Greetings!
One of my most favorite guilty pleasures of the Christmas season is probably seen by some as trivial, but I proudly pledge my allegiance to...the Christmas Card. I love Christmas Cards, both sending them and receiving them. Hubby knows that for the month of December, he had better just hand over the mail because all Christmas correspondence must come through me first! My own card list is topping out at around 100 this year, and I keep a sophisticated spreadsheet where I keep track of who I sent a card to as well as whom I received one from. If I don't receive a card from you for at least two years straight then you're cut off, removed from my mailing list, excommunicated from my church of the Most Holy Christmas Greeting. I spend hours torturing my children to get the picture just right, then I spend several more hours agonizing over just the right way to present it.
Each day I anxiously await the arrival of the postman, (you know, while I am eating my bon bons and watching my telenovas) I toss bills and sales circulars to the wind and rejoice at the sight of each envelope with an actual 41cent stamp and handwritten address block.
The most coveted of Christmas cards is of course the photo card. Send me pictures of your little cuties all snuggled up in candy cane striped jammies, or decked out in frills by the tree, and I am your devoted fan for life (or as long as you keep them coming!) I proudly display the photo cards I receive like they are limited edition Donruss baseball cards! It's crazy the things that get me high!
Of course, not everyone has a cute cherub to snap a picture of and send in a Christmas card. That's ok. That's what Hallmark and American Greetings are for, and I love receiving the funny cards, the religious cards and even the ambiguous cards almost as much as the photo cards. Trust me, you are appreciated in your own special way.
There is only one kind of Christmas card that...irks me. The non-photo card from a family with at least one cherub. Why go to the trouble and expense of sending a card, even and especially a cheap card? You know that as soon as I see your return address I am going to get myself all excited anticipating tearing into that beautiful envelope so that I can feast my eyes upon...some Currier & Ives print? Really? Are you trying to hurt me? I am sorry to sound rude or ungrateful, but your "Merry Christmas" or heaven forbid, "Season's Greetings" (your ambiguity pisses me off) falls pretty flat when you neglect to send me a picture of your Christmas Joy. I mean, come on, Christmas is the season of giving, so please, don't be greedy, don't keep your cutie all to yourself, SEND ME HIS PICTURE!!
Each day I anxiously await the arrival of the postman, (you know, while I am eating my bon bons and watching my telenovas) I toss bills and sales circulars to the wind and rejoice at the sight of each envelope with an actual 41cent stamp and handwritten address block.
The most coveted of Christmas cards is of course the photo card. Send me pictures of your little cuties all snuggled up in candy cane striped jammies, or decked out in frills by the tree, and I am your devoted fan for life (or as long as you keep them coming!) I proudly display the photo cards I receive like they are limited edition Donruss baseball cards! It's crazy the things that get me high!
Of course, not everyone has a cute cherub to snap a picture of and send in a Christmas card. That's ok. That's what Hallmark and American Greetings are for, and I love receiving the funny cards, the religious cards and even the ambiguous cards almost as much as the photo cards. Trust me, you are appreciated in your own special way.
There is only one kind of Christmas card that...irks me. The non-photo card from a family with at least one cherub. Why go to the trouble and expense of sending a card, even and especially a cheap card? You know that as soon as I see your return address I am going to get myself all excited anticipating tearing into that beautiful envelope so that I can feast my eyes upon...some Currier & Ives print? Really? Are you trying to hurt me? I am sorry to sound rude or ungrateful, but your "Merry Christmas" or heaven forbid, "Season's Greetings" (your ambiguity pisses me off) falls pretty flat when you neglect to send me a picture of your Christmas Joy. I mean, come on, Christmas is the season of giving, so please, don't be greedy, don't keep your cutie all to yourself, SEND ME HIS PICTURE!!
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Jingle Bells
Let me say this first, I adore Christmas. I am only too happy that I now have children with whom I can act like a little kid over the whole month of December. Santa on a fire engine, gingerbread houses, Christmas carols, popcorn balls, tree decorating...I love it all. That said, allow me a moment to Scrooge here, but Jingle Bells may be the most tiring, overplayed, easily annoying Christmas song there is. ("shoes" is a whole 'nother post) It has been used as a parody tune left and right, "Batman smells" - seriously? I mean, the most creative anyone has gotten with this song in a long time was to have a bunch of dogs sing it.
Last Saturday I loaded Rosie up with the fam, and headed down to our church for their annual Santa Breakfast, followed by the town's annual Santa Parade later in the afternoon. It is one of the "funnest" days of the year in my opinion. We got to the breakfast as Santa was arriving, and soon thereafter began a Christmas Carol sing-along. First Son was excited to go gather around the tree, but then was hesitant because Curly was insistent on finishing her pancakes first ( the girl has priorities). I tried to encourage First Son to go, and even offered to go with him (not that sharing my voice spreads Christmas cheer to anyone...but if it made my kid happy, then what the heck!) First Son says that maybe he will go IF...they play his favorite song. "What's your favorite song?" you guessed it..."Jingle Bells". I thought, "sure, that's just the only song you know the name of", but wouldn't you know, seconds later the teenage elf with the microphone announces "now, let's sing Jingle Bells" and zoom, First Son uncharacteristically takes off on his own and joins the group to sing along. Amazing.
Maybe, it really is his favorite song after all. I mean, he only has a little more than five years on this planet, that's just 5 Christmases under his belt compared to my 32! Maybe he hasn't had a chance yet to become annoyed by the trite refrain "jingle all the waaay". Maybe it is also because the song is so simple, it is so easily learned (and therefore stuck in your head), that it becomes a childhood favorite much like the ABC song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (the difference being that those two songs pretty much stay in childhood, that is, until parenthood, while Jingle Bells reappears annually).
This evening, First Son and I were driving together to our local CVS to purchase some items for a care package that his kindergarten class is sending to the troops in Iraq. The entire ride, First Son kept singing Jingle bells, Jingle Bells...he was so proud of himself when he got the part about the "one horse open sleigh" right. I was not complaining, but it was starting to grate on my nerves. I turned on the radio, hoping to distract him. What came on, but some jazzed up version of his favorite holiday tune. I couldn't escape it, so we sat in the parking lot of CVS listening to the radio drone on, well, I was listening to the radio drone on, First Son was rocking out in the back seat! When the song was finally over, I let my too cynical self smile, thinking about the innocence of childhood, and then we started on our way into the store.
The story, or should I say, the song, however doesn't end there. We had to park pretty far from the entrance and walk, (as it is December and all the little elves decided to head to CVS tonight, the coldest night of the year so far, to gather up all their stocking stuffs) and First Son sang the entire way. At the top of his lungs, and without the slightest hint of self-awareness either. He certainly wasn't aware of the sly smiles that he was getting from every passerby we met. What is this...people are smiling at Jingle Bells? It's a revolution!
My Jingle Bell experience made me think of another Christmas song, this one a little more contemporary, "Christmas Through Your Eyes" by Gloria Estefan. I think that tonight First Son may have given a few people, myself included a little dose of just what Christmas is through the eyes of a child. A wonderful, perfect, not yet cynical, beautiful, off-key child!
Last Saturday I loaded Rosie up with the fam, and headed down to our church for their annual Santa Breakfast, followed by the town's annual Santa Parade later in the afternoon. It is one of the "funnest" days of the year in my opinion. We got to the breakfast as Santa was arriving, and soon thereafter began a Christmas Carol sing-along. First Son was excited to go gather around the tree, but then was hesitant because Curly was insistent on finishing her pancakes first ( the girl has priorities). I tried to encourage First Son to go, and even offered to go with him (not that sharing my voice spreads Christmas cheer to anyone...but if it made my kid happy, then what the heck!) First Son says that maybe he will go IF...they play his favorite song. "What's your favorite song?" you guessed it..."Jingle Bells". I thought, "sure, that's just the only song you know the name of", but wouldn't you know, seconds later the teenage elf with the microphone announces "now, let's sing Jingle Bells" and zoom, First Son uncharacteristically takes off on his own and joins the group to sing along. Amazing.
Maybe, it really is his favorite song after all. I mean, he only has a little more than five years on this planet, that's just 5 Christmases under his belt compared to my 32! Maybe he hasn't had a chance yet to become annoyed by the trite refrain "jingle all the waaay". Maybe it is also because the song is so simple, it is so easily learned (and therefore stuck in your head), that it becomes a childhood favorite much like the ABC song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (the difference being that those two songs pretty much stay in childhood, that is, until parenthood, while Jingle Bells reappears annually).
This evening, First Son and I were driving together to our local CVS to purchase some items for a care package that his kindergarten class is sending to the troops in Iraq. The entire ride, First Son kept singing Jingle bells, Jingle Bells...he was so proud of himself when he got the part about the "one horse open sleigh" right. I was not complaining, but it was starting to grate on my nerves. I turned on the radio, hoping to distract him. What came on, but some jazzed up version of his favorite holiday tune. I couldn't escape it, so we sat in the parking lot of CVS listening to the radio drone on, well, I was listening to the radio drone on, First Son was rocking out in the back seat! When the song was finally over, I let my too cynical self smile, thinking about the innocence of childhood, and then we started on our way into the store.
The story, or should I say, the song, however doesn't end there. We had to park pretty far from the entrance and walk, (as it is December and all the little elves decided to head to CVS tonight, the coldest night of the year so far, to gather up all their stocking stuffs) and First Son sang the entire way. At the top of his lungs, and without the slightest hint of self-awareness either. He certainly wasn't aware of the sly smiles that he was getting from every passerby we met. What is this...people are smiling at Jingle Bells? It's a revolution!
My Jingle Bell experience made me think of another Christmas song, this one a little more contemporary, "Christmas Through Your Eyes" by Gloria Estefan. I think that tonight First Son may have given a few people, myself included a little dose of just what Christmas is through the eyes of a child. A wonderful, perfect, not yet cynical, beautiful, off-key child!
I hear you!!
I have been told that I suck at blogging. It's true. I mean, Nov. 12th? Come on! What is it today, the 4th of December? So much for my new laptop being the only thing standing between me and a daily post. Several of my readers are up in arms about it, threatening even. It's not as though there hasn't been plenty to blog about since 11/12. I mean, there was Thanksgiving, and Paddy boy's party (you can read one version of that story over at http://ataleoftwobabies.blogspot.com/), the Announcement and subsequent details from Mickey D and the Sunshine Girl, and most recently, Paddy boy's birthday. There's the whole Season of Giving thing - and giving, and giving and giving, and being taken; there's plenty to write about Kindergarten and pie, the fetus, and all sorts of things. Also, there's the imminent departure of the DD family - now there's a post. Maybe I just have too much to write about. Has anybody considered that? Have any of you people offered to come and take over my domestic duties while I massage my inner muse? No. So, what do you want from me? A post? Oh, is that all? Fine. I will deliver a new post by the end of the day...HOWEVER...would it be too much for me to ask in return for a few freakin comments?? Thank you.
Monday, November 12, 2007
In response to #8....NO!
Have you seen this show on TLC called "Kids by the Dozen"? Each episode they feature a different family with, you guessed it - a dozen or more kids. I watch it every so often when there's nothing better to do, and, I admit, with the hope that I might learn something useful . In truth the show is really quite contrived, they focus on just one or two of the children, and rather than touching on the day to day lives of each tribe, they instead show the family involved in some monumental task or event, and the events leading up to it. For instance building a barn AND opening a store AND making (not buying) all of the inventory for said store, all within one week. Yeah, OK, that might happen in real life. Nevertheless, I watch.
Well, last week I watched an episode in which the family had 13 children and one on the way. So, what I have determined to be the difference between myself and these people who are oh so fruitful and multiplying, is that they must be missing some important nerve endings. How this woman could keep up with 13 rambunctious children, a husband, a house, be pregnant AND allow TV cameras to follow her around is beyond me, way beyond me. I can barely keep up with three! I mean, she appeared to be happy and alert, she was up and dressed, her house was pretty well put together and she never once even looked like she had considered yelling at any of her bratty little kids. I on the other hand spend most of my days in my bathrobe, wading through the sea of Cheerios and heaven knows what else that has become my kitchen floor, trying to avoid eye contact with the gaggle of people who keep calling me "Mommy". As I said, the show is quite contrived. Either that or I need a therapist.
Well, last week I watched an episode in which the family had 13 children and one on the way. So, what I have determined to be the difference between myself and these people who are oh so fruitful and multiplying, is that they must be missing some important nerve endings. How this woman could keep up with 13 rambunctious children, a husband, a house, be pregnant AND allow TV cameras to follow her around is beyond me, way beyond me. I can barely keep up with three! I mean, she appeared to be happy and alert, she was up and dressed, her house was pretty well put together and she never once even looked like she had considered yelling at any of her bratty little kids. I on the other hand spend most of my days in my bathrobe, wading through the sea of Cheerios and heaven knows what else that has become my kitchen floor, trying to avoid eye contact with the gaggle of people who keep calling me "Mommy". As I said, the show is quite contrived. Either that or I need a therapist.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Thirteen Responses to my Announcement
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in no particular order... 1. "I'm going to get another drink..." 2. "You're some woman for one woman." 3. "Are you out of your cotton pickin' mind?" 4. "Wow" 5. "You psychotic Irish woman!" 6. disbelieving laughter..."that's funny" 7. "what the heck?!" 8. "are you trying to be like those people on TV with 16 kids?" 9. " I knew it!" 10. "knocked up again, huh?" 11. "No!" 12. " You're such a good Mom, if anyone can do it it's you!" 13. " I love you." Links to other Thursday Thirteens!1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!) |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Bottom of my tops, top of my bottoms
Let me preface this post by saying, I am not a vain person. Not really. I am in to hygiene (under which heading falls my bi-weekly pedicure), and I do get a haircut every six weeks, but make-up is for special occasions, and I am just fine with the fact that most of my clothes come from Target and Old Navy. That said...
Ugh. It has started, the expanding that is inevitable with my condition. It creeps up on me, but there is no more denying it. It started one day 2 weeks ago when, after a few hours in my regular jeans I realized that I was extremely uncomfortable and needed to change. So, I pulled out one pair of comfy and somewhat "cool" preggo jeans. OK, I could deal because, really what we were talking about is comfort. Comfort is a good thing. And, I could still wear my regular tops, I was just upgrading my comfort level a little bit by introducing an elastic waistband on my jeans. Now, not so much. I got dressed this morning, pulled on my preggo jeans and topped them off with a stylish brown ribbed turtleneck - a nice casual look. Very versatile - will take me from my Dr's appt. today right through my glamorous PTA meeting this evening, right? NO. Almost immediately the bottom of my top (there's an interesting phrase) started creeping up. After the walk from the kitchen to the front stoop on the way to the bus stop, the entire blue cotton panel at the top of my bottoms (I can't help myself) was showing! I had to quickly pull my coat closed, and assume unfriendly body language. When hubby gets home this afternoon I am going to have him pull out the entire bucket o' prego clothes. At least we know right where it is, since we only just put it away last week! Argh.
Ugh. It has started, the expanding that is inevitable with my condition. It creeps up on me, but there is no more denying it. It started one day 2 weeks ago when, after a few hours in my regular jeans I realized that I was extremely uncomfortable and needed to change. So, I pulled out one pair of comfy and somewhat "cool" preggo jeans. OK, I could deal because, really what we were talking about is comfort. Comfort is a good thing. And, I could still wear my regular tops, I was just upgrading my comfort level a little bit by introducing an elastic waistband on my jeans. Now, not so much. I got dressed this morning, pulled on my preggo jeans and topped them off with a stylish brown ribbed turtleneck - a nice casual look. Very versatile - will take me from my Dr's appt. today right through my glamorous PTA meeting this evening, right? NO. Almost immediately the bottom of my top (there's an interesting phrase) started creeping up. After the walk from the kitchen to the front stoop on the way to the bus stop, the entire blue cotton panel at the top of my bottoms (I can't help myself) was showing! I had to quickly pull my coat closed, and assume unfriendly body language. When hubby gets home this afternoon I am going to have him pull out the entire bucket o' prego clothes. At least we know right where it is, since we only just put it away last week! Argh.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
No More Excuses!
Ok, so I am now 32 years and 7 days old. My husband, who is usually a mediocre gift giver at best (he has been known to do most of his shopping at either Pathmark or Target the night before or day of...) has miraculously given me a fabulous gift for my big 3-2! Of course, I now have pretty much no excuse for lagging behind on my blog entries. I have my own laptop, AND wireless internet! I actually cried when I opened the package. I have wanted a laptop for a really long time, but it has never been in the budget. I am not really sure it's in the budget now, but I don't care. I am sitting on my sofa right now with a warm and toasty throw over my lap typing away. This is bliss, but it is also pressure. Now, I have to blog regularly, no excuses. I have my own computer, no one to have to take turns with, and I can take it with me wherever I go. I will do my best to keep you all entertained, but, I do still have three small children, a husband, a house, a fetus, etc, but alas, no more excuses.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
I Hate the bus stop
I do. Hate is a strong word, I know, but I do. I hate the bus stop. Every morning bright and early at 7:30 AM there are bratty little mongrels running wild on the bus stop making me crazy! And poor First Son, he just wants to be part of the crowd, but he's not a bratty little mongrel.
We share the corner with two other families, the aforementioned smokin at the bus stop Gang-bangers (although no more smoke) and another family I will call the Wild Rovers. The WR are an Irish American family with two boys, one in 1st grade and one who is 4 and just takes the walk to the bus stop - both boys are nuts - especially the little one. The parents are out of their mind. These kids are always out in the middle of the street, riding their bikes without helmets, the 6yr old has a skateboard and a ramp thing - and again no helmet, in fact I wouldn't be surprised if these kids light firecrackers too! Little Jose Gang-banger is nutty too, in that he is just a wild "boy". First Son on the other hand is much more mild mannered, not to say that he can't stir up a ruckus with the best of them.
This morning, as we approached the bus stop, we could see these boys running WILD. Running all around the street, chasing each other with sticks, and screaming! I called First Son over before we even got to the bus stop to have a quick chat. I told him " Remember, you are responsible for you. It doesn't matter what anybody else is doing. If other kids are being wild, that doesn't mean that you have to be wild too." He said "I know" So, we get to the corner and I say my good mornings to the oblivious parents, then set to watching the chaos unfold. These boys are body slamming one another, jumping on top of the tree stumps on the corner, then in order to keep their sticks safe from the other, throwing their bellies down on top of the stump and then piling on top of each other. They are laughing, and screaming as their parents stare off into space. My hair is standing on end. First Son is smirking to himself, to him, this looks like fun. Someone is about to get hurt, I am sure.
Just like the maniac motorcyclists who come up behind you on the parkway at 100mph, who cause the accident, but are never the ones in the accident, who is it that gets hurt this morning? That's right. First Son. Argh. He decides he can't take it anymore, he must be a part of this brouhaha that is unfolding before him. He starts to take off running behind the other boys, but he gets no farther that three steps before he falls, flat on his face. Then of course, there are tears. Seriously? Why can't people be more civilized at 7:30 in the morning?
I calm First Son down, wipe away his tears, tell him that he's okay. He says, can I try again? What!? No. I tell him, loud enough for the other parents and kids to hear, "I don't like running wild at the bus stop, it's not a good way to start the day. When you go to recess, or when you go to gym you get to run. Not now when you have a heavy back pack on your back, and there are cars driving nearby."
The poor kid wasn't even hurt that bad, I think he was just so embarrassed. He was embarrassed because he fell down in front of his friends, and I think he was embarrassed because he knew that he didn't make a good decision.
I love kids, I do. I just hate parents. Seriously, our corner is a pretty busy street traffic wise. What is wrong with these people? Tell your children to "stop it". If you don't I will. Actually, I think I may just start driving to school. That way we can all sleep a little later, and no one gets hurt. Keep looking for that For Sale sign, I really think it's gonna show up soon!
We share the corner with two other families, the aforementioned smokin at the bus stop Gang-bangers (although no more smoke) and another family I will call the Wild Rovers. The WR are an Irish American family with two boys, one in 1st grade and one who is 4 and just takes the walk to the bus stop - both boys are nuts - especially the little one. The parents are out of their mind. These kids are always out in the middle of the street, riding their bikes without helmets, the 6yr old has a skateboard and a ramp thing - and again no helmet, in fact I wouldn't be surprised if these kids light firecrackers too! Little Jose Gang-banger is nutty too, in that he is just a wild "boy". First Son on the other hand is much more mild mannered, not to say that he can't stir up a ruckus with the best of them.
This morning, as we approached the bus stop, we could see these boys running WILD. Running all around the street, chasing each other with sticks, and screaming! I called First Son over before we even got to the bus stop to have a quick chat. I told him " Remember, you are responsible for you. It doesn't matter what anybody else is doing. If other kids are being wild, that doesn't mean that you have to be wild too." He said "I know" So, we get to the corner and I say my good mornings to the oblivious parents, then set to watching the chaos unfold. These boys are body slamming one another, jumping on top of the tree stumps on the corner, then in order to keep their sticks safe from the other, throwing their bellies down on top of the stump and then piling on top of each other. They are laughing, and screaming as their parents stare off into space. My hair is standing on end. First Son is smirking to himself, to him, this looks like fun. Someone is about to get hurt, I am sure.
Just like the maniac motorcyclists who come up behind you on the parkway at 100mph, who cause the accident, but are never the ones in the accident, who is it that gets hurt this morning? That's right. First Son. Argh. He decides he can't take it anymore, he must be a part of this brouhaha that is unfolding before him. He starts to take off running behind the other boys, but he gets no farther that three steps before he falls, flat on his face. Then of course, there are tears. Seriously? Why can't people be more civilized at 7:30 in the morning?
I calm First Son down, wipe away his tears, tell him that he's okay. He says, can I try again? What!? No. I tell him, loud enough for the other parents and kids to hear, "I don't like running wild at the bus stop, it's not a good way to start the day. When you go to recess, or when you go to gym you get to run. Not now when you have a heavy back pack on your back, and there are cars driving nearby."
The poor kid wasn't even hurt that bad, I think he was just so embarrassed. He was embarrassed because he fell down in front of his friends, and I think he was embarrassed because he knew that he didn't make a good decision.
I love kids, I do. I just hate parents. Seriously, our corner is a pretty busy street traffic wise. What is wrong with these people? Tell your children to "stop it". If you don't I will. Actually, I think I may just start driving to school. That way we can all sleep a little later, and no one gets hurt. Keep looking for that For Sale sign, I really think it's gonna show up soon!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
A funny kid
Yesterday afternoon, in part to escape the frenzy of phone calls that followed my previous post, in part to try to soak in the beautiful autumn weather we were having, I packed the cherubs and mother in law into Rosie and headed to the park for a nature walk. We went to a lovely spot nearby with a very big pond and a nice wooded trail. As we approached the pond there were lots of water fowl, some were in the water, others were standing on the shore. There were a few Canadian geese who were standing just on the edge of the water staring intently out towards the pond. As we got closer First Son pointed and said "look Mom!" I said something like "oh yeah, look at all the geese" He then says - "I think they're the lifeguards."
First Son is one funny boy.
First Son is one funny boy.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Big News, small package
So, I know I haven't really been blogging much lately, but it isn't because there is nothing going on, quite the opposite in fact, there is a tremendous thing going on. Life changing events are unfolding. I am not quite sure how to deal with it, some days I am so full of joy and other days I am full of dread and then, inevitably guilt. It's a weighty issue. There are so many different levels of emotion involved, and I am just trying to work through them all. Even though I have done this four times already, this time I am thrown for a loop. This time is different.
I was hoping that before I sat down to blog on the subject I would have some clarity, I would be able to tap away at my keyboard and be articulate and eloquent about the situation I face. I have come to the realization that that might not happen for a long time, and that writing about it may be the only way for me to gain the clarity I so desire.
I AM PREGNANT. About 9 weeks. Due May 20th.
To quote First Son - "What the Heck!"
The thing is, I am a planner. I am always planning the next event even before they've played The Last Dance. If I don't have a plan I can't function. I need to know what I am doing now, and then after that, and after that. I carry my calendar with me everywhere so that I can make plans. This was not planned. Hubby and I have been pretty sure, no I'd say even more than pretty sure that we would someday want to have another child. What we didn't have however was a plan to do this now.
I did have a plan. I had plans to adjust to having three kids for a while. I had plans to adjust to having a kindergartner, getting used to PTA meetings and school bus dramas, and homework. I had planned a trip to Ireland at the end of May for my cousin's wedding. I planned on enjoying a sailboat/wine cruise around Manhattan and actually enjoying the wine. I had planned on having boundless energy this fall and completing lots of household projects. I had planned on having my body to myself for some time. I was pregnant for more than a year, minus one month in between my miscarriage and Paddy boy. My last pregnancy was tough because I had pregnancy induced bronchial asthma and gall bladder issues. I was planning to just be a Mom to the three little children who need me! I was not planning to do this now!
There's a lot of irony involved in this pregnancy. In the past (and definitely in the future) whenever anybody would ask me about my plans for future children I would always answer that it isn't really up to us, it's up to God. My reasoning for this response is because I am so acutely aware of the unfairness of maternity. Who gets to be a Mom easily and who has to suffer the indignities of infertility treatments or blighted pregnancies? Why are there so many good loving couples who would give anything to be able to welcome a sweet child into their arms and hearts struggling while there are teenage girls and drug addicts dumping their newborns into dumpsters?? This is not a question I can answer, and I won't try. I give it all to God because surely it rests in His hands only. And so, the irony is that my response has now become so true in my own experience. This pregnancy was not really up to me, it was God's doing.
Well, I am of course accepting of this child. I love this child already. I have seen the heartbeat. This child is part of me. I have a deep faith. I know that everything is going to be okay. I am going to be okay. My heart is full. My brain is full. I will find joy, and I will find hope. I will be writing much, much more on this subject. Now that the gate is open the flood waters will flow. Check back frequently, and say a prayer for me.
I was hoping that before I sat down to blog on the subject I would have some clarity, I would be able to tap away at my keyboard and be articulate and eloquent about the situation I face. I have come to the realization that that might not happen for a long time, and that writing about it may be the only way for me to gain the clarity I so desire.
I AM PREGNANT. About 9 weeks. Due May 20th.
To quote First Son - "What the Heck!"
The thing is, I am a planner. I am always planning the next event even before they've played The Last Dance. If I don't have a plan I can't function. I need to know what I am doing now, and then after that, and after that. I carry my calendar with me everywhere so that I can make plans. This was not planned. Hubby and I have been pretty sure, no I'd say even more than pretty sure that we would someday want to have another child. What we didn't have however was a plan to do this now.
I did have a plan. I had plans to adjust to having three kids for a while. I had plans to adjust to having a kindergartner, getting used to PTA meetings and school bus dramas, and homework. I had planned a trip to Ireland at the end of May for my cousin's wedding. I planned on enjoying a sailboat/wine cruise around Manhattan and actually enjoying the wine. I had planned on having boundless energy this fall and completing lots of household projects. I had planned on having my body to myself for some time. I was pregnant for more than a year, minus one month in between my miscarriage and Paddy boy. My last pregnancy was tough because I had pregnancy induced bronchial asthma and gall bladder issues. I was planning to just be a Mom to the three little children who need me! I was not planning to do this now!
There's a lot of irony involved in this pregnancy. In the past (and definitely in the future) whenever anybody would ask me about my plans for future children I would always answer that it isn't really up to us, it's up to God. My reasoning for this response is because I am so acutely aware of the unfairness of maternity. Who gets to be a Mom easily and who has to suffer the indignities of infertility treatments or blighted pregnancies? Why are there so many good loving couples who would give anything to be able to welcome a sweet child into their arms and hearts struggling while there are teenage girls and drug addicts dumping their newborns into dumpsters?? This is not a question I can answer, and I won't try. I give it all to God because surely it rests in His hands only. And so, the irony is that my response has now become so true in my own experience. This pregnancy was not really up to me, it was God's doing.
Well, I am of course accepting of this child. I love this child already. I have seen the heartbeat. This child is part of me. I have a deep faith. I know that everything is going to be okay. I am going to be okay. My heart is full. My brain is full. I will find joy, and I will find hope. I will be writing much, much more on this subject. Now that the gate is open the flood waters will flow. Check back frequently, and say a prayer for me.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Spectacles
There's the bit about First Son and his spectacles. First Son got eyeglasses last year. He needs to wear them when he is reading, writing, coloring or doing any kind of close-up play such as puzzles, or trains, etc. Basically, he needs to wear them when he goes to school.
Well, the first full day of school (which is also the first day that he rode the bus home with 1st graders) he comes home and starts throwing a fit, throwing his glasses around. He's never shown any hostility toward his glasses before, but he does sometimes have trouble communicating his needs when he is tired and/or hungry. So, we figured that this was just the manifestation of his exhaustion from being away from home for a full 7 hours. We got him some protein and some rest. Things calmed down.
A few days later First Son tells me that there is a kid on the bus who wants to fight him for his glasses. WHAT!? Who is it? What's His name? (where does he live, I am going to kill the little maggot!) Of course he doesn't know the kid's name. I am incensed. I am totally unprepared for this type of situation. I try to get more information from First Son, but he doesn't give things up easily. OK, we tell him that he should tell this person to "LEAVE ME ALONE" and then of course, to tell Mommy & Daddy if it happens again. (So that I can hunt the little maggot down and crush him).
Things continue on uneventfully for a little while. Then, First Son starts getting off the school bus without his eyeglasses on his head. "Where are your glasses!!" ( you know, the eyeglasses that you have to wear -or else I am a bad parent - the ones that cost $150, which is $150 more than I have to replace them with if I had to right now! - I am going to have to stand on a street corner and sell my body just so that I don't send my son off to school de-spectacled like a bad parent - those eyeglasses!) He tells me that he has decided to take them off, because then the bully doesn't bother him, he's even a little bit nice. First Son put his glasses in the case in his schoolbag. Oh, okay. Well, I figure, at least he is figuring out solutions to his problems, he is coping. I take this as a good thing. Until...
One day last week First Son gets off the school bus sans glasses, only this time they are not in his case! He doesn't know where they are. We search the schoolbag, the lunch bag - nothing. We search the house top to bottom - nothing. I send a note to the teacher asking her to check the lost and found - nothing. I am starting to panic - I am about to slip on my fishnets...then we ask the bus driver (duh - why didn't I do that first??) - glasses found. Hooray, fishnets, back to the back of the closet! But wait...more drama...
The bus pulls up in the afternoon , and the bus driver tells hubby that there is another child on the bus trying to fight First Son for his glasses! The driver had a talk with the kid, but he wanted to let us know in case it "comes up". "Comes Up"? First Son is on the verge of tears, quiver lip and all. I give him a big hug, assure him that he is NOT in trouble and ask him to please tell me what happened. The kid was kicking him! Suddenly I am channeling Miss Hannigan "Kill, kill, kill." We determine who the kid is and try to develop a plan of action. First Son says that yes, he would like me to talk to Stephen's Mom (yep, that's a real name - I have no interest in protecting minors if said minors are guilty of harassing my kids!) I call my neighbor who shares the bus stop with the culprit to ask her what she knows about the little delinquent. She is actually quite surprised to hear about this but then tells me that I probably won't get anywhere with the parents since...I took French in high school when I should have taken Spanish! Argh.
That night, first Son is awake in the middle of the night for about 2 hours because he is having nightmares that someone is putting stuff in his eyes!! Oh I could seriously hurt someone. How dare you torture my kid like this?? First Son goes into school late the next day because I let him sleep after the nightmares. That afternoon and since he says there have been no problems on the bus. Maybe the bus driver has taken care of it, but I don't know. I just don't understand how this happens, these kids are kindergartners and first graders, how do they even know how to be so mean?
Well, if it happens again I have decided that I will go knock on these people's door. I will just bring my gang banger friend from down the block (who doesn't smoke at the bus stop anymore, BTW) with me! Oh I am so mad!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Reflections on 8 years
Tuesday was our wedding anniversary. It's hard to believe, but it has been 8 years since I made the long walk down the aisle with Hubby. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. We celebrated the day quietly, but perfectly. First, Hubby took the day off of work which was great. We got First son off on the school bus and then dropped the remaining cherubs at their grandparents house. We went to breakfast and then headed down to the beach. It was a beautiful day, and it was such a luxury to be able to go to the beach and not have to lug a million things. All we brought was a blanket and some sweatshirts. We lazed on the beach for a while, listening to the waves crash and actually having a conversation! It was pure indulgence. We took a long walk along the shore, till just before the nude beach (yuck). Then we went shopping for ingredients to make a nice dinner. We bought the kids TV dinners - a treat, since they've never had them ever before, and hubby even let them have ice cream for dessert! Then he tucked them away in bed while I set to creating a masterpiece menu. We had arugula with herbed goat cheese for a first course, then chicken saltimbocca and asparagus risotto for dinner. For dessert, a lovely peanut butter and chocolate tart that we picked up at the local bakery. All in all it was a heavenly day.
Reflecting on the past eight years, I realize that I am one lucky girl. I am still very much in love, with my very best friend. Hubby and I have been through a lot, much of it good, but some of it very bad. The thing is that we made it through together. We can take on anything at this point. My Hubby is funny (he especially thinks so); and he's smart; he's an incredible Dad (no, really - he has been known to take all three cherubs to the beach - by himself!); he is always there for me, whether I need a weather report, a bug extermination, or a recipe conversion; he is strong for me when I can't be for myself, and he always offers up some perspective when I think I've gotten myself into a corner. We share the same dreams (some people think we're building a soccer team, actually, it's a restaurant staff!). I don't know where I'd be without him. (Hollywood?, Broadway?) I look forward to the next eight years. I love you Hubby!
Reflecting on the past eight years, I realize that I am one lucky girl. I am still very much in love, with my very best friend. Hubby and I have been through a lot, much of it good, but some of it very bad. The thing is that we made it through together. We can take on anything at this point. My Hubby is funny (he especially thinks so); and he's smart; he's an incredible Dad (no, really - he has been known to take all three cherubs to the beach - by himself!); he is always there for me, whether I need a weather report, a bug extermination, or a recipe conversion; he is strong for me when I can't be for myself, and he always offers up some perspective when I think I've gotten myself into a corner. We share the same dreams (some people think we're building a soccer team, actually, it's a restaurant staff!). I don't know where I'd be without him. (Hollywood?, Broadway?) I look forward to the next eight years. I love you Hubby!
Monday, September 24, 2007
Mama's Eggs
I work at this neat little hole in the wall luncheonette/coffee shop every Sunday. The place seats a total of 22 people, including 10 counter seats, and the grill is right out in the open. From the looks of it, you'd expect nothing more than your typical greasy spoon, slinging eggs and hash. On the contrary, the cook/owner is a certified chef and former culinary instructor, with a four star resume. He puts up breakfast specials that are absolutely gourmet. This place is a gem, and I love working there in part because the money is great for 1 day's work, but also because I am a foodie and I learn and taste something new every time I walk through the door.
For the past few weeks we've had a special on the board, "Mama's Eggs". It is two eggs poached in marinara sauce, served with half a loaf of Italian bread and a slab of butter. It is amazing! The marinara sauce is incredible, and the addition of the eggs is brilliant. One of our regular customers is the chef's brother. He came in, looked at the specials board and asked "What's Mama's Eggs?" Chef looked at him (with a knife in his hand) and said "What are you kidding me? They're eggs the way Mom used to make them!" Of course he has been in practically every day ordering them. One day he even brought in two friends and his own loaf of bread!
This has got me thinking about the sentimental connections we have to food. Food is so much more than sustenance. Food connects us to the people we love whether they are here to share in the meal with us or not. For myself and my brothers and sisters food presents a strong connection to our late father. Sauerbraten, halvah, eggplant parmesan, Sabretts, Cheez Waffies, pea soup, Necco Wafers, Cheez Whiz and Ritz Crackers, Chef Boy-ar-dee, corned beef hash, Campbell's Tomato Soup, cream cheese & jelly, and black jelly beans. I can't eat, buy or even see any of these and not be instantly transported to some memory involving my Dad, they were his favorites right along with Schmidt's Beer and the occasional Cutty Sark. These foods are worth so much more to me than what their Nutritional Information label reveals. For me, a meal or a snack made up of these foods is like stealing time, an extra moment with Dad. Honestly, popping open a jar of Cheez Whiz may not be the best thing for my waistline, but it is a whole lot easier on my wallet than ten minutes with a psychic medium!
For the past few weeks we've had a special on the board, "Mama's Eggs". It is two eggs poached in marinara sauce, served with half a loaf of Italian bread and a slab of butter. It is amazing! The marinara sauce is incredible, and the addition of the eggs is brilliant. One of our regular customers is the chef's brother. He came in, looked at the specials board and asked "What's Mama's Eggs?" Chef looked at him (with a knife in his hand) and said "What are you kidding me? They're eggs the way Mom used to make them!" Of course he has been in practically every day ordering them. One day he even brought in two friends and his own loaf of bread!
This has got me thinking about the sentimental connections we have to food. Food is so much more than sustenance. Food connects us to the people we love whether they are here to share in the meal with us or not. For myself and my brothers and sisters food presents a strong connection to our late father. Sauerbraten, halvah, eggplant parmesan, Sabretts, Cheez Waffies, pea soup, Necco Wafers, Cheez Whiz and Ritz Crackers, Chef Boy-ar-dee, corned beef hash, Campbell's Tomato Soup, cream cheese & jelly, and black jelly beans. I can't eat, buy or even see any of these and not be instantly transported to some memory involving my Dad, they were his favorites right along with Schmidt's Beer and the occasional Cutty Sark. These foods are worth so much more to me than what their Nutritional Information label reveals. For me, a meal or a snack made up of these foods is like stealing time, an extra moment with Dad. Honestly, popping open a jar of Cheez Whiz may not be the best thing for my waistline, but it is a whole lot easier on my wallet than ten minutes with a psychic medium!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Smoking at the Bus Stop- Seriously??
Seven days of school, and already I have a queasy feeling in my gut. The cause of my ojeda?Smoking at the bus stop. Seriously? With your 6 year old standing right there? I am incensed! First of all, I take issue with smoking period. I don't understand how anyone under the age of 70 could be that stupid. (That's right, you are stupid!) There is no excuse for it. I will give a little leniency to recovering drug addicts and alcoholics who need to have a lesser evil, but even they should not be smoking on the bus stop for crying out loud.
So, there is this guy, dare I call him a "dad"? who each morning is standing at the bus stop (did I mention it's a bus stop for kindergartners and first graders?) puffing away on his cancer stick. What to do??? Well, I don't want to get into an argument with the guy in front of the kids, so I kind of just stand back for a few days, figuring that once First Son is safely on the bus I can have a peaceful, grown-up chat with Joe Camel. Not so much, as an added show of concern for the well being of his offspring, Mr. Camel leaves the bus stop as soon as he sees the bus approaching. Argh. I mentioned it to the school principal last night at the PTA meeting, hoping she would be able to do something, but of course she cannot offer me anything more than a simple "thank you for being concerned." (Thank me? for being concerned? about my child?- there's a whole 'nother post.)
The other concern is, I don't want to piss this guy off, since he knows where I live - the bus stop is right in front of mi casa, and make him gather up his gang banger friends to come throw machetes in my backyard-again. I figure, I am going to have to see this guy at the bus stop every day for the rest of the year, so, I don't want to make an enemy. At the same time, I need to say something, because not only is his smoking posing a health hazard for me and my children, but it is undermining the values I am trying to teach them as well. My friend SBW, she is a vigilante. She tells anyone and everyone exactly what they are doing wrong in her eyes. On one hand, I admire her for being gutsy, on the other hand I don't want to be like her, because she isn't always the most tactful, and I think she pisses more people off than she rehabilitates.
I decide that I will take the "get more bees with honey" approach. I will say it with a smile. Today, I go to the bus stop a few minutes early, and there he is only...no cigarette! Is this a victory, or was he just between smokes? Methinks the latter. I walk right up with my bedhead and smeared mascara (it is 7:30 AM, and let's face it I live in a 9AM world) , smile and say, "good morning, I am sorry I didn't get you name, I met your wife last week." He says "Jose" I said " Hi Jose, I am Patricia, nice to meet you." " He smiles, then turns back to searching for the elusive yellow wagon. Jose Jr. pipes up "My Mom is not his wife". Shocking!
So tomorrow, my new friend Jose and I can have a friendly chat - I mean, we are on a first name basis now and all. I will smile politely and say " I don't mean to put you on the defensive, and you probably don't even realize it's a problem, but do you think you might be able to wait a few minutes until the bus pulls away before you light up?" Thanks Jose.
If that doesn't work, look for the FOR SALE sign on my lawn. We just don't fit in in this neighborhood.
So, there is this guy, dare I call him a "dad"? who each morning is standing at the bus stop (did I mention it's a bus stop for kindergartners and first graders?) puffing away on his cancer stick. What to do??? Well, I don't want to get into an argument with the guy in front of the kids, so I kind of just stand back for a few days, figuring that once First Son is safely on the bus I can have a peaceful, grown-up chat with Joe Camel. Not so much, as an added show of concern for the well being of his offspring, Mr. Camel leaves the bus stop as soon as he sees the bus approaching. Argh. I mentioned it to the school principal last night at the PTA meeting, hoping she would be able to do something, but of course she cannot offer me anything more than a simple "thank you for being concerned." (Thank me? for being concerned? about my child?- there's a whole 'nother post.)
The other concern is, I don't want to piss this guy off, since he knows where I live - the bus stop is right in front of mi casa, and make him gather up his gang banger friends to come throw machetes in my backyard-again. I figure, I am going to have to see this guy at the bus stop every day for the rest of the year, so, I don't want to make an enemy. At the same time, I need to say something, because not only is his smoking posing a health hazard for me and my children, but it is undermining the values I am trying to teach them as well. My friend SBW, she is a vigilante. She tells anyone and everyone exactly what they are doing wrong in her eyes. On one hand, I admire her for being gutsy, on the other hand I don't want to be like her, because she isn't always the most tactful, and I think she pisses more people off than she rehabilitates.
I decide that I will take the "get more bees with honey" approach. I will say it with a smile. Today, I go to the bus stop a few minutes early, and there he is only...no cigarette! Is this a victory, or was he just between smokes? Methinks the latter. I walk right up with my bedhead and smeared mascara (it is 7:30 AM, and let's face it I live in a 9AM world) , smile and say, "good morning, I am sorry I didn't get you name, I met your wife last week." He says "Jose" I said " Hi Jose, I am Patricia, nice to meet you." " He smiles, then turns back to searching for the elusive yellow wagon. Jose Jr. pipes up "My Mom is not his wife". Shocking!
So tomorrow, my new friend Jose and I can have a friendly chat - I mean, we are on a first name basis now and all. I will smile politely and say " I don't mean to put you on the defensive, and you probably don't even realize it's a problem, but do you think you might be able to wait a few minutes until the bus pulls away before you light up?" Thanks Jose.
If that doesn't work, look for the FOR SALE sign on my lawn. We just don't fit in in this neighborhood.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
God Bless America
While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,
Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free,
Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,
As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer.
God bless America, land that I love
Stand beside her and guide her
Through the night with the light from above
From the mountains To the prairies,
To the ocean white with foam
God bless America, My home sweet home.
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Today, like every September 11th since 2001, is a somber day. I tried to watch on TV, as the names of the victims were being read, but Curly kept whining at me to put on her show, and anyway, I was afraid I'd have to explain the tears that I could not hold back, and I don't know how to do that, so I shut the TV off altogether. First Son's school is marking the day today, by making patriotic pinwheels and planting them around the school. Theirs is the first class in the school who were not even born when the tragedy occurred (although several of them I am sure were conceived in the days and weeks following). I wonder what FS will have to say about it when he comes home, I wonder how I will respond. These are the days when I know that it is easier to be the parent of a baby, than it is of a child who walks, talks and thinks. Once they start to think, they can be afraid and confused. As a parent it is my job to ease their fears, to help them work through their confusion. I don't know how to do that today, I am sometimes still afraid and I am confused. What I do know, is that I live in the greatest country in the world, regardless of any mistakes our nation may or may not make. What I know is that I , and my husband were both blessed to have parents who were brave enough, and strong enough to leave their homes to come to this country so that we, and our children could fully enjoy all of our freedoms. What I also know is that those Freedoms do not come for free.
I will teach my children to love, and respect and bring honor to their country. I will teach them that they must fight for and protect their freedoms. And I will teach them that no matter what, they are American, something of which they are to be fiercely proud, just as my father taught me to be. God Bless America.
I will teach my children to love, and respect and bring honor to their country. I will teach them that they must fight for and protect their freedoms. And I will teach them that no matter what, they are American, something of which they are to be fiercely proud, just as my father taught me to be. God Bless America.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
There were doubts but...
We did it. We survived the first day of school (we, because I deserve at least as much credit as First Son). And with flying colors, I might add. It wasn't easy getting up and having everything ready, since we had just gotten home from Disney at 9PM the night before, but we did it. First son climbed right up the steps of the bus and waved back to us with a great big smile. I waited until the bus pulled away and then broke down sobbing, as was my right. I did NOT, however, get in my car and follow the school bus, which is more than I can say for some of my neighbors. Yeah! me! My little baby boy, who just 5 years and one month ago was cradled safe and snug in my arms, is now out in the world, without me. It is hard to believe it, because it really does go by so fast. That is what everybody (especially older people) tells you when you are a parent of young children, "enjoy it, it goes so fast" It really does.
For the past five years my little guy has been by my side every single day. All of a sudden I see him for half an hour in the morning and then boom, he's off on the yellow wagon till the dredges of the afternoon roll around. By ten in the morning I looked at hubby and said " I am so lonely". So, I baked a cake. It came out pretty good too, at least I think so. (come on stroke my ego a little, I could use it)
First son had a great time at school, where he was greeted by his favorite stuffed animal, Super Bear (his real name!) His teacher is nice, Hubby and I went up and met her in the afternoon, and I have filled out the form to become "class mother". I will know in a few days if I get it or not. So, first PTA meeting is set for 9/17. As I said, once I made the decision to go ahead with the public school thing I would jump in with both feet. Whee!
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Saturday, August 25, 2007
Tower of babble
Things change pretty quickly around here. I mean, with three little ones, the littlest being very little, (and when I say little, I by no means mean small) they are always changing and growing and learning. No two days are the same. Poor hubby has been away most of the month, stopping home to sleep about once a week before jetting off again, and unfortunately he has missed a lot. For instance:
Paddy boy talks. Yes, that is crazy. No, I am not crazy. Well, at least not for this reason anyway.
Seriously, in the past I have talked to Moms who have told me that their own cherubs were talking at 7, 8, 9 months old. I have always smiled politely and nodded, then as soon as the coast was clear, rolled my eyes to holy heaven and had a good laugh. "I mean really lady, we all think our babies are geniuses, but don't you think, just maybe you are looking a little too far into the baby babble for meaning? "
Trust me, I have two children who can form complete sentences and one who is even beginning to grasp the nuances of sarcasm -, I know that talking children are nothing to get excited about! Talking children quickly learn to talk back, to be fresh, to question your authority! (why mommy?) - the best parenting advice I ever got, but of course, failed to heed, was "don't teach him to talk". That said, now, I have an 8 month old baby who talks! Really.
At 8 1/2 months of age, Paddy Boy says - in appropriate circumstances - "Mommy", "Grandma", "First Son" and yesterday morning, when I handed him a matchbox car to occupy him while I was changing his diaper, "Car". I thought I had my hands full with Curly, I have a feeling that I haven't seen anything yet!
Did I mention that he also crawls 100mph and stands up?
Paddy boy talks. Yes, that is crazy. No, I am not crazy. Well, at least not for this reason anyway.
Seriously, in the past I have talked to Moms who have told me that their own cherubs were talking at 7, 8, 9 months old. I have always smiled politely and nodded, then as soon as the coast was clear, rolled my eyes to holy heaven and had a good laugh. "I mean really lady, we all think our babies are geniuses, but don't you think, just maybe you are looking a little too far into the baby babble for meaning? "
Trust me, I have two children who can form complete sentences and one who is even beginning to grasp the nuances of sarcasm -, I know that talking children are nothing to get excited about! Talking children quickly learn to talk back, to be fresh, to question your authority! (why mommy?) - the best parenting advice I ever got, but of course, failed to heed, was "don't teach him to talk". That said, now, I have an 8 month old baby who talks! Really.
At 8 1/2 months of age, Paddy Boy says - in appropriate circumstances - "Mommy", "Grandma", "First Son" and yesterday morning, when I handed him a matchbox car to occupy him while I was changing his diaper, "Car". I thought I had my hands full with Curly, I have a feeling that I haven't seen anything yet!
Did I mention that he also crawls 100mph and stands up?
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Aren't you curious?
Where have I been!!??
I ask myself this. The thing is that Hubby has been spending more time this month in FLA than at home. August 2007 and I am essentially a single parent! I am not really crying tears in my chicken soup though, I have perspective on this, it's just that I don't have time to blog.
Anyway I thought I would just log on quickly tonight to share the news that you may have been waiting for....
It is official...
First Son is going to kindergarten.
We have made our decision and I am now 100% on board, PTA and the whole bit. That is not to say that on September 5th I am not going to be having a serious mental breakdown, but I promised my friend Karen (another MrsP, seems there are a lot of us) - that I will NOT follow the bus.
So, do me a favor and say a prayer for me, and for First Son. Oh yeah, throw one in for Mrs. Hayes too, she has no idea what she's in for!! Ha ha.
I ask myself this. The thing is that Hubby has been spending more time this month in FLA than at home. August 2007 and I am essentially a single parent! I am not really crying tears in my chicken soup though, I have perspective on this, it's just that I don't have time to blog.
Anyway I thought I would just log on quickly tonight to share the news that you may have been waiting for....
It is official...
First Son is going to kindergarten.
We have made our decision and I am now 100% on board, PTA and the whole bit. That is not to say that on September 5th I am not going to be having a serious mental breakdown, but I promised my friend Karen (another MrsP, seems there are a lot of us) - that I will NOT follow the bus.
So, do me a favor and say a prayer for me, and for First Son. Oh yeah, throw one in for Mrs. Hayes too, she has no idea what she's in for!! Ha ha.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Mom, you're a Hippo
First son and I have this silly game that we love to play. He will say "Mom, you're a Hippo." I will then feign indignation (because really, the term "hippo" - not so complimentary), and I will grab him and squeeze him, then refuse to let him go until he proclaims, through giggles, "Mom, you're not a Hippo, you're my Mommy and I love you"I can't believe my sweet baby boy is almost 5!
Not sleeping
I must confess, I am not sleeping well at night. Paddy boy has little to do with it. I have something on my mind and it is BIG. Hubby and I are thinking about keeping First Son home from Kindergarten. Homeschooling him. I think about it all the time, I read books, I search the web, and mostly I lie awake in bed at night. I feel like I don't really have anyone to talk to about this besides Hubby, and it is almost the only thing we do talk about. I wish there were someone else whom I could bounce my ideas off of, someone who could help me make this decision.
The thing is that where we live, homeschooling is, well, weird. My family thinks I am crazy, although they have been very nice and respectful, as I requested in an earlier post, but I know they think it is weird. My friends are all so excited about sending their own cherubs off, that they couldn't possibly understand why I wouldn't want to. I don't blame these people for their attitudes, because not that long ago I too would have said - "what are you crazy?" I would never have thought that I would be the type to even consider homeschooling, and yet here I am. There also isn't any one pivotal moment either, this is an idea that has developed over time, I guess the past 5 years.
1.WHY should I send First Son to public Kindergarten?
The thing is that where we live, homeschooling is, well, weird. My family thinks I am crazy, although they have been very nice and respectful, as I requested in an earlier post, but I know they think it is weird. My friends are all so excited about sending their own cherubs off, that they couldn't possibly understand why I wouldn't want to. I don't blame these people for their attitudes, because not that long ago I too would have said - "what are you crazy?" I would never have thought that I would be the type to even consider homeschooling, and yet here I am. There also isn't any one pivotal moment either, this is an idea that has developed over time, I guess the past 5 years.
I have thought about the idea that if this were the right decision, it wouldn't be so hard to make, but when I think about just sending him off to kindergarten, I don't get excited about that either.
The kindergarten bus will be outside my door in a little over a month. I am feeling the pressure to make this decision. Maybe if it weren't full-day kindergarten I would feel better, but it is full day, so there is no room for "maybe". I am leaning toward keeping him with me and teaching him myself. What is holding me back? I think it is peer pressure, society pressure. I don't usually give in to that kind of pressure. Do I? Well, I do have that Vera Bradley bag. Hmmmm.
There are just so many wonderful things about homeschooling, and I can't list even half as many on the opposite subject, public schooling. Still, I am hesitating. Why?
Here it is, an open question, I welcome your comments on the following:
The kindergarten bus will be outside my door in a little over a month. I am feeling the pressure to make this decision. Maybe if it weren't full-day kindergarten I would feel better, but it is full day, so there is no room for "maybe". I am leaning toward keeping him with me and teaching him myself. What is holding me back? I think it is peer pressure, society pressure. I don't usually give in to that kind of pressure. Do I? Well, I do have that Vera Bradley bag. Hmmmm.
There are just so many wonderful things about homeschooling, and I can't list even half as many on the opposite subject, public schooling. Still, I am hesitating. Why?
Here it is, an open question, I welcome your comments on the following:
please respond in the comments section, and please do not be "anonymous"
1.WHY should I send First Son to public Kindergarten?
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Bambi isn't just a Disney Character
I wasn't going to do this, I thought about it, but I wasn't going to do this. Now, you made me do this!
At dinner the other night I heard a tale about an old flame of Mr. DD. Of course he's madly in love with my good friend DD, even after 18? years of marriage (lots of softball), but he clearly has a soft spot for his old flame. Her name was Bambi. I know, I know what you're thinking, but there was a really good reason that her mother named her Bambi. Bambi's mother was involved in a terrible auto accident while she was pregnant, she almost lost her own life, and the life of her unborn daughter. It seems that there is a biblical/Hebrew meaning for the word Bambi - "miracle of God". Bambi seemed the most fitting name in the situation.
You may be wondering what happened in the accident. It was rather tragic. She was driving down the highway late at night and...she hit a deer.
My lawyers are on vacation.
At dinner the other night I heard a tale about an old flame of Mr. DD. Of course he's madly in love with my good friend DD, even after 18? years of marriage (lots of softball), but he clearly has a soft spot for his old flame. Her name was Bambi. I know, I know what you're thinking, but there was a really good reason that her mother named her Bambi. Bambi's mother was involved in a terrible auto accident while she was pregnant, she almost lost her own life, and the life of her unborn daughter. It seems that there is a biblical/Hebrew meaning for the word Bambi - "miracle of God". Bambi seemed the most fitting name in the situation.
You may be wondering what happened in the accident. It was rather tragic. She was driving down the highway late at night and...she hit a deer.
My lawyers are on vacation.
A snooze button
Wow. It seems I have a stalker, er, fan. A few days go by without a post, and suddenly my inbox is full of people (er, person) demanding that I get back to the blog! Relax Jack'sMom, here I am.
The reason I have been away is because I have been concentrating on getting my family into the new routine I outlined in a previous post. It is working quite nicely too, with just a few kinks needing to be ironed out. For instance, now that the cherubs all go to bed nice and early they now wake up...nice and early. I know, I know, that was the point. However, now that they get up early, I have to get up early! Argh. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't do early. (whoever coined the phrase "nice" and early was a moron)For the past five years I have arranged for my whole brood to not stir before 8AM, I don't accept calls before 9AM, this is widely known. Now, I have painted myself into a corner, so to speak. I want and need the cherubs in bed early, so therefore I must adjust to waking up at 6:30AM.
Last night I decided I would retire early myself. I was in my bed at 8PM - but then I started reading. The book I was reading is marvelous, and I couldn't put it down until 10PM. Then, to sweeten things, it seems that Paddy Boy is now teething boy. (About time, he's 8 mos. old as of Friday and he has no fangs!) He was up multiple times during the night and he was quite inconsolable unless I was running my finger across his gums. (I should have had a little Jameson on my finger, I know) Curly girl then got up and decided to come into our room. Before you know it, hubby's alarm was going off, and there was first son staring me in the face asking "what are we going to do today Mom? Argh. Why don't kids come with a snooze button?
The reason for beginning this early to bed scheme is that the kindergarten bus comes at 7:30AM, which means that First son needs to be up between 6:30 and 6:45, in order to have a healthy breakfast and start his day. The kicker is that we are now considering starting the whole homeschooling thing this year, and not sending him to kindergarten. Alas, nothing has been decided yet and so I must err on the side of caution and get his bones and mine - ready to go - "nice and early".
The reason I have been away is because I have been concentrating on getting my family into the new routine I outlined in a previous post. It is working quite nicely too, with just a few kinks needing to be ironed out. For instance, now that the cherubs all go to bed nice and early they now wake up...nice and early. I know, I know, that was the point. However, now that they get up early, I have to get up early! Argh. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't do early. (whoever coined the phrase "nice" and early was a moron)For the past five years I have arranged for my whole brood to not stir before 8AM, I don't accept calls before 9AM, this is widely known. Now, I have painted myself into a corner, so to speak. I want and need the cherubs in bed early, so therefore I must adjust to waking up at 6:30AM.
Last night I decided I would retire early myself. I was in my bed at 8PM - but then I started reading. The book I was reading is marvelous, and I couldn't put it down until 10PM. Then, to sweeten things, it seems that Paddy Boy is now teething boy. (About time, he's 8 mos. old as of Friday and he has no fangs!) He was up multiple times during the night and he was quite inconsolable unless I was running my finger across his gums. (I should have had a little Jameson on my finger, I know) Curly girl then got up and decided to come into our room. Before you know it, hubby's alarm was going off, and there was first son staring me in the face asking "what are we going to do today Mom? Argh. Why don't kids come with a snooze button?
The reason for beginning this early to bed scheme is that the kindergarten bus comes at 7:30AM, which means that First son needs to be up between 6:30 and 6:45, in order to have a healthy breakfast and start his day. The kicker is that we are now considering starting the whole homeschooling thing this year, and not sending him to kindergarten. Alas, nothing has been decided yet and so I must err on the side of caution and get his bones and mine - ready to go - "nice and early".
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Much Better Today
Ok, So yesterdays post was a little, um, well, let's just say emotional. Today was much better. It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do for ya! That, plus the hours I spent agonizing over ways to improve the outcome of my days. Here's some of what I have come up with:
1. Schedule - it is imperative that we implement and adhere to (is that redundant?) a schedule, one for the mornings, one for the evenings. Well, hubby and I have already discussed and begun implementing an evening routine, because we need to get First son and his mother ready to catch that 7:30 am bus that will be pulling up out front in a little over a month!
Dinner is at 6PM or earlier, but not later. Immediately following dinner are baths. 10 minute time limit in the tub, and hair washing is mandatory. Upstairs, jammied, and reading a story by 7PM, asleep by 7:30. So far, it's going ok, with the exception of asleep by 7:30, but I know that that will come with time. We really have to be strict with ourselves about keeping this schedule with very little exception. Especially in the beginning.
Today I started a morning "routine" which consists of, bathroom (my kids esp, Curly, need to be reminded to go to the bathroom), breakfast, fang scrubbing, clothes, make beds/straighten-up bedroom. Then, Mom's errands, which leaves the rest of the day open for playing. Since this was only the first day I can't comment on progress yet!
2. Nutrition - Usually we are pretty good with eating a balanced diet and not letting the kids have too much sugar, but it needs to be more of a priority. I find that first son especially is a little off kilter when he hasn't eaten properly. Yesterday he had a bag of Goldfish for breakfast, ice cream for lunch (at VBS,- I wouldn't have given him ice cream for lunch!), and a bowl of honey nut cheerios for snack - (at a friend's - I don't stock sugar cereal) - so no wonder that by the time dinner rolled around he was off the wall! Today was much better - He had a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of OJ before VBS, then a Jelly sandwich on WW (is mine the only kid on the planet who doesn't like PB?), a plum, some apple juice, an ice cream bar ( hey, we were at the pool, and he had eaten his whole lunch, plus fruit!) Then I have implemented another new part of our schedule - the 4:30PM snack - today it was 1/4 of a green pepper and some baby carrots with ranch dip. Both kids gobbled it up and then - miracle - did not bug me every two minutes till dinner that they were "hungy". Extra bonus - they then ate their whole dinners - MacNCheese, chicken spring roll, and green beans with a big old glass of milk! Curly even asked for seconds! In sharp contrast to yesterday, today I may actually qualify for MOTY, I count 5 servings of fruit/veg!
3. No computer for Mom until after the kids are asleep! - this one is tough, but it will probably make a big difference.
4. Get Hubby on board for all of the above! Good thing he checks my blog frequently!
This isn't everything, but it is a start. I mean the one thing I definitely figured out yesterday is that some changes need to be made. I don't want to have to call Nanny Jo to come fix my problems!
1. Schedule - it is imperative that we implement and adhere to (is that redundant?) a schedule, one for the mornings, one for the evenings. Well, hubby and I have already discussed and begun implementing an evening routine, because we need to get First son and his mother ready to catch that 7:30 am bus that will be pulling up out front in a little over a month!
Dinner is at 6PM or earlier, but not later. Immediately following dinner are baths. 10 minute time limit in the tub, and hair washing is mandatory. Upstairs, jammied, and reading a story by 7PM, asleep by 7:30. So far, it's going ok, with the exception of asleep by 7:30, but I know that that will come with time. We really have to be strict with ourselves about keeping this schedule with very little exception. Especially in the beginning.
Today I started a morning "routine" which consists of, bathroom (my kids esp, Curly, need to be reminded to go to the bathroom), breakfast, fang scrubbing, clothes, make beds/straighten-up bedroom. Then, Mom's errands, which leaves the rest of the day open for playing. Since this was only the first day I can't comment on progress yet!
2. Nutrition - Usually we are pretty good with eating a balanced diet and not letting the kids have too much sugar, but it needs to be more of a priority. I find that first son especially is a little off kilter when he hasn't eaten properly. Yesterday he had a bag of Goldfish for breakfast, ice cream for lunch (at VBS,- I wouldn't have given him ice cream for lunch!), and a bowl of honey nut cheerios for snack - (at a friend's - I don't stock sugar cereal) - so no wonder that by the time dinner rolled around he was off the wall! Today was much better - He had a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of OJ before VBS, then a Jelly sandwich on WW (is mine the only kid on the planet who doesn't like PB?), a plum, some apple juice, an ice cream bar ( hey, we were at the pool, and he had eaten his whole lunch, plus fruit!) Then I have implemented another new part of our schedule - the 4:30PM snack - today it was 1/4 of a green pepper and some baby carrots with ranch dip. Both kids gobbled it up and then - miracle - did not bug me every two minutes till dinner that they were "hungy". Extra bonus - they then ate their whole dinners - MacNCheese, chicken spring roll, and green beans with a big old glass of milk! Curly even asked for seconds! In sharp contrast to yesterday, today I may actually qualify for MOTY, I count 5 servings of fruit/veg!
3. No computer for Mom until after the kids are asleep! - this one is tough, but it will probably make a big difference.
4. Get Hubby on board for all of the above! Good thing he checks my blog frequently!
This isn't everything, but it is a start. I mean the one thing I definitely figured out yesterday is that some changes need to be made. I don't want to have to call Nanny Jo to come fix my problems!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Woe is me
Attention: This post is at best, melancholy. You have been warned.
Tonight is not a good night. I am feeling monumentally sad, dissatisfied with myself, and with my abilities as a mother and a wife. Basically, I suck. I have been fighting these feelings for a long time now. Months at least. I have been trying really hard to keep myself distracted, and for a while especially with the hub-bub of the nuptials, it was working, but now that has worn off. I can't put my finger on any one thing, there are so many things that upset me.
Tonight I just really don't like myself. I am not being the kind of mother I want to be. Today, I am really tired. I don't really have the luxury of being tired, with 3 little ones in the house, but today, I am tired. When I am tired I have no patience. I yell. A lot. I threaten. I am cranky and I am mean. It is not the cherubs' fault that I am tired. It is my fault. So why then do I take it out on them? Because obviously, I am a lousy mother.
I had this thought tonight, as I was holding Paddy boy, I flashed back to when First son was in my arms as a new baby. I realized that as I held my firstborn baby back then, and dreamed of the wonderful life we would have together as mother and child, none of my fantasies contained the types of rage and anger that I was displaying today and tonight. No matter how much good I do, however loving and cuddling and adoring a mother I am most of the time, I know that I erase that with just a minute's worth of mean Mommy.
Don't get me wrong, as much as the cherubs are indeed angelic, they are also quite mischievous and have lately been pushing the envelope on "fresh". Still, I am the grown-up, and sometimes I don't act like it.
Please don't write me any comments about stuff I already know. I am being hard enough on myself tonight. If you have something constructive or supportive to say however, I could use it.
Tonight is not a good night. I am feeling monumentally sad, dissatisfied with myself, and with my abilities as a mother and a wife. Basically, I suck. I have been fighting these feelings for a long time now. Months at least. I have been trying really hard to keep myself distracted, and for a while especially with the hub-bub of the nuptials, it was working, but now that has worn off. I can't put my finger on any one thing, there are so many things that upset me.
Tonight I just really don't like myself. I am not being the kind of mother I want to be. Today, I am really tired. I don't really have the luxury of being tired, with 3 little ones in the house, but today, I am tired. When I am tired I have no patience. I yell. A lot. I threaten. I am cranky and I am mean. It is not the cherubs' fault that I am tired. It is my fault. So why then do I take it out on them? Because obviously, I am a lousy mother.
I had this thought tonight, as I was holding Paddy boy, I flashed back to when First son was in my arms as a new baby. I realized that as I held my firstborn baby back then, and dreamed of the wonderful life we would have together as mother and child, none of my fantasies contained the types of rage and anger that I was displaying today and tonight. No matter how much good I do, however loving and cuddling and adoring a mother I am most of the time, I know that I erase that with just a minute's worth of mean Mommy.
Don't get me wrong, as much as the cherubs are indeed angelic, they are also quite mischievous and have lately been pushing the envelope on "fresh". Still, I am the grown-up, and sometimes I don't act like it.
Please don't write me any comments about stuff I already know. I am being hard enough on myself tonight. If you have something constructive or supportive to say however, I could use it.
Re-evalutaing Friendships
So last night hubby and I went out to a lovely dinner with some very close friends to celebrate her birthday. Yes, we sprung for a babysitter and all! The restaurant was good, the decor was lovely, homey, and welcoming. The service was just OK,our waitress was working the whole room alone, with just one 12 year old bus-boy, and I don't think the restaurant expected or prepared for what turned out to be a Tuesday night rush, so I won't hold it against them. The food was mostly good - baked clams C-, filet mingon A+. The only real negative is that the restaurant was very LOUD. Sometimes it was hard to hear each other speak. Alas, the acoustical issues of the restaurant are not to blame for what I am about to tell you.
As a gift for the birthday girl, I had gotten a lovely necklace with a silver claddagh which lays over a beautiful, shiny white disc. After the gift was opened we were all admiring it, and a discussion began about the white disc, namely exactly what it was made of. It went like this:
Someone: "is that mother of pearl?"
Me: "I thought it was Capis Shell"
Her: "Appolonia?"
Me: giggle
Him: "What did you say?"
Me: "I said I thought it was Capis Shell"
Her: "Is that what it is? Appolonia?"
Me: giggle, and then, in my best bad Italian accent,
" Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday"
Them: Blank stares
Me: "What do you think it is?" (maybe I hadn't heard right)
Her: "Appolonia"
Me: "Monday Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday"
Them: nothing
I think I have to reevaluate this friendship. I don't know if I can be friends with people who don't regularly quote Godfather scenes and work them into everyday conversation, or at the very least, appreciate it when others do. Do they even realize that Appolonia is one of the most tragic characters in the entire trilogy? Think how different Michael's life as Don would have been if Appolonia hadn't been blown to bits, forcing him to return to the arms of the very "naive" Kay? Michael needed a good Italian wife to stay home and have the babies and stir the gravy, not some New England Wasp with the arrogance to think her own thoughts!
Well, at least we have Buffalo.
As a gift for the birthday girl, I had gotten a lovely necklace with a silver claddagh which lays over a beautiful, shiny white disc. After the gift was opened we were all admiring it, and a discussion began about the white disc, namely exactly what it was made of. It went like this:
Someone: "is that mother of pearl?"
Me: "I thought it was Capis Shell"
Her: "Appolonia?"
Me: giggle
Him: "What did you say?"
Me: "I said I thought it was Capis Shell"
Her: "Is that what it is? Appolonia?"
Me: giggle, and then, in my best bad Italian accent,
" Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday"
Them: Blank stares
Me: "What do you think it is?" (maybe I hadn't heard right)
Her: "Appolonia"
Me: "Monday Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday"
Them: nothing
I think I have to reevaluate this friendship. I don't know if I can be friends with people who don't regularly quote Godfather scenes and work them into everyday conversation, or at the very least, appreciate it when others do. Do they even realize that Appolonia is one of the most tragic characters in the entire trilogy? Think how different Michael's life as Don would have been if Appolonia hadn't been blown to bits, forcing him to return to the arms of the very "naive" Kay? Michael needed a good Italian wife to stay home and have the babies and stir the gravy, not some New England Wasp with the arrogance to think her own thoughts!
Well, at least we have Buffalo.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Graffiti
There is something funky going on. Apparently the white trash lovers read my blog.
This morning as I left my house at the un-godly hour of 8:50am (yes, I am in BIG trouble come Sept, when First son needs to catch the bus at 7:30!) - I found, on the fence that runs along my property, graffiti! Some low-life imbecile decided to leave his "tag" on my rotten old stockade fence. Boy am I mad. I dropped First Son off at VBS ( a whole 'nother post), and promptly summoned Suffolk County's finest to the old homestead to survey the damage. They filed a report, assured me that it was good that I called so that if they ever catch this guy they will have more evidence to throw at him, and said they would patrol my area more often. Woo. Hoo.
Honestly, I didn't expect them to do much, but I will not sit silently and let anyone vandalize my property. (well, mine and Washington Mutual's that is)
Hubby came home early and got right out there with the power washer and took the paint right off. The funny thing is, that after he power washed it, that section of fence of course looked much cleaner and newer and nicer than all the other sections alongside it. A conundrum you say? Not for my hubby. Apparently he has been reading my MS Living. He put on his creative thinking cap, and took a handful of mud and re"stained" the fence for us! What, you didn't think he would have power-washed the whole thing did you? LOL. Me neither.
Well, we'll see what happens tomorrow.
This morning as I left my house at the un-godly hour of 8:50am (yes, I am in BIG trouble come Sept, when First son needs to catch the bus at 7:30!) - I found, on the fence that runs along my property, graffiti! Some low-life imbecile decided to leave his "tag" on my rotten old stockade fence. Boy am I mad. I dropped First Son off at VBS ( a whole 'nother post), and promptly summoned Suffolk County's finest to the old homestead to survey the damage. They filed a report, assured me that it was good that I called so that if they ever catch this guy they will have more evidence to throw at him, and said they would patrol my area more often. Woo. Hoo.
Honestly, I didn't expect them to do much, but I will not sit silently and let anyone vandalize my property. (well, mine and Washington Mutual's that is)
Hubby came home early and got right out there with the power washer and took the paint right off. The funny thing is, that after he power washed it, that section of fence of course looked much cleaner and newer and nicer than all the other sections alongside it. A conundrum you say? Not for my hubby. Apparently he has been reading my MS Living. He put on his creative thinking cap, and took a handful of mud and re"stained" the fence for us! What, you didn't think he would have power-washed the whole thing did you? LOL. Me neither.
Well, we'll see what happens tomorrow.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Nosy Neighbors
You know that old saying about kissing by the garden gate? "the flowers may be blind, but the neighbors ain't"? Well, guess what? I am the neighbor they speak of! Now, it's not that I am inherently nosy, (well, ok, yes I am), but , let's be reasonable, If you decide to have a full blown, 100 decibel, lover's spat outside my bedroom window at 3Am, you can bet your ass I am going to pull up a chair.
There I was last night enjoying my sweet slumber when I was awoken by some such lover's quarrel. So out of my bed I stumbled and over to the window. There they were in the middle of the street, F-bombs flying. I kneel down, bad back and all and settle in for a show!
He says: "don't hit me! mumble mumble, you know, mumble mumble, my father, mumble"
She says, and no mumbling here, :"I'm tired of this 'don't hit me, my father used to hit me' bullshit - your father didn't f-ck you did he?!"
Me - O MY GOD (silent thought - he didn't did he??) !
Hubby then lifts his head to ask what the heck I am doing -
Me - "shh! go make me some popcorn! "
Seriously the bickering and the pushing and shoving and "I love you so much and you know it, that's why you f-ck with me" and the "all you care about is getting laid" - he said to her!, and the "just take me home and then you can go wherever you want" - it all went on for about 2 hours.
Now, I don't live anywhere near a bar or anything, none of my neighbors were having a party, I don't know how these poor souls came to decide that the street immediately outside my bedroom window would make the perfect venue for their row, but it was quite entertaining, I just wish I could TiVo that kind of drama and watch it at a more convenient time.
Hubby may now expect me to wake up in the middle of the night for other things...
like feeding Paddy boy. But, I have a bad back, you know.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
It's terrible to get old...
I can remember when I was little, big people saying "it is terrible to get old", usually in response to some ache or pain they were experiencing. Well, having passed the threshold of 30, and not having any child in my womb at the moment on whom to blame my aches and pains, I whole heartedly concur. It is terrible to get old.
Yesterday as I was going about my business , cleaning and cooking, and mommying, a terrible thing happened. As I bent down to pick up the bucket of Playdoh that the cherubs had been playing with earlier, I heard a "Pop", followed by an awful burning sensation spreading through my lower back. I looked First son in the eyes and said "uh oh". I threw out my back. Next thing you know I am lying face down on the very dirty kitchen floor, writhing in pain. I had just put poor Paddy Boy down on said floor with a spoon and a bowl to bang on, when I got the bright idea to tidy up. Thank goodness we grow them big here on our farm, and First son was able to reach and dial the phone. He called Grandma and said "could you come over? Mommy's on the kitchen floor and she can't get up" Thank goodness too, that MIL is just a block away. She was here in no time to save the day, or at least to save Paddy boy from his own dirty diapers.
After a few minutes and much wincing I was able to pull myself to a semi-erect position. Hubby got me an appointment with a chiropractor and came home from work early. Dr. Back-cracker took his sweet time, but did eventually x-ray my frame. Guess what? I have an extra vertebrate which is fused on my left side to my sacrum, a congenital anomaly, but, not in the least bit related to my pain. This diagnosis was just a door prize. The good Doc decided that I was in way too much pain for a full exam and so treated me with some electric shock therapy and advised lots of ice. He said that if I was 50% better in the morning to come see him again. (I thought you were supposed to go back to the Dr. if you don't feel better, but what do I know).
Today I am walking without having to constantly lean on something or someone, which is a huge improvement. I still can't lift Paddy boy though, which is heartbreaking. MIL was a lifesaver again, as she took the whole brood for the day.
Tomorrow should be better, please God. I am really not good at being an invalid. I stink at letting people do things for me. I can only watch so much daytime TV and IO movies. I am all caught up on my Redbook, MS Living and have been dipping into hubby's Nat'l Geographic (Malaria is baaad!) Curly girl is totally taking advantage because she knows I can't throw her over my shoulder and march her up to her bed, and poor First son is so bored, he wishes he still had preschool!! Please, please, please let me be young again tomorrow!
Monday, July 16, 2007
The Miss is a Mrs!
OK loyal fans, here I am, back in the game. The storm has passed. The niece is now officially Mrs. V, and is currently soaking up the sun and sights in Hawaii, little bitch! LOL. The wedding and all the festivities surrounding it were a huge success! Seriously, the wedding was awesome. All of the details that we worked so hard on really had impact. The cake was gorgeous, the bride was gorgeous, let's just say it, I was gorgeous! The bad rocked - and they even played Guns n' Roses, just for me! How'd they know? The relatives flew in, and flew out. There was singing and dancing and a little bit of imbibing. (just a little) I gave a toast, and though I was quite frightened, I actually caused a few tears, (the good kind, I think) The little cherubs, who everybody always wants to rent out for their wedding because they are so cute, well, let's just say that if I had rented them for this wedding, I would have wanted my money back!! They were of course adorable, but First son had a total meltdown half way down the aisle, and Curly was just so concerned for her brother (I think they might actually share a rib) that she went running off to find him. There are NO pictures of the bridal party with both First son and Curly. By the time we got to pictures the ring bearer was a little better, but the flower girl was too tired. She actually slept for an hour and a half in the bridal suite, with a tablecloth for a blanket!! The nap did her wonders though, as she then danced the night away!
The party or "Par tee" as Miss Suzy Mac would say, went on until the wee hours - literally, the bride didn't go to bed till half past 5AM!!! I myself made it to about 4, but then, I was just lucky to be there among all the youngsters!!
I am both sad and glad at the same time. I am sad that it has all come and gone, but I am also glad that it is finally over! Now I can get my life back for a little! Wait! What am I talking about? Mickey D and the Sunshine girl are getting married in just 10 months and 27 days!!! I gotta get to work!! Weddings are after all a hobby of mine, or so says the hubby!
The party or "Par tee" as Miss Suzy Mac would say, went on until the wee hours - literally, the bride didn't go to bed till half past 5AM!!! I myself made it to about 4, but then, I was just lucky to be there among all the youngsters!!
I am both sad and glad at the same time. I am sad that it has all come and gone, but I am also glad that it is finally over! Now I can get my life back for a little! Wait! What am I talking about? Mickey D and the Sunshine girl are getting married in just 10 months and 27 days!!! I gotta get to work!! Weddings are after all a hobby of mine, or so says the hubby!
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