Today First Son's preschool invited parents to come in and talk to the class about their jobs. They stressed that it should be jobs that deal with people, in fact the class calendar titled today: "Community Helpers". This is why Hubby did not go in and talk to the kids about designing military airplanes and the tons of bureaucratic bullshit that go with it, it doesn't really fall neatly into the "community helper" category. No, they were looking for Doctors and Nurses, Policeman and Fireman, Trash Collectors and Postmen.
(Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? Say, who are the people in your neighborhood? The people that you meet each day!)
Well, when First Son got into the car today and we were chatting about who came to his class today ( a nurse, and a construction worker) he said "Mom, I thought you were gonna come and talk about Winnie's". Hmm. I didn't give a second thought to talking about the 1 day a week that I pour coffee and sling eggs, I mean sure, a waitress is "in your neighborhood", but you know what? I don't identify myself as a waitress. I told first son, "sorry, maybe next time" ( he was just hoping I would have brought in grilled cheese sandwiches for everyone since the nurse brought in tiny baby diapers and construction worker dad gave everyone hard hats) But then I got to thinking about my "real job". I know that I have the most important job ever, being a full time, stay at home Mom. I also believe that the job I hold gets nowhere near the amount of respect it deserves, but what did I do about it? Absolutely nothing! I totally could have gone into that class and talked about my job! I could have done it in a way that would have had those 4 year olds really thinking! I could have been a trailblazer, demanding respect and dignity. I could have had no less than 23 other moms falling at my feet, thanking me. But what did I do? Oh I could kick myself!
I told First son that I didn't come talk about being a waitress because that isn't my real job, my real job is being a Mom. And he said - " Oh yeah, you're just a Mom." Boy do I have some work to do!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
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Friday, May 25, 2007
Nice People Rock!
We've all seen and chuckled at those bumper stickers, t-shirts, magnets, etc. that say "Mean People Suck". Well, they do. Nice people on the other hand just don't get enough press. I would like to do my part to correct that.
I'll call her Aunt Dolores (I am running low on code name creative juice this week). She is MIL's aunt actually, but she's not much older than MIL is, so she and MIL are close. She lives half way across the country in the middle of the desert, and though we have met once, and we do send Christmas cards and birth announcements, Aunt Dolores and I are at best family acquaintances. Well, Aunt Dolores is a new fan of my blog (see, she's not just nice, but smart too!), and I guess that after reading my slightly somber Mother's Day post (I didn't really think it was that dark, but then, I live here inside my head so what do I know) she took it upon herself to cheer me up! Out of the blue I came home the other day and there was a box sitting on my stoop (isn't it so exciting to get a package??). It was a beautiful basket full of cookies and tea, and a beautiful new teapot! Does Aunt Dolores know of my fondness for tea? Does she know that my love of all things tea is a subtle way I have of clinging to my mother? (who was giving me cups of tea as young as four)
Aunt Dolores was just being nice, and it worked! I am definitely cheered. It is so good to know that there are people out there who are concerned about other people, and who will go out of their own way to put a smile on someone's face. Thank you Aunt Dolores for being one of those people. Thank you so much for caring about me!
Now then, you don't all have to go send someone a basket of tea, but you could be inspired to go out into the world today and be nice, what do you think? Give it a try!
I'll call her Aunt Dolores (I am running low on code name creative juice this week). She is MIL's aunt actually, but she's not much older than MIL is, so she and MIL are close. She lives half way across the country in the middle of the desert, and though we have met once, and we do send Christmas cards and birth announcements, Aunt Dolores and I are at best family acquaintances. Well, Aunt Dolores is a new fan of my blog (see, she's not just nice, but smart too!), and I guess that after reading my slightly somber Mother's Day post (I didn't really think it was that dark, but then, I live here inside my head so what do I know) she took it upon herself to cheer me up! Out of the blue I came home the other day and there was a box sitting on my stoop (isn't it so exciting to get a package??). It was a beautiful basket full of cookies and tea, and a beautiful new teapot! Does Aunt Dolores know of my fondness for tea? Does she know that my love of all things tea is a subtle way I have of clinging to my mother? (who was giving me cups of tea as young as four)
Aunt Dolores was just being nice, and it worked! I am definitely cheered. It is so good to know that there are people out there who are concerned about other people, and who will go out of their own way to put a smile on someone's face. Thank you Aunt Dolores for being one of those people. Thank you so much for caring about me!
Now then, you don't all have to go send someone a basket of tea, but you could be inspired to go out into the world today and be nice, what do you think? Give it a try!
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Who's Your Daddy?
Ask Curly this Question:"What's Mommy's Name?"
her answer: "Patricia"
then ask her:
"What's Daddy's Name?"
her answer: "Honey"
Monday, May 21, 2007
They Bounce!
Scary, scary day today. My sweet, sweet, wonderful Paddy Boy...fell off the kitchen counter and onto his head. I saw his whole life (all 5 months of it) flash before me. I honestly don't think I have ever been so frightened in my life, and I am officially giving up laundry duties.
Here's how it went down: I sat him in his car seat, on the kitchen counter with a floppy book while I set about fixing his bottle for lunch. The two sibling cherubs were going back and forth between eating their lunch and playing house with it. Paddy sat quite contentedly in his seat, perched atop my kitchen "peninsula". I decided to seize this moment of relative calm to grab the laundry from the dryer and bring it upstairs. Frick and Frack followed me upstairs, and I promptly told them to go finish their lunch, and to talk to their brother who I could hear fussing a bit (not crying, just fussing, probably because he was left alone). I folded a few pieces of laundry, when I heard a loud crash, followed by hysterical crying from three sets of lungs. I flew down the stairs (I quite honestly have no recollection of my feet hitting the steps), found the two oldest sitting on the living room chaise, each as white as a ghost, sobbing and screeching inconsolably. I ran into the kitchen to find Paddy lying on his back, on the floor, crying! The car seat was also on the floor, a few feet away. My heart was in my throat. I scooped Paddy up and gave him a once over, he didn't seem hurt, but he was crying quite a bit. I went into the living room, tried to reassure the other two that they were NOT in trouble, but that I had to know what happened. Through sobs and tears I figured out that Curly was trying to talk to him and calm him down, as I asked her to do, and she leaned on the edge of the car seat, which tipped.
Immediately I called the pediatrician's office, although I was lucky I could remember my own name, much less their phone number. I was shook! Luckily they told me to come right in (I was afraid they would say to go to the ER, or worse, call an ambulance). Paddy boy calmed down pretty easily, but poor Curly was distraught. She had run up to her bed and was sobbing into her pillow. My poor girl. I took Paddy with me to show her that he was OK, that she was not in trouble, that we would just take him to the Dr. so we could make extra sure.
The Dr. looked him over and said he seems fine. Thank God. She did say to watch him closely for any changes. Then she told me to of course, be more careful next time, but to be kind to myself, all babies fall at one time or another, but they bounce! Of course this happens the day before hubby is set to go out of town on business, because all drama in my life revolves around hubby's business travel.
Later on when we were safely home I asked the kids to reenact the scene using Curly's doll and doll carrier. It turns out, that Curly really saved the day! She tipped the car seat, but rather than letting her baby brother fall, she grabbed him and held him as best she could letting him drop to the floor from her arms (a much shorter drop than from the counter). She is a good sister. She realizes now that Paddy boy is OK, and she is feeling much better about it herself.
I keep reliving those scary moments when I heard the crash, and ran into the kitchen. The pictures that went through my mind were scary, much scarier than the reality. The scariest thing though is that they could have been the reality. Paddy could have been really seriously hurt. I can see myself having nightmares about this for a while. Needless to say, he will not be sitting on any counter tops again anytime soon.
My blood pressure today? High.
Forecast for tonight: sleepless
General attitude: Gratitude!
Any votes for MOTY??
Here's how it went down: I sat him in his car seat, on the kitchen counter with a floppy book while I set about fixing his bottle for lunch. The two sibling cherubs were going back and forth between eating their lunch and playing house with it. Paddy sat quite contentedly in his seat, perched atop my kitchen "peninsula". I decided to seize this moment of relative calm to grab the laundry from the dryer and bring it upstairs. Frick and Frack followed me upstairs, and I promptly told them to go finish their lunch, and to talk to their brother who I could hear fussing a bit (not crying, just fussing, probably because he was left alone). I folded a few pieces of laundry, when I heard a loud crash, followed by hysterical crying from three sets of lungs. I flew down the stairs (I quite honestly have no recollection of my feet hitting the steps), found the two oldest sitting on the living room chaise, each as white as a ghost, sobbing and screeching inconsolably. I ran into the kitchen to find Paddy lying on his back, on the floor, crying! The car seat was also on the floor, a few feet away. My heart was in my throat. I scooped Paddy up and gave him a once over, he didn't seem hurt, but he was crying quite a bit. I went into the living room, tried to reassure the other two that they were NOT in trouble, but that I had to know what happened. Through sobs and tears I figured out that Curly was trying to talk to him and calm him down, as I asked her to do, and she leaned on the edge of the car seat, which tipped.
Immediately I called the pediatrician's office, although I was lucky I could remember my own name, much less their phone number. I was shook! Luckily they told me to come right in (I was afraid they would say to go to the ER, or worse, call an ambulance). Paddy boy calmed down pretty easily, but poor Curly was distraught. She had run up to her bed and was sobbing into her pillow. My poor girl. I took Paddy with me to show her that he was OK, that she was not in trouble, that we would just take him to the Dr. so we could make extra sure.
The Dr. looked him over and said he seems fine. Thank God. She did say to watch him closely for any changes. Then she told me to of course, be more careful next time, but to be kind to myself, all babies fall at one time or another, but they bounce! Of course this happens the day before hubby is set to go out of town on business, because all drama in my life revolves around hubby's business travel.
Later on when we were safely home I asked the kids to reenact the scene using Curly's doll and doll carrier. It turns out, that Curly really saved the day! She tipped the car seat, but rather than letting her baby brother fall, she grabbed him and held him as best she could letting him drop to the floor from her arms (a much shorter drop than from the counter). She is a good sister. She realizes now that Paddy boy is OK, and she is feeling much better about it herself.
I keep reliving those scary moments when I heard the crash, and ran into the kitchen. The pictures that went through my mind were scary, much scarier than the reality. The scariest thing though is that they could have been the reality. Paddy could have been really seriously hurt. I can see myself having nightmares about this for a while. Needless to say, he will not be sitting on any counter tops again anytime soon.
My blood pressure today? High.
Forecast for tonight: sleepless
General attitude: Gratitude!
Any votes for MOTY??
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Mother's Day
Mother's Day has never been one of my favorite holidays. I belong to a club, a secret society - the "motherless daughters". My Mom died when I was six years old. When I was younger, in school and Girl Scouts and such (yes, I was a Girl Scout, and a pretty good one at that, if you don't count the fact that my badges were stapled to my sash) there was the inevitable "Mother's Day project" that would come up, planting seeds, or making potholders and such. Always I would have to make my project for "someone special", and even though there are several really great women in my life, none of them could ever fill the void of my missing mother. And so, every Mother's Day became for me a reminder of what I didn't have.Now, I have been blessed in the most incredible way. I am a mother. I have three amazing children and one angel in heaven. Mother's Day should be a reminder to me of what I do have. I love my family, and I thank God for them every day, but, Mother's Day makes me anxious. If I could, I'd rather just skip it. My kids tell me they love me every day. My husband does too, and he also tells me that I am a great Mom. I don't think my children or my husband for that matter, need a calendar to remind them to appreciate me. I hope they never will. Still, Mother's Day comes, and society makes a big deal about it (cha-ching) and so I go along.
This week I went to a special "Mother's Day Tea" with First Son at his school. I was really excited about it, because he was so excited. For days beforehand he would tell me " x more days till Mother's Day" and then when the day finally came he awoke early and jumped in bed with me saying "Mommy, today is Mother's Day, you get to come to my school!" His enthusiasm was absolutely contagious. The kids were very cute, they loved showing off their classrooms, and demonstrating their daily routine to the Moms (pledge of allegiance, reading the calendar, singing songs). I came home with a mystery plant that First Son cultivated from seed (I hope I don't kill it), and a place mat with fingerprint flowers, and a lovely Mother's Day poem which, even though it was copied en masse on a Xerox machine and glued onto every Mom's flower picture, made me a bit weepy. It was a lovely preschool afternoon, and I am grateful to First Son's very creative teachers for putting it together. In a certain way I guess life comes full circle, as those "Mother's Day projects" are back, but with a whole new meaning for me now.
With my family, I "celebrated" Mother's Day a day early as I am working tomorrow. Hubby asked me what I wanted to do, and when I thought about it, I decided that what I really wanted to do was to spend some quality time with the 3 cherubs. I have been so busy and task oriented lately, that I realized I really just wanted to play with my kids. So, we packed up and headed to the Ocean. We played and played, we made sand castles, and a Mickey Mouse face in the sand, we played Frisbee, and we waded in the freezing cold Atlantic. We had a blast. I took a ton of pictures. I sat in my beach chair, holding my baby, listening to the ocean waves and the sound of children's laughter. My children's laughter. It was a great day.
As much as I might want to avoid the whole Mother's Day thing, I can't do it. It's everywhere, so I do my best to swallow my already repressed emotions and get through it with a smile. I try, but deep down I have a muti-layered sense of melancholy. I think about the other members of this atrocious club I belong to - my 2 sisters, my good friends Jeannine & Patty, and Florian, and DD. I think about all the little boys and girls who struggled with their "Mother's Day Project" this year, especially little Cassidy, my husband's cousin's daughter who lost her Mom this year, and only just turned five. In a perfect world we should all appreciate and celebrate our moms each and every day, and even in a special way, as we see fit, not because the calendar or some card store or plant sale tells us it is that day of the year. Alas, we don't live in a perfect world, and Mother's Day comes each May. I have many more "Mother's Day projects" to look forward to, and I will treasure all of them, as I do each of my beautiful children. I will cherish every precious memory of my own dear mother, and I will think about and pray for everybody who makes his or her "Mother's Day project" for "Someone Special". I will also remember and pray for those mothers, whose arms are empty on Mother's Day and every other day, even though their hearts are full.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
A liesurely day of shopping
I went shopping today at one of my favorite haunts, Old Navy. I needed some spring t-shirts for myself, and I had the three cherubs in tow. My shopping excursion was mostly successful in that my wardrobe now has a few cotton t's that don't have stains on them (at least not yet), and a cute little denim skirt, but it was a battle. The scene went something like this:
Me: Pick that ball up, and don't let it drop again.
Me: That's it, give me the ball.
Them: Noooo!
Me: I am not going to tell you again.
Me: One more time and I am taking the ball.
Me: Curly!
Me: First Son!
Me: Pick up the ball.
Me: Tell me that you did NOT just throw it!
First Son: But, Mom
Me: That's it!
Them: Nooo!
Me: Come here!
Curly runs away
Me: I am not chasing you!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly Patricia!
Me: Now that's it! The ball is mine, when you show me that you can behave you can have the ball back.
Me: First son, should I take your ball too?
Me: Where is she?
Me: come here.
Me: Curly!
Me:Where is she?
Me: Now where'd she go?
Me: Curly!
Me: Where is she?
Me: oh, good stay there
Me: no, Paddy can not hold your ball.
Me: Curly!
Me: Where is she?
Me: OK, let's go!
Me: Come on, walk!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly Patricia!
Me: Here is your ball, now don't let it go.
Me: have you lost your mind?
Me: Where is she?
Me: Get out from there.
First Son: Mom, watch, I 'm going in there now
Me: No, you're not!
Me: Come here!
Me: Enough!
Me: This way, let's go!
Me: First Son, get down off of there!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly Patricia!
Me: When I tell you to come you need to come right away.
Me: First son!
Me: oy vey!
Me: Honestly First son, should I have to even ask you to get down off of things in the store?
Me: Curly!
Me: Please stop.
Me: Come on guys, we're almost done.
Me: Please.
Me: stop hanging on that, what if it falls?
Me: Curly Patricia!
At this point the lady in line in back of me says - "Wow, you have such cute kids. They listen so good too!" Lady, are we even in the same store?
Methinks next time I won't let them "hold" a ball while we shop. Ya think?? Either that or leave them locked in the car, maybe.
Me: Pick that ball up, and don't let it drop again.
Me: That's it, give me the ball.
Them: Noooo!
Me: I am not going to tell you again.
Me: One more time and I am taking the ball.
Me: Curly!
Me: First Son!
Me: Pick up the ball.
Me: Tell me that you did NOT just throw it!
First Son: But, Mom
Me: That's it!
Them: Nooo!
Me: Come here!
Curly runs away
Me: I am not chasing you!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly Patricia!
Me: Now that's it! The ball is mine, when you show me that you can behave you can have the ball back.
Me: First son, should I take your ball too?
Me: Where is she?
Me: come here.
Me: Curly!
Me:Where is she?
Me: Now where'd she go?
Me: Curly!
Me: Where is she?
Me: oh, good stay there
Me: no, Paddy can not hold your ball.
Me: Curly!
Me: Where is she?
Me: OK, let's go!
Me: Come on, walk!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly Patricia!
Me: Here is your ball, now don't let it go.
Me: have you lost your mind?
Me: Where is she?
Me: Get out from there.
First Son: Mom, watch, I 'm going in there now
Me: No, you're not!
Me: Come here!
Me: Enough!
Me: This way, let's go!
Me: First Son, get down off of there!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly Patricia!
Me: When I tell you to come you need to come right away.
Me: First son!
Me: oy vey!
Me: Honestly First son, should I have to even ask you to get down off of things in the store?
Me: Curly!
Me: Please stop.
Me: Come on guys, we're almost done.
Me: Please.
Me: stop hanging on that, what if it falls?
Me: Curly Patricia!
At this point the lady in line in back of me says - "Wow, you have such cute kids. They listen so good too!" Lady, are we even in the same store?
Methinks next time I won't let them "hold" a ball while we shop. Ya think?? Either that or leave them locked in the car, maybe.
Monday, May 7, 2007
My shnuggle bug
So, it's been a long weekend bookended by parties at our house. Last night came and we were all pretty tired. Paddy boy and Curly were the first ones down, so First son and I spent the most delicious time together shnuggling in bed. As I laid on my pillow he laid on hubby's (hubby was off catching up on the science channel) we discussed the events of the weekend, our favorite parts of the parties, the best toys that Curly got. Whenever the conversation lulled, First son said eagerly "what do you want to talk about now, Mommy?" He was really hungering for this one on one time with me, and I was basking in it myself. After a while of talking, I shut the lights and told him that we needed to get some sleep. As I turned on my side to go to sleep, he threw his arm over my shoulder and said in the yummiest little voice "my sweetheart!". Me, his Mommy, his sweetheart! And, He is mine, all mine, my little shnuggle bug.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Happy Birthday Princess!
My Dear, Sweet Curly Girl,
Happy Birthday to you. Three years old today. It goes so fast. I remember it like yesterday when the doctors pulled you from my tummy and said "it's a girl". In the days that followed your birth I replayed that moment over and over in an attempt to wash away my disbelief. How could it be that God had given me a baby girl? Oh I wanted you for so long. How could I possibly be blessed enough to be given that which I had always wanted? And now here you are, three years old, and you are wonderful! You are so beautiful. You are sweet, and kind, and above all, spunky. You make every day an adventure, I never know what I am going to get with you. Sometimes, I swear, this is not your first time around because you are wise way beyond your years. I look at you today and I imagine you tomorrow. Your future is so full of hope and promise. You can truly be anything you want to be, even now, nobody can tell you "No" and get away with it. You do things on your own terms always, which I admit is a bit much for a three year old, but I try to look beyond that to the amazing woman you will grow into. Some people say that you are just like me, but my sweet Curly girl, you are, at just three years old, already so much more than I can ever hope to be. I love you with all my heart and soul. You are my sweet, sweet little girl, and I am your sweet, sweet big Mommy. I love you. Happy Birthday.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
My belly was Soooo fat!
Curly is going to be three in three days time. I can't hardly believe it. Every day this week we talk about three years ago today my belly was "sooo fat", and Curly chimes in..."cause I was in your belly!" You know what's scary? Only 10 years till she's thirteen! Heaven help us.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
"Curly"
My daughter, whom I lovingly refer to as "Curly" is well, let's just say aptly named. The child has remarkably curly hair. It is beautiful. I don't know where she got it from, I mean my hair is curly and hubby's hair is curly, but we've got nothing on Curly herself. Wherever I go with her people have to stop us to comment on her hair. It's gotten so that we both just mumble a polite "thank you" as if someone had said "Gesundheit" to our sneeze. She has a head full of the tightest, golden blond curls you've ever seen. When her hair is dry it doesn't even touch her shoulders, when it is soaking wet it sports a tight wave and falls below her shoulder blades. I have never cut it. The child is truly blessed with an amazing mane.So, what pisses me off? I'll tell you. There are so many people who comment about how beautiful her hair is, and then, without taking a breath go on to say "she's gonna hate it when she gets older." That is just so rude! Who the hell are you? Are you wishing for my sweet 3yr old to be an unhappy adolescent? You don't know her, you don't know us, do not presume that you know the slightest thing about how she is going to feel about herself when she is older. Just because you were an ugly, pimple faced teenager with frizzy hair and crooked teeth does not give you the right to project your own low self-esteem onto my beautiful child. If I have anything to do with it, my child will not judge her self-worth based on her beautiful hair or lack thereof, what will be important is character, integrity, and kindness.
So, if you like her hair, thank you. If you have any further comments, shut the hell up, because nobody asked you.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Waxing Endodontic
I have Irish teeth. They rot out of my head despite my best efforts at oral hygiene. Luckily I also have dental insurance.
Today was the last day of my second root canal on the same tooth. (incidentally, I do everything twice, had my ears pierced 2x for one hole, got tattooed 2x for one tattoo, and now root canal 2x on one tooth)
Walking into the endodontist's office (root canal specialist) was like walking back into 1987, complete with blue and silver metallic wallpaper, big hair, "The Golden Girls" playing in the waiting room, I mean, the only things missing were my black spandex pants, scrunchie socks and side ponytail. The place is really bizarre. For one thing, they keep their used "sharps" in an empty milk jug! Not one of those indiscreet red "bio hazard" containers, but a milk jug! Alas, I want my tooth fixed and my dentist has sent me here so, I proceed. The Dr. himself doesn't really give me the warm and fuzzies, more like the heebie jeebies, but he comes recommended, and most importantly he takes my insurance, and I figured, hey, he was wearing gloves. (OK, so one of them was white with sequins and he kept holding it up in the air, but again, ...he takes my insurance).
I have been to the office twice before today without incident. Other than the time warp thing, and two large needles jammed into the roof of my mouth, it's been okay. Well, today I realized I should have trusted my intuition and turned myself right back out as soon as I arrived the first time.
Caution, the following is not for squeamish readers.
After catching up with Rose and Blanche and Sophia, my turn came, and I sat back in the ever so welcoming reclining chair of torture, accepted the needle jabs and embraced the numbing of what felt like my entire face. Dr. Heebie Jeebie took his place next to my head and began his procedure. I decided to close my eyes because with all that is going on there's so much back and forth and technical talk and really I 'd rather not see all the instruments and what have you that are being shoved into the recesses of my skull. Dr. HJ starts singing off key (and if I can tell it's off key then you know it must be BAD) to "Good Vibrations". That is exactly what I am not having - good vibrations. I am a little uneasy, it is after all, root canal. I open my eyes every few seconds though, just to check on things a little bit, and so I don't appear to have gone to sleep. So there I sit, in 1987 having my root canal "retreated" by Dr. Heebie Jeebie and his assistant, Big Hair, and I open my eyes to see... are you ready? Dr. HJ pulling a big fat wad of orange ear wax out of his ear (still humming Good Vibrations) and then tossing the "cotton swab" across his tray of instruments onto the counter. The only thing that kept me from vomiting was my absolute fear of choking on my own vomit and dying in that God-forsaken place.
Thank God my root canal was pronounced "finished" today. On my way out the scary receptionist whose denim jacket almost definitely had a Def Leppard patch across the back, said to me, "you have 2 more teeth that need to be retreated, should I make you an appointment?"
"NO."
Today was the last day of my second root canal on the same tooth. (incidentally, I do everything twice, had my ears pierced 2x for one hole, got tattooed 2x for one tattoo, and now root canal 2x on one tooth)
Walking into the endodontist's office (root canal specialist) was like walking back into 1987, complete with blue and silver metallic wallpaper, big hair, "The Golden Girls" playing in the waiting room, I mean, the only things missing were my black spandex pants, scrunchie socks and side ponytail. The place is really bizarre. For one thing, they keep their used "sharps" in an empty milk jug! Not one of those indiscreet red "bio hazard" containers, but a milk jug! Alas, I want my tooth fixed and my dentist has sent me here so, I proceed. The Dr. himself doesn't really give me the warm and fuzzies, more like the heebie jeebies, but he comes recommended, and most importantly he takes my insurance, and I figured, hey, he was wearing gloves. (OK, so one of them was white with sequins and he kept holding it up in the air, but again, ...he takes my insurance).
I have been to the office twice before today without incident. Other than the time warp thing, and two large needles jammed into the roof of my mouth, it's been okay. Well, today I realized I should have trusted my intuition and turned myself right back out as soon as I arrived the first time.
Caution, the following is not for squeamish readers.
After catching up with Rose and Blanche and Sophia, my turn came, and I sat back in the ever so welcoming reclining chair of torture, accepted the needle jabs and embraced the numbing of what felt like my entire face. Dr. Heebie Jeebie took his place next to my head and began his procedure. I decided to close my eyes because with all that is going on there's so much back and forth and technical talk and really I 'd rather not see all the instruments and what have you that are being shoved into the recesses of my skull. Dr. HJ starts singing off key (and if I can tell it's off key then you know it must be BAD) to "Good Vibrations". That is exactly what I am not having - good vibrations. I am a little uneasy, it is after all, root canal. I open my eyes every few seconds though, just to check on things a little bit, and so I don't appear to have gone to sleep. So there I sit, in 1987 having my root canal "retreated" by Dr. Heebie Jeebie and his assistant, Big Hair, and I open my eyes to see... are you ready? Dr. HJ pulling a big fat wad of orange ear wax out of his ear (still humming Good Vibrations) and then tossing the "cotton swab" across his tray of instruments onto the counter. The only thing that kept me from vomiting was my absolute fear of choking on my own vomit and dying in that God-forsaken place.
Thank God my root canal was pronounced "finished" today. On my way out the scary receptionist whose denim jacket almost definitely had a Def Leppard patch across the back, said to me, "you have 2 more teeth that need to be retreated, should I make you an appointment?"
"NO."
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Caberet or Cabernet?
Hubby and I actually had a date last night! It has been a long time since we've really been able to do that. I had to farm the cherubs out in different directions, (really who is going to take three of them, especially when three is the new five) but it was well worth the finagling. We went to see Norah Jones. I really like her sound. She was great, beautiful vocals. Generally, listening to Norah Jones, I could be stone sober and feel like I've just had two glasses of cabernet. Good feeling. The problem last night was that I really did just have two glasses of cabernet. Sleepy feeling. I would go see her again if it were more of a caberet setting rather than in a cramped theatre. Until then, I will keep Miss Jones were she belongs, in my CD player whilst I lounge by my fireplace with a big glass of red wine and some candles.
First Son did make me chuckle though. Norah Jones had done a skit on Sesame Street some years back, where she parodied her song "Don't Know Why" singing instead "Don't know why "Y" didn't come" she then explains to Elmo that she is sad becuse she was supposed to have a playdate with her friend, the letter "Y". Coincidence or otherwise our friends at CTW aired said skit yesterday morning. So when First Son asked why I was going to New York City I explained that I was going to see a show, and told him that it was the girl from Sesame Street. He said "Oh!!, is Elmo going to be there too?" chuckle..chuckle.. Then, this morning I told him that indeed, Elmo had not shown up. He then said with a straight face "was the letter "Y" there?"
My life, I love it.
First Son did make me chuckle though. Norah Jones had done a skit on Sesame Street some years back, where she parodied her song "Don't Know Why" singing instead "Don't know why "Y" didn't come" she then explains to Elmo that she is sad becuse she was supposed to have a playdate with her friend, the letter "Y". Coincidence or otherwise our friends at CTW aired said skit yesterday morning. So when First Son asked why I was going to New York City I explained that I was going to see a show, and told him that it was the girl from Sesame Street. He said "Oh!!, is Elmo going to be there too?" chuckle..chuckle.. Then, this morning I told him that indeed, Elmo had not shown up. He then said with a straight face "was the letter "Y" there?"
My life, I love it.
Monday, April 16, 2007
A dues paying member
It is absolutely official. I have paid my dues. I am now a PTA Mom. (Still not a soccer Mom!)
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Embrace the "Now"
Here’s to good women –
may we know them, may we raise them, may we be them!
I went to a lovely ladies' tea today with my sisters, nieces (now that Mickey D and the Sunshine Girl are engaged, I have 2!), mother-in- law, and some friends. The food and service were really mediocre, but the speaker was fabulous! Sr. Pat Duffy, an Amityville Dominican gives the best talks. I really gained a lot from it which I hope is going to help me make the adjustment from mom, to mom of a kindergartner, something which I have confided to you all I am quite anxious about.
The first thing I got from Sr. Pat was to trust my intuition. My intuition tells me that Kindergarten is going to be great for First son, and that I am going to survive too.
The second thing that I got from Sr. Pat is to be present in the "now". I love that advice. I have heard it before, but it is definitely the kind of advice that I can benefit from hearing over and over, as I do tend to get ahead of myself from time to time. I am going to do my best to
"not be anxious for tomorrow", but to enjoy today. Hey - I have until September 5th to worry about kindergarten. In the meantime I still have my morning shnuggles, my leisurely schedule, and the whole day to spend with my beautiful First son. So I am going to just take every day and enjoy it, and enjoy him. When September rolls around I will cry a few tears, and then jump in with both feet. I know you're all taking bets that I will be class Mom. (and a damn good one too - you saw my cupcakes! LOL)
The first thing I got from Sr. Pat was to trust my intuition. My intuition tells me that Kindergarten is going to be great for First son, and that I am going to survive too.
The second thing that I got from Sr. Pat is to be present in the "now". I love that advice. I have heard it before, but it is definitely the kind of advice that I can benefit from hearing over and over, as I do tend to get ahead of myself from time to time. I am going to do my best to
"not be anxious for tomorrow", but to enjoy today. Hey - I have until September 5th to worry about kindergarten. In the meantime I still have my morning shnuggles, my leisurely schedule, and the whole day to spend with my beautiful First son. So I am going to just take every day and enjoy it, and enjoy him. When September rolls around I will cry a few tears, and then jump in with both feet. I know you're all taking bets that I will be class Mom. (and a damn good one too - you saw my cupcakes! LOL)
check out Sister Pat for yourself!
Art Appreciation
Although I personally have no real artistic talent, I do have an appreciation for pretty things. I enjoy spending an afternoon at the art museum. Look at these two masterpieces. I believe they are called: Mona-Aidan and Nola-Lisa.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Nose Candy
Here I am sitting at my computer this morning sipping a cup of tea and doing a little research on the surprise trip to see The Mouse that I am planning, when suddenly Curly walks in and makes it abundantly clear that my life could not be more glamorous. She says....are you ready?..."Mommy, I have a shoe in my nose." Seriously. A shoe, stuck up her nose. (Thank you to UF for the Polly Pocket Easter gift! ) So I quickly put her up on the kitchen counter, and look into the shnoz. There it is, a very fashionable turquoise mule, shoved into one left nostril. So I tell her - "Don't breathe!" Well, that's not good. So I show her how to breathe through her mouth. Then I decide I will try to get her to "blow it out". This isn't working very good, and all I can think about is the phone call to the pediatrician that I am seconds away from having to make. This is great. I am starting to sweat. Curly is remarkably calm. I start to think that maybe the shoe isn't really up there, maybe I saw something else, or nothing. Then First son says, " No Ma, she does have a shoe up her nose! I don't know what happened, mine came right out!" I can not make this stuff up. What possessed you people to stick doll shoes up your nose??
A pair of tweezers and some very dexterous nose picking and the shoe was removed. Curly's biggest concern? "Don't throw it in the Jarbage!"
Thursday, April 12, 2007
salt & lemon
I have to pull myself together. I have been sobbing for an hour now. Tomorrow is kindergarten orientation, and I just can't bring myself to accept it. The thing is, I really, really like first son and I resent having to share him. Especially with teachers. I hate teachers. (yes, several of my best friends are teachers, so?) I would seriously consider homeschooling, but it would be for purely selfish reasons (plus, then I would be a teacher). The thing is that he is going to love it. He is going to thrive. I guess I will come around. I'll go join the PTA or something (wait, what does the "T" stand for?)
I have known for 5 years that this day would come. I have been in denial. I have begged him to just stay little. He refuses. He just keeps getting bigger and bigger.
My friend the other MrsP has one starting High School and her baby starting Kindergarten all in the same day. I forsee 2 MrsP(s) and a bottle of tequila.
I have known for 5 years that this day would come. I have been in denial. I have begged him to just stay little. He refuses. He just keeps getting bigger and bigger.
My friend the other MrsP has one starting High School and her baby starting Kindergarten all in the same day. I forsee 2 MrsP(s) and a bottle of tequila.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Check back soon!
I haven't written for a few days. I have been super busy. Everyone who knows me, knows that I am always busy, but lately I am on overdrive. I apologize to you, my 3 loyal readers. Tonight I am not only busy, but I am not feeling too good. (BC3, my tactile sensation is just fine, thank you)
So, this is a lame post to say, "Sorry, but I just can't post right now." I will in the near future however. I mean, I have a lot to say, this week is, after all, Kindergarten orientation. Did somebody say Tequila?
So, this is a lame post to say, "Sorry, but I just can't post right now." I will in the near future however. I mean, I have a lot to say, this week is, after all, Kindergarten orientation. Did somebody say Tequila?
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