My three-year-old and I just had one of the biggest fights, which we rarely do. I mean, sure, we bicker and banter and argue a lot. let's face it, we are so insanely alike that we drive each other crazy. But tonight was not a small dispute over what the other one did or didn't say. tonight's combat involved screaming, hurt feelings, and a nasty punch... okay, she was exhausted and did not want to go to bed. i finally turned the light off (against her strong will.) she was trying to push me, but her hand ended up right smack dab in the center of my throat. it killed! i screamed; she wailed; i left; she wailed; i returned; we talked (through her sobs) about hurting feelings, etc. Thankfully we were able to hug and kiss and make up. all ended well, but my god, fighting with a three-year-old is tricky business.
i realize that this is no where close to my last fight with a daughter (i can only imagine what baby wah wah has in store for me when she can actually speak rather than bawl her eyes out!)
i do wish we could all just get along, but our wills and our emotions (especially the ones filled with estrogen) are always going to guide us down our own paths, and they will not always converge. but tonight, the battle subsided somewhat peacefully and to me, that is a win. and i'll take those as many times as i can!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
My own private waterfall...
While my children and life are a constant form of entertainment to me, and while i really could write on and on about the mundane beauty of the things i see around me, these may not always be of all that much interest to my readers. so, rather than recount all of the ways that today was wonderful (because we did NOTHING and that was heavenly!), i will instead give the back story on the name of my blog.
When the baby was about three weeks old, and i was starting to feel really pretty good, we packed the kids up and headed out to the mountains for a day of hiking. I bundled the baby up and strapped her on with the bjorn. My three-year-old is a natural with hiking stick in hand, so the four of us set out to see a waterfall. It was a gorgeous fall day- crisp clean air that you could feel cleansing your lungs and mind with each and every breath. the trails were lush with foliage and we enjoyed a pretty good voyage up the hill. We got to a decent lookout and decided that we'd hunker down to have a little snack. My husband and M went to see something aways off, and the baby and i sat on a boulder staring up at the waterfall ahead. I felt a peace that is nearly impossible to find in the daily life of a mother-of-two, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend... I felt deep in my heart that this was my moment. this was the refresher i had needed without even knowing it. this was my own private waterfall.
the more i thought over that statement, the more i embraced it, and soon fell in love. a waterfall appears to be so serene and full of peace, yet it is a constant rushing powerful force that never slows down, never ceases, never ends. it was this dichotomy that struck me as the perfect analogy for my life. because it is in the times of the absolute chaos when i feel most at peace in my life. when the phone is ringing, and the tv is too loud, and the ups guy needs a signature- all at the same time. when the baby is screaming, and M is running through the house naked, and the dog is barking, and the cat is scratching, and my husband is snoring- all at the same time... these are the moments that surround me, that rush me, that never cease to keep me going. this is the constant that keeps me serene. because i know that as long as all of this world is rushing right on around me, then i have my beautiful family, and friends, and life that i adore. so, it is from this place inside of me that can seem peaceful in the midst of crazy that i write to you each and every night. it is this place where i see myself when i close my eyes and need to redirect my energies. it is here, sitting on a boulder and staring up that i am at home- i am here staring up at my own private waterfall.
When the baby was about three weeks old, and i was starting to feel really pretty good, we packed the kids up and headed out to the mountains for a day of hiking. I bundled the baby up and strapped her on with the bjorn. My three-year-old is a natural with hiking stick in hand, so the four of us set out to see a waterfall. It was a gorgeous fall day- crisp clean air that you could feel cleansing your lungs and mind with each and every breath. the trails were lush with foliage and we enjoyed a pretty good voyage up the hill. We got to a decent lookout and decided that we'd hunker down to have a little snack. My husband and M went to see something aways off, and the baby and i sat on a boulder staring up at the waterfall ahead. I felt a peace that is nearly impossible to find in the daily life of a mother-of-two, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend... I felt deep in my heart that this was my moment. this was the refresher i had needed without even knowing it. this was my own private waterfall.
the more i thought over that statement, the more i embraced it, and soon fell in love. a waterfall appears to be so serene and full of peace, yet it is a constant rushing powerful force that never slows down, never ceases, never ends. it was this dichotomy that struck me as the perfect analogy for my life. because it is in the times of the absolute chaos when i feel most at peace in my life. when the phone is ringing, and the tv is too loud, and the ups guy needs a signature- all at the same time. when the baby is screaming, and M is running through the house naked, and the dog is barking, and the cat is scratching, and my husband is snoring- all at the same time... these are the moments that surround me, that rush me, that never cease to keep me going. this is the constant that keeps me serene. because i know that as long as all of this world is rushing right on around me, then i have my beautiful family, and friends, and life that i adore. so, it is from this place inside of me that can seem peaceful in the midst of crazy that i write to you each and every night. it is this place where i see myself when i close my eyes and need to redirect my energies. it is here, sitting on a boulder and staring up that i am at home- i am here staring up at my own private waterfall.
What a Wonderful day from HELL!
Fourteen hours ago we left our house, setting out on a pretty hefty undertaking. A 240+ mile trip down for a three-year-old's birthday party and a stop-off at our friends. Then back home again. With a three-year-old and a four-month-old. It seemed like a somewhat reasonable idea when we thought of it...
So, we left our home at about 8:45a.m. (ONLY 15 minutes later than our hopeful starting time!) We did need to stop for gas, air in the tires and coffee, so by the time we actually began, it was 9:15. still not bad, especially for me!
The trip down was great- at first. the baby slept, M played her video games, traffic moved. It was a beautiful day to be out on the road. Until, that is, the baby woke up. and M no longer wanted to play video games. and that was bad enough, to listen to a screaming baby and a whining toddler. but then, when we got within ten miles of our first destination, traffic Stopped! it just Stopped! on 85, dead stopped! and, when we finally get up to our exit, it is closed. as of 9:30p.m. last night (per the very helpful sign that really could have alerted us ten miles ago, so we could have planned out our alternate route with all of our free time in dead stopped traffic.) ok, no biggie, we follow the GPS directions to the next exit (1 mile=15 minutes), drive through midtown and around a bunch of streets until we finally arrive... at a red brick building in an alley. 'this isn't her house,' i say snidely, as if my husband had made a wrong turn (we are now 40 minutes past our, 'we'll be there in five' phone call from right before the closed exit...) 'you made sure to put in the correct direction on her street (i.e. NE vs NW), right?' i get asked... i'll save you from the rest of the conversation, because, as you may have guessed by now, no- i did not make sure of the direction of her street... i chose the first one that popped up... which evidently, led us to a red brick building in an alley, rather than her new home. Thirty more minutes later (and now with a hyperventilating baby and screaming toddler), we arrive. flustered and grumpy, but there. we visit for just over an hour (enough time for a great visit, but not nearly enough time. period.)
we leave there to drive just under 30 miles to the birthday party. the GPS-proclaimed 35 minutes took us, in actuality, an hour and fifteen minutes, because (of course) the on-ramps (every one we tried for 20 minutes) were closed to the highway we needed to enter. we were re-routed another 20 minutes out of our way before we were finally able to get back on track and begin our trek to the big bouncy birthday party. we were forty-five minutes late. we had a wonderful time with friends we haven't seen in way too many years, and again- it was enough time to enjoy them, but not nearly enough time. (period!)
we get back into the car at now 6:00p.m. to head back the 230 miles home. except now everyone is tired, and uncomfortable, and no one wants to sit in their car seats (or front seats), and no one wants to drive, but everyone wants to be home. we drive five minutes before pulling over to nurse the baby, and change her, because somewhere in the day she has gotten diarrhea (of course!) at 7:25p.m. we finally set out on our trek back home. the baby cries until about 8:30. M begins crying at about 8:25. it wasn't until after 9:30 that my husband and i were finally able to just breathe and really take in the entirety of this day. and then we laughed. a lot. at the asinine attempt to do this in one day. at the idiotic addressing of the GPS (by yours truly) for not entering NW (and forgetting that i did enter NE). for having two children, one of which cries more than she doesn't. for traveling with said children almost 500 miles and a total of just under 10 hours in the car- all for a one hour visit with friends and an hour and fifteen minutes at a bouncy birthday. we laughed and we fell in love with each other and our girls and the stories that we will tell about this day to come. and when we were done laughing, and the girls were finally done crying (and were even more finally asleep!) we turned the radio up and drove home on that open highway that we so much adore.
So, we left our home at about 8:45a.m. (ONLY 15 minutes later than our hopeful starting time!) We did need to stop for gas, air in the tires and coffee, so by the time we actually began, it was 9:15. still not bad, especially for me!
The trip down was great- at first. the baby slept, M played her video games, traffic moved. It was a beautiful day to be out on the road. Until, that is, the baby woke up. and M no longer wanted to play video games. and that was bad enough, to listen to a screaming baby and a whining toddler. but then, when we got within ten miles of our first destination, traffic Stopped! it just Stopped! on 85, dead stopped! and, when we finally get up to our exit, it is closed. as of 9:30p.m. last night (per the very helpful sign that really could have alerted us ten miles ago, so we could have planned out our alternate route with all of our free time in dead stopped traffic.) ok, no biggie, we follow the GPS directions to the next exit (1 mile=15 minutes), drive through midtown and around a bunch of streets until we finally arrive... at a red brick building in an alley. 'this isn't her house,' i say snidely, as if my husband had made a wrong turn (we are now 40 minutes past our, 'we'll be there in five' phone call from right before the closed exit...) 'you made sure to put in the correct direction on her street (i.e. NE vs NW), right?' i get asked... i'll save you from the rest of the conversation, because, as you may have guessed by now, no- i did not make sure of the direction of her street... i chose the first one that popped up... which evidently, led us to a red brick building in an alley, rather than her new home. Thirty more minutes later (and now with a hyperventilating baby and screaming toddler), we arrive. flustered and grumpy, but there. we visit for just over an hour (enough time for a great visit, but not nearly enough time. period.)
we leave there to drive just under 30 miles to the birthday party. the GPS-proclaimed 35 minutes took us, in actuality, an hour and fifteen minutes, because (of course) the on-ramps (every one we tried for 20 minutes) were closed to the highway we needed to enter. we were re-routed another 20 minutes out of our way before we were finally able to get back on track and begin our trek to the big bouncy birthday party. we were forty-five minutes late. we had a wonderful time with friends we haven't seen in way too many years, and again- it was enough time to enjoy them, but not nearly enough time. (period!)
we get back into the car at now 6:00p.m. to head back the 230 miles home. except now everyone is tired, and uncomfortable, and no one wants to sit in their car seats (or front seats), and no one wants to drive, but everyone wants to be home. we drive five minutes before pulling over to nurse the baby, and change her, because somewhere in the day she has gotten diarrhea (of course!) at 7:25p.m. we finally set out on our trek back home. the baby cries until about 8:30. M begins crying at about 8:25. it wasn't until after 9:30 that my husband and i were finally able to just breathe and really take in the entirety of this day. and then we laughed. a lot. at the asinine attempt to do this in one day. at the idiotic addressing of the GPS (by yours truly) for not entering NW (and forgetting that i did enter NE). for having two children, one of which cries more than she doesn't. for traveling with said children almost 500 miles and a total of just under 10 hours in the car- all for a one hour visit with friends and an hour and fifteen minutes at a bouncy birthday. we laughed and we fell in love with each other and our girls and the stories that we will tell about this day to come. and when we were done laughing, and the girls were finally done crying (and were even more finally asleep!) we turned the radio up and drove home on that open highway that we so much adore.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Momma's Girl...
My youngest daughter is a 100%, confirmed, bona fide Momma's Girl. This kid won't even give anyone else a break. I went out tonight with some girlfriends (the second time- not only in a month, but in one week!!!) my husband, God love him, tried. And tried and tried and tried. When this girl gets herself worked up, though, there is nothing anyone (but Mommy) can do to help her.
She cries, then screams, then hyperventilates. She makes any passersby think that she is being brutally tortured with hot irons. She has done all of this for me, too. Yet somehow, when she senses that i am gone, she takes it to another level. she finally fell asleep minutes before i walked in the door tonight sobbing. literally breathing with heavy sobs in her sleep. it is heartbreaking. and mortifying. she's so stubborn that it drives us crazy.
tonight, she just wanted me to hold her. she woke up minutes after i walked in (i'm sure smelling me in the air). she didn't even need nursies to fall back to sleep. she fell limp in my arms as soon as i picked her tired, sobbing body up.
it's not that she doesn't love my husband. of course she does. she just has this innate need deep inside of her that can only be quenched by her mother. she is a momma's girl through and through, and i am that momma. i appreciate the undying devotion that she gives to me. i love that she is a mommy's girl. But there are nights (like tonight) when really, having a daddy's girl wouldn't be so bad.
She cries, then screams, then hyperventilates. She makes any passersby think that she is being brutally tortured with hot irons. She has done all of this for me, too. Yet somehow, when she senses that i am gone, she takes it to another level. she finally fell asleep minutes before i walked in the door tonight sobbing. literally breathing with heavy sobs in her sleep. it is heartbreaking. and mortifying. she's so stubborn that it drives us crazy.
tonight, she just wanted me to hold her. she woke up minutes after i walked in (i'm sure smelling me in the air). she didn't even need nursies to fall back to sleep. she fell limp in my arms as soon as i picked her tired, sobbing body up.
it's not that she doesn't love my husband. of course she does. she just has this innate need deep inside of her that can only be quenched by her mother. she is a momma's girl through and through, and i am that momma. i appreciate the undying devotion that she gives to me. i love that she is a mommy's girl. But there are nights (like tonight) when really, having a daddy's girl wouldn't be so bad.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
and it's after 10 again...
every night, no matter what time i start out or what time i think it may be, when i go to get ready for bed it's already about 10:30. i have no idea where the vortex of time is that sucks out my evenings (and does not spit them back out at me), but here i am, once again, and it's 10:27 p.m. as i'm ready to pack it in.
i wish, for one night (or actually several) that i would be fooled by this, and i'd get all ready, hop in to bed and it would actually be 9:15 or something, but no- it's always about 10:twenty-something and i still have to let the dog out, wash my face, get my water, etc. etc. etc.
and tonight, i was so ready to have an early night, and then the baby wakes up (ok, not unusual for my household) and here i am, 10:28 and it feels like maybe pushing 9:30... since it was 9:30 when i went back in there to calm her down...
now, i've got to get to bed. for real. another hour that i would have wasted has been wasted for me...
i wish, for one night (or actually several) that i would be fooled by this, and i'd get all ready, hop in to bed and it would actually be 9:15 or something, but no- it's always about 10:twenty-something and i still have to let the dog out, wash my face, get my water, etc. etc. etc.
and tonight, i was so ready to have an early night, and then the baby wakes up (ok, not unusual for my household) and here i am, 10:28 and it feels like maybe pushing 9:30... since it was 9:30 when i went back in there to calm her down...
now, i've got to get to bed. for real. another hour that i would have wasted has been wasted for me...
Momma Bear...
I just came home from a wonderful dinner with my girlfriends. A much needed night out for all of us, i must say. i am stuffed full of good food, good wine, and good conversations. One such conversation that i had was about the strength of the Momma Bear instinct and how nothing, and i do mean nothing, can stand in its way.
i have only had a few circumstances in these past three plus years where i have felt my claws coming out- that is to say, where i felt the need so deep inside me to protect my children. and the most recent had nothing to do with an actual physical harm. yet the claws were out in full length and force, possibly stronger than ever before. my precious three-year-old was being picked on by other kids. teased. by girls. and i LOST IT. my natural reaction (which i luckily did not follow) was to rip their heads off. it broke my heart into a million pieces to see my daughter deflated by a couple of brats. the stabbing was more deep than any of the taunts i'd ever received throughout my own life. but there was little i could do. i corrected the kids (without decapitating them). i told my daughter that there was nothing wrong with what she had been doing. but at three, her ego had been dented. i saw that. but, thankfully, at three, it took less than ten minutes and a few jokes to get her back to her naturally happy self again.
it kills me to think that this is just the beginning, especially with having girls. girls can be mean, and catty, and spiteful. the claws that i had out the other day are nothing compared to the fangs that young females can sprout in a heartbeat. i don't know how or why this occurs. i can only guess it revolves around their already fragile esteems. but my daughter is so strong and confident for the most part. i want to bottle that up and pour it all over her when these instances occur. and i want to bottle up and pour arsenic on the girls who are eventually going to try to bring her down.
i know it's coming, and i know i'll need to let her fight her own battles. but for now, while she's three, and will still climb into my lap in the midst of her battle, i will stand strong and tall. with my momma grizzly arms wrapped tightly around her and my red eyes glaring down the perpetrators involved. hell may have no fury like a scorned woman, but little mean-girls on a playground have no idea what they're dealing with when it comes to the fury of a protective momma bear.
i have only had a few circumstances in these past three plus years where i have felt my claws coming out- that is to say, where i felt the need so deep inside me to protect my children. and the most recent had nothing to do with an actual physical harm. yet the claws were out in full length and force, possibly stronger than ever before. my precious three-year-old was being picked on by other kids. teased. by girls. and i LOST IT. my natural reaction (which i luckily did not follow) was to rip their heads off. it broke my heart into a million pieces to see my daughter deflated by a couple of brats. the stabbing was more deep than any of the taunts i'd ever received throughout my own life. but there was little i could do. i corrected the kids (without decapitating them). i told my daughter that there was nothing wrong with what she had been doing. but at three, her ego had been dented. i saw that. but, thankfully, at three, it took less than ten minutes and a few jokes to get her back to her naturally happy self again.
it kills me to think that this is just the beginning, especially with having girls. girls can be mean, and catty, and spiteful. the claws that i had out the other day are nothing compared to the fangs that young females can sprout in a heartbeat. i don't know how or why this occurs. i can only guess it revolves around their already fragile esteems. but my daughter is so strong and confident for the most part. i want to bottle that up and pour it all over her when these instances occur. and i want to bottle up and pour arsenic on the girls who are eventually going to try to bring her down.
i know it's coming, and i know i'll need to let her fight her own battles. but for now, while she's three, and will still climb into my lap in the midst of her battle, i will stand strong and tall. with my momma grizzly arms wrapped tightly around her and my red eyes glaring down the perpetrators involved. hell may have no fury like a scorned woman, but little mean-girls on a playground have no idea what they're dealing with when it comes to the fury of a protective momma bear.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Here's Johnny!!!
I used to work with a trauma surgeon who would recount crazy stories from the ER. His famous quote before each and every tale was, "You can't make this shit up." Well, here is my, "you-can't-make-this-shit-up" moment of the day...
A homeless man jumped out at my car today. He was standing on the side of the road as we were driving by, and he just lunged. he had a jack nicholson "here's johnny" look on him. i swerved, and when i glanced back, he was dancing and pointing and laughing with a toothless smile. it was eery. it was scary. i shook for about two hours afterwards.
my day had started out beautifully- snow white-esque. each of my girls sang beautifully from their own beds for a while as they woke up. birds chirped and the sun shone bright! i knew it was probably too good to be true, that the day would follow in that order, but to have a near death experience with a man who obviously didn't care about his own life, let alone my or my children's lives... that was not what i expected.
i actually don't think he was trying to kill himself, by any means. i was barely going 25MPH, and he jumped out towards my passenger door, not the hood. But, was he trying to grab the door handle, or hit the car, or was he just a crazy man playing a joke?!? i have no idea. all i know is that i am still frazzled just thinking about it. and thank God that M hadn't seen him, since he was inches from her door.
sometimes, i'm not sure what my role in this cosmos is to have this kind of stuff happen to me (because i guarantee these things don't happen to most), but here i am, getting ready for bed with the image of a jacked-up "johnny" laughing at me through my rear-view window. and i swear, people, "you can't make this shit up!"
A homeless man jumped out at my car today. He was standing on the side of the road as we were driving by, and he just lunged. he had a jack nicholson "here's johnny" look on him. i swerved, and when i glanced back, he was dancing and pointing and laughing with a toothless smile. it was eery. it was scary. i shook for about two hours afterwards.
my day had started out beautifully- snow white-esque. each of my girls sang beautifully from their own beds for a while as they woke up. birds chirped and the sun shone bright! i knew it was probably too good to be true, that the day would follow in that order, but to have a near death experience with a man who obviously didn't care about his own life, let alone my or my children's lives... that was not what i expected.
i actually don't think he was trying to kill himself, by any means. i was barely going 25MPH, and he jumped out towards my passenger door, not the hood. But, was he trying to grab the door handle, or hit the car, or was he just a crazy man playing a joke?!? i have no idea. all i know is that i am still frazzled just thinking about it. and thank God that M hadn't seen him, since he was inches from her door.
sometimes, i'm not sure what my role in this cosmos is to have this kind of stuff happen to me (because i guarantee these things don't happen to most), but here i am, getting ready for bed with the image of a jacked-up "johnny" laughing at me through my rear-view window. and i swear, people, "you can't make this shit up!"
Monday, February 21, 2011
Who's that Baby?
I thought of this story as I had to tip-toe back in to turn on the baby monitor after i had already put the baby to sleep. This story happened three years ago, when M was about four months old, but it will haunt me forever.
After putting the (then) baby to bed, I walked into my room (a few feet away) and switched on the tv portion of our video baby monitor. i glanced down at it as i was walking away. i did a double-take. i walked back and stared directly down at the screen. the first thing that caught my attention was that the baby had moved halfway across the crib and diagonal- like i said, i had walked only a few feet away. and, she wasn't able to move like that, yet!) the second thing that caught my eye was that the crib slats were wooden. we have an iron-barred crib. the third (and GLARING) thing i noticed was that this was NOT MY BABY!!! I gasped! I broke out into a cold sweat. I paced back and forth. I turned the screen off, then on again. I began to cry. I was terrified. I would have been better off if the little girl from the Exorcist was staring back at me when i turned that screen on. Seeing another baby on my baby's monitor was seriously enough to put me over the edge.
Once I had run in to check that the baby was okay (she was!) and I had calmed down a bit, i realized that i had switched the channel by accident. When i switched it back to the correct one, i saw my own child in the center of her iron-barred crib, peacefully oblivious to the nervous breakdown i was nursing in the next room.
So, i unplugged the monitor and ran in to unplug the camera portion. i packed it into a box and never used it again. it really freaked me out. because once everything really did settle, all i could think about was that if i could see that other person's baby, who could be seeing mine? and that was where i drew the line. we went monitor-less from that point on.
now, three years late, we do have a sound monitor that we use with B. i hadn't thought about this incident in a while, until something struck me today. anyone with any device which broadcasts on similar channels could potentially pick up our waves. up until today, i had not turned off the transmitter part (that sits in her room) at all. literally, it's been on since we put it in there. out of nowhere, i had a paranoid thought today and imagined some sicko listening to all of our conversations through the small receiver that comes with every $15.99 baby monitor from target. so, i flipped the switch off. i walked away thinking about seeing that other baby in the video, and i've had the heebie-jeebies all day.
and then, when i came out after putting her to bed, i realized i forgot to turn it back on. so, i snuck bak in to do it. and then came to the conclusion that i'll probably forget to turn it off tomorrow, and i'll probably forget this story for another couple months, and whoever is listening in will probably laugh at my endeavor. or maybe, just maybe i'll try to go monitor-less again. maybe.
After putting the (then) baby to bed, I walked into my room (a few feet away) and switched on the tv portion of our video baby monitor. i glanced down at it as i was walking away. i did a double-take. i walked back and stared directly down at the screen. the first thing that caught my attention was that the baby had moved halfway across the crib and diagonal- like i said, i had walked only a few feet away. and, she wasn't able to move like that, yet!) the second thing that caught my eye was that the crib slats were wooden. we have an iron-barred crib. the third (and GLARING) thing i noticed was that this was NOT MY BABY!!! I gasped! I broke out into a cold sweat. I paced back and forth. I turned the screen off, then on again. I began to cry. I was terrified. I would have been better off if the little girl from the Exorcist was staring back at me when i turned that screen on. Seeing another baby on my baby's monitor was seriously enough to put me over the edge.
Once I had run in to check that the baby was okay (she was!) and I had calmed down a bit, i realized that i had switched the channel by accident. When i switched it back to the correct one, i saw my own child in the center of her iron-barred crib, peacefully oblivious to the nervous breakdown i was nursing in the next room.
So, i unplugged the monitor and ran in to unplug the camera portion. i packed it into a box and never used it again. it really freaked me out. because once everything really did settle, all i could think about was that if i could see that other person's baby, who could be seeing mine? and that was where i drew the line. we went monitor-less from that point on.
now, three years late, we do have a sound monitor that we use with B. i hadn't thought about this incident in a while, until something struck me today. anyone with any device which broadcasts on similar channels could potentially pick up our waves. up until today, i had not turned off the transmitter part (that sits in her room) at all. literally, it's been on since we put it in there. out of nowhere, i had a paranoid thought today and imagined some sicko listening to all of our conversations through the small receiver that comes with every $15.99 baby monitor from target. so, i flipped the switch off. i walked away thinking about seeing that other baby in the video, and i've had the heebie-jeebies all day.
and then, when i came out after putting her to bed, i realized i forgot to turn it back on. so, i snuck bak in to do it. and then came to the conclusion that i'll probably forget to turn it off tomorrow, and i'll probably forget this story for another couple months, and whoever is listening in will probably laugh at my endeavor. or maybe, just maybe i'll try to go monitor-less again. maybe.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Twenty-Four...
Twenty-four hours ago i was pumped up and ready to watch a movie with my husband. by the time he finished putting M to bed, it was close to 10:00, and i had lost my zest. we watched tv and headed to bed around 11:00. minutes after i turned the light off, i heard a sound equal to that of a hurt, or worse, dying seal. i asked my husband what he thought. he did not think it was a hurt or dying seal in the house. i heard it again, and this time was able to track it to the baby's room. she was coughing a hard and serious croup. i waited to see if she would fall back asleep, but it only took a few minutes before she was up, crying and coughing and crying and coughing... i headed in.
the next few hours involved me walking, rocking, singing, nursing, etc., etc., etc. the baby back to sleep. although, there was no sleep. not for a very long time. and when she did, she slept in very short snippets of sniffles, coughs, and cries. this lasted until the sun came up (i was actually sitting in the rocking chair with her as her bedroom became light this morning.) she never actually slept much at all.
At 8:00 a.m., my alarm clock went off (seriously, on a sunday!?!) i grudgingly got up and chugged (yes, chugged) a cup of coffee. i showered and somehow managed to get dressed, eat, get M dressed and make sure she ate, and get us out the door by 9:30 (closer to 9:40, but who was really counting...) we kissed P and B good-bye (and wished them luck for the day), and headed out on our date! Yes, folks, that's right, i got to take M on a mommy-daughter date of our own! We went to the movies with some friends and ate lunch out at red robin! SO MUCH FUN!
we got home around 2:00 and that was pretty close to when my brain stopped functioning and i coasted through much of the rest of the afternoon. we cleaned a bit, watched star wars (again), played with moon dough, and just had a generally relaxing afternoon.
thankfully, the baby seemed much better throughout the day. she slept a lot (i was jealous.) i'm praying for a fully-recovered night tonight! and now, twenty-four minutes after i began this post, i am signing off for the night. to sleep, hopefully, a LOT!
the next few hours involved me walking, rocking, singing, nursing, etc., etc., etc. the baby back to sleep. although, there was no sleep. not for a very long time. and when she did, she slept in very short snippets of sniffles, coughs, and cries. this lasted until the sun came up (i was actually sitting in the rocking chair with her as her bedroom became light this morning.) she never actually slept much at all.
At 8:00 a.m., my alarm clock went off (seriously, on a sunday!?!) i grudgingly got up and chugged (yes, chugged) a cup of coffee. i showered and somehow managed to get dressed, eat, get M dressed and make sure she ate, and get us out the door by 9:30 (closer to 9:40, but who was really counting...) we kissed P and B good-bye (and wished them luck for the day), and headed out on our date! Yes, folks, that's right, i got to take M on a mommy-daughter date of our own! We went to the movies with some friends and ate lunch out at red robin! SO MUCH FUN!
we got home around 2:00 and that was pretty close to when my brain stopped functioning and i coasted through much of the rest of the afternoon. we cleaned a bit, watched star wars (again), played with moon dough, and just had a generally relaxing afternoon.
thankfully, the baby seemed much better throughout the day. she slept a lot (i was jealous.) i'm praying for a fully-recovered night tonight! and now, twenty-four minutes after i began this post, i am signing off for the night. to sleep, hopefully, a LOT!
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Saturday... in the park...
It was absolutely gorgeous today. Gorgeous! no other words for it! we spent much of it at our own little "central park", if you will. i should have known that it would be a popular destination on a day like today, but i just hadn't thought about it. so, we drove over around 3:00 (you know, prime time park time on a beautiful saturday afternoon) and there were about four cars trying to turn left into the entrance (in front of us- this doesn't include the other four cars turning right from the opposite direction...) again, i didn't think much of this.
we finally drove in the long and narrow driveway, and we were stopped. as far as we could see were cars. cars waiting for someone to pull out, or following people to their cars, or just generally stopped?!? ok, well, we were already in, and we couldn't get out if we tried. after about 10 minutes of slowly moving through the sludge of traffic, we circled back around (no parking spots in sight) and decided to leave the park. this resulted in an already tired three-year-old screaming at the top of her lungs. luckily at that moment, a spot opened up and we snatched it. three-year-old meltdown averted!
we then took our separate ways. My husband took a soccer ball and M and headed to the playground. the baby and i hit the nature trail to get us over to the park's main loop for a good ol' fashioned jog! i was so pumped up- so ready to run! and i set out at such a good pace that i got ultra-cocky and thought that this whole outing would be an absolute breeze.
and it would have been, had it been 9:30 on a weekday morning, or a crappy day out. but at 3:00 on the nicest afternoon in months, there would be no breeze. literally. i hit the loop at a decent pace and may as well have hit a brick wall with the amount of people walking, skating, tricycling, talking, smoking (yeah- i know), etc'ing in the middle, left, right- everywhere on that path. and it's a wide path! there were people, dogs, kids, babies, leashes wrapped around strollers... everywhere. i couldn't move. there was no running. there was barely even walking. and then, because of my immediate break in pace, the baby began to cry. no, not cry, wail. this was baby wah-wah at her greatest. she screamed so loud that people turned to stare. she screamed so loud that people actually stared me down as if i had put my baby on a bed of knives inside the stroller. it was bad. it was so bad that people who would not normally move off a path (you know those kinds of people) actually stepped aside. it was that bad. i wanted to pick her up as much as she wanted to get out of there. okay, maybe she wanted it more. she was hysterically crying to the point of hyperventilating, but this absolute badness was actually good.
people moved. and i moved! fast! and steady! it was great! she cried, they shifted and i ran. the louder she was, the further they veered, the faster i ran. i may record her and play this as my incentive music for the 10K. that's how great her crying got me to move. we made it to the playground quicker than i could have ever imagined. and i re-fell in love with the day again!
we reconnected with the rest of our family, took the baby out of the stroller (which thankfully resulted in baby happy-happy showing up!) and we played soccer in a field. it was wonderful; heavenly; perfect. a beautiful day spent with the family, and a valuable lesson learned by me. we will probably never return to the park on a gorgeous saturday afternoon again, but we'll always have our memories! and i'll always have my best run times yet, to date!
we finally drove in the long and narrow driveway, and we were stopped. as far as we could see were cars. cars waiting for someone to pull out, or following people to their cars, or just generally stopped?!? ok, well, we were already in, and we couldn't get out if we tried. after about 10 minutes of slowly moving through the sludge of traffic, we circled back around (no parking spots in sight) and decided to leave the park. this resulted in an already tired three-year-old screaming at the top of her lungs. luckily at that moment, a spot opened up and we snatched it. three-year-old meltdown averted!
we then took our separate ways. My husband took a soccer ball and M and headed to the playground. the baby and i hit the nature trail to get us over to the park's main loop for a good ol' fashioned jog! i was so pumped up- so ready to run! and i set out at such a good pace that i got ultra-cocky and thought that this whole outing would be an absolute breeze.
and it would have been, had it been 9:30 on a weekday morning, or a crappy day out. but at 3:00 on the nicest afternoon in months, there would be no breeze. literally. i hit the loop at a decent pace and may as well have hit a brick wall with the amount of people walking, skating, tricycling, talking, smoking (yeah- i know), etc'ing in the middle, left, right- everywhere on that path. and it's a wide path! there were people, dogs, kids, babies, leashes wrapped around strollers... everywhere. i couldn't move. there was no running. there was barely even walking. and then, because of my immediate break in pace, the baby began to cry. no, not cry, wail. this was baby wah-wah at her greatest. she screamed so loud that people turned to stare. she screamed so loud that people actually stared me down as if i had put my baby on a bed of knives inside the stroller. it was bad. it was so bad that people who would not normally move off a path (you know those kinds of people) actually stepped aside. it was that bad. i wanted to pick her up as much as she wanted to get out of there. okay, maybe she wanted it more. she was hysterically crying to the point of hyperventilating, but this absolute badness was actually good.
people moved. and i moved! fast! and steady! it was great! she cried, they shifted and i ran. the louder she was, the further they veered, the faster i ran. i may record her and play this as my incentive music for the 10K. that's how great her crying got me to move. we made it to the playground quicker than i could have ever imagined. and i re-fell in love with the day again!
we reconnected with the rest of our family, took the baby out of the stroller (which thankfully resulted in baby happy-happy showing up!) and we played soccer in a field. it was wonderful; heavenly; perfect. a beautiful day spent with the family, and a valuable lesson learned by me. we will probably never return to the park on a gorgeous saturday afternoon again, but we'll always have our memories! and i'll always have my best run times yet, to date!
Friday, February 18, 2011
A beautiful day in the neighborhood!
it was 70 degrees by 10:00 a.m. today. in february, this is truly a gift from god! i dropped M off at school and took the baby to the park to attempt to run the loop... to prepare, once again, for that 10K i'm signed up for in less than two months.
i walked briskly and jogged well for just under three miles. i was so impressed with myself! it must have been the nice weather! when i could barely stand to breathe any more breaths, we came home and cleaned up the yard to remove all of the errant dog *stuff* that i haven't thought about in months (okay, possibly years). again, this nice weather must be like an aphrodisiac... not for love, but for productivity! oh, AND i cleaned out my car! everything- not just the trash that collects from snack wrappers and juice boxes that never quite make it out of the crevices under the seats. no- EVERYTHING! i brought in papers and sweaters (not needed today! yay!) and small toys and, well, you get the point.
OH, and i cleaned off the patio, too!
AMAZING! AND, i am all pumped up to go for another run (okay, brisk walk/jog) tomorrow morning!
this post isn't very exciting or witty or fun, but i am proud of my accomplishments and i am bragging, sort of! i'm actually more shocked than anything. and hopeful, beyond words, that i can do this again tomorrow, and for many days to come!
i walked briskly and jogged well for just under three miles. i was so impressed with myself! it must have been the nice weather! when i could barely stand to breathe any more breaths, we came home and cleaned up the yard to remove all of the errant dog *stuff* that i haven't thought about in months (okay, possibly years). again, this nice weather must be like an aphrodisiac... not for love, but for productivity! oh, AND i cleaned out my car! everything- not just the trash that collects from snack wrappers and juice boxes that never quite make it out of the crevices under the seats. no- EVERYTHING! i brought in papers and sweaters (not needed today! yay!) and small toys and, well, you get the point.
OH, and i cleaned off the patio, too!
AMAZING! AND, i am all pumped up to go for another run (okay, brisk walk/jog) tomorrow morning!
this post isn't very exciting or witty or fun, but i am proud of my accomplishments and i am bragging, sort of! i'm actually more shocked than anything. and hopeful, beyond words, that i can do this again tomorrow, and for many days to come!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
food, food- glorious food!
i love food. and beer. and wine. and cookies. this list could actually go on for days, so i'll stop. you get the point- i LOVE food. so, here i am, four months post-natal, and i am realizing that i really need to stop loving food if i want to ever get back into my pre-natal clothes again... and i do. i really, really do. so, today (although it is far from monday), i started my "healthy eating choices" (i prefer any term or grouping of words over the dreaded word, "diet".)
I did great- i would list it all out, but it's boring (because it's "healthy eating choices" verses chocolate covered chocolate...) and then my husband came home from work. and he had surprises (which he'd ordered for valentine's day, but they arrived today.) he had a t-shirt for our three-year-old and a teddy bear for the baby. and he'd ordered two nice solid beer mugs for me and him. they were very cool. and it was absolutely the most gorgeous weather outside when he got here with said mugs. so, he offered to pour us some beers and i said, "no, thank you." i really did. i said, "no" to a beer (something i am known to NOT ever do.) i asked for water in my mug instead. he made an incredulous face, but acknowledged that i was serious and he went to the kitchen to pour a beer and a water. and then my daughter opened the door to the outside and the sunshine poured its own tall drink of beauty into my living room, and i crumbled. i really did.
i called to the kitchen to scrap the water and pour me a beer. and yes, i was sure.
i sat here, watching the sun hit my daughter's face, and knowing that sitting outside watching her play in the yard, and watching him drink a beer in his new beer mug, and having me drinking water out of mine, was just not going to work for me.
what point is it to being skinny if i'm not allowed to have a beer on one of the first beautiful days of the year? i do have priorities, after-all. and my priorities (no matter how much i love my pre-pregnancy clothes, and i am SO ready to get back into them), my priorities are to enjoy my evenings with my family in a nice and relaxing, beer-in-new-mug-in-hand, way. and, so, i did!
I did great- i would list it all out, but it's boring (because it's "healthy eating choices" verses chocolate covered chocolate...) and then my husband came home from work. and he had surprises (which he'd ordered for valentine's day, but they arrived today.) he had a t-shirt for our three-year-old and a teddy bear for the baby. and he'd ordered two nice solid beer mugs for me and him. they were very cool. and it was absolutely the most gorgeous weather outside when he got here with said mugs. so, he offered to pour us some beers and i said, "no, thank you." i really did. i said, "no" to a beer (something i am known to NOT ever do.) i asked for water in my mug instead. he made an incredulous face, but acknowledged that i was serious and he went to the kitchen to pour a beer and a water. and then my daughter opened the door to the outside and the sunshine poured its own tall drink of beauty into my living room, and i crumbled. i really did.
i called to the kitchen to scrap the water and pour me a beer. and yes, i was sure.
i sat here, watching the sun hit my daughter's face, and knowing that sitting outside watching her play in the yard, and watching him drink a beer in his new beer mug, and having me drinking water out of mine, was just not going to work for me.
what point is it to being skinny if i'm not allowed to have a beer on one of the first beautiful days of the year? i do have priorities, after-all. and my priorities (no matter how much i love my pre-pregnancy clothes, and i am SO ready to get back into them), my priorities are to enjoy my evenings with my family in a nice and relaxing, beer-in-new-mug-in-hand, way. and, so, i did!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
one hour later...
i am a mostly patient person... with my children... most of the time. but there is one thing that drives me absolutely insane, even though it's all my fault to begin with. it is bedtime. more specifically, a bedtime that lasts longer than 15 minutes.
my husband is usually in charge of putting our three-year-old to bed. that is the time of night when i try to finish up things around the house, or god-forbid, pick up a magazine or book or catch up on tivo... there's a lot i can do in any amount of kidless time!
but today, i had a few very stressful moments with her, so when 8:00 rolled around, i said, very optimistically, that i was going to put her to bed, so i could spend some good snuggle-happy-time with her!
(on a small aside, she asks me every night to put her to bed, and sounds disappointed when i tell her that daddy is putting her to bed. so, naturally, i thought that my announcement would make her ecstatic! no! on the contrary, she sounded heartbroken and asked why daddy wasn't putting her to bed- this actually made me very happy to know that there is just no pleasing her in this area. now i can forget any guilty feelings i might feel on most given nights. this also made my husband extremely happy, because she wanted him to put her to bed. which, looking back, i should have just let him do...)
so, optimistically, i say i'm putting her to bed- at 8:00. it was not until 8:45 that we actually lay down to read a book (a series of things set us back, some of which could have been controlled, but whatever.) we read our book, and i turned off the light. (this is where the "all my fault" part comes in, because i've allowed this to go on for too many years...) and then we wait. each and every night, whoever is putting her to bed, turns the light off and waits. she will not go to sleep if we are not there (yes, we could let her cry herself to sleep, i know.) and even when we are there (as was evident tonight), she doesn't always go to sleep. tonight, it took her one hour and five minutes to actually fall asleep.
at first, she giggled and tried to carry on a conversation, which i quickly cut off. then, she had to go to the bathroom (again), which she knows i can't deny. then she needed a tissue. then she didn't like the way her pillow was situated. i threatened to leave what felt like three hundred times, each time, getting more and more frustrated. there is no reason in the world that it should take a three-year-old over an hour to fall asleep. especially an extremely active kid who should seriously just drop from exhaustion each night when the sun goes down (like i want to.)
the only positive that i can focus on from this evening's outrageously annoying, way-too-long bedtime is that i took a few catnaps in the silences that lay between her attempts to prolong bedtime again and again and again. and the negative, of course, was that i lost one hour of my catching up on tivo time, did not pick up a book or magazine, and will not get to tidy up the house. because, i am now, with no hour-long delays, going to bed!
my husband is usually in charge of putting our three-year-old to bed. that is the time of night when i try to finish up things around the house, or god-forbid, pick up a magazine or book or catch up on tivo... there's a lot i can do in any amount of kidless time!
but today, i had a few very stressful moments with her, so when 8:00 rolled around, i said, very optimistically, that i was going to put her to bed, so i could spend some good snuggle-happy-time with her!
(on a small aside, she asks me every night to put her to bed, and sounds disappointed when i tell her that daddy is putting her to bed. so, naturally, i thought that my announcement would make her ecstatic! no! on the contrary, she sounded heartbroken and asked why daddy wasn't putting her to bed- this actually made me very happy to know that there is just no pleasing her in this area. now i can forget any guilty feelings i might feel on most given nights. this also made my husband extremely happy, because she wanted him to put her to bed. which, looking back, i should have just let him do...)
so, optimistically, i say i'm putting her to bed- at 8:00. it was not until 8:45 that we actually lay down to read a book (a series of things set us back, some of which could have been controlled, but whatever.) we read our book, and i turned off the light. (this is where the "all my fault" part comes in, because i've allowed this to go on for too many years...) and then we wait. each and every night, whoever is putting her to bed, turns the light off and waits. she will not go to sleep if we are not there (yes, we could let her cry herself to sleep, i know.) and even when we are there (as was evident tonight), she doesn't always go to sleep. tonight, it took her one hour and five minutes to actually fall asleep.
at first, she giggled and tried to carry on a conversation, which i quickly cut off. then, she had to go to the bathroom (again), which she knows i can't deny. then she needed a tissue. then she didn't like the way her pillow was situated. i threatened to leave what felt like three hundred times, each time, getting more and more frustrated. there is no reason in the world that it should take a three-year-old over an hour to fall asleep. especially an extremely active kid who should seriously just drop from exhaustion each night when the sun goes down (like i want to.)
the only positive that i can focus on from this evening's outrageously annoying, way-too-long bedtime is that i took a few catnaps in the silences that lay between her attempts to prolong bedtime again and again and again. and the negative, of course, was that i lost one hour of my catching up on tivo time, did not pick up a book or magazine, and will not get to tidy up the house. because, i am now, with no hour-long delays, going to bed!
drunken lullabies
we just got home from one of the most amazing shows i've ever seen. flogging molly, an irish band with much punk influence, played their annual Green 17 Tour (leading up to St. Paddy's Day), and we saw them, just like we do every year. tonight was no exception to the wonder that they impart.
the way i felt at this show- i can only liken it to what i imagine an athlete feels when he makes that goal/basket/touchdown, etc., or what an artist feels when she brushes the last strokes of a masterpiece... i feel a rush of an amazing fulfillment that really cannot be put into words. i feel i could fly on the lightness of my heart. the music carrying me away. it is this amazing place that i know i belong, and the louder and faster the music gets, the bigger and stronger i feel.
i would guess that many of you have not felt this rush that i am describing, but if i could recommend one thing, it would be to go out and buy the album, 'drunken lullabies.' listen to it, feel it, live it. then but the rest of their albums and do the same. turn the music up in the car, especially when the kids are not in it (although do not let that impede your listening pleasure!) let it fill you with the freedom that your mind should feel, at least every once in a while; let it clear your mind of the lists of to-do's that linger in your mind- no worries of laundry, dishes, lunches, groceries, etc etc etc! NO- just listen and let your mind go!
"Cause we find ourselves in the same old mess, singing drunken lullabies!"
the way i felt at this show- i can only liken it to what i imagine an athlete feels when he makes that goal/basket/touchdown, etc., or what an artist feels when she brushes the last strokes of a masterpiece... i feel a rush of an amazing fulfillment that really cannot be put into words. i feel i could fly on the lightness of my heart. the music carrying me away. it is this amazing place that i know i belong, and the louder and faster the music gets, the bigger and stronger i feel.
i would guess that many of you have not felt this rush that i am describing, but if i could recommend one thing, it would be to go out and buy the album, 'drunken lullabies.' listen to it, feel it, live it. then but the rest of their albums and do the same. turn the music up in the car, especially when the kids are not in it (although do not let that impede your listening pleasure!) let it fill you with the freedom that your mind should feel, at least every once in a while; let it clear your mind of the lists of to-do's that linger in your mind- no worries of laundry, dishes, lunches, groceries, etc etc etc! NO- just listen and let your mind go!
"Cause we find ourselves in the same old mess, singing drunken lullabies!"
Monday, February 14, 2011
And the party starts NOW...
it's 9:17p.m., and i am in my pajamas and ready for bed. this is not the normal me, but this is the current me. the exhausted me. the me that can't remember what it's like to start to get ready to go out on the town at 9:00(p.m.!) this is the four-months-in-to-infantry and two-weeks-post-sick-kid me. i do not want this to be the new me.
my husband and i have a date coming up- a very romantic date that we take almost every year around this time. so romantic, in fact, that we will be pushed up against each other in a very sweaty fashion for most of the evening. our hearts will be pumping fast with beautiful melodies humming through our ears. okay, really, we are going to see one of my favorite bands play at a smaller-type club downtown. there will be so many people crunched into this club, that whether we dance or not, we will be pushed up against each other, sweating. this is my kind of night- the kind that i spent almost every weekend of my youth. i CANNOT wait for this night!
BUT (and i so reluctantly write these words...) But... i cannot even imagine that we are going to GO OUT at 9:00p.m. on a week night (although with children, there are no weekends/weeknights anymore...) i am going to get dressed to leave my house at 9:00p.m. and that is just the very beginning to my evening. that is before drinks, before the opening bands, before my band, and before the after-band drinks... this is going to be a long and late night. Never, in my entire life, have i ever had thoughts like this. i can honestly say that it has never even phased me that any night would be a "long and late" night. i am a night owl. i was born to go out after hours. i have always been known to be (i was going to write 'lady of the evening' but thought better of that expression...) an avid fan of the dark! and now, the recent me is a changed and ruined person. i can't keep my eyes open to write the rest of these sentences and i'm supposed to somehow prepare myself for an entire night of fun- loud, raucousy fun!
okay, enough sounding like a pansy. i'm going to girl-up and get ready for this big night out. i'm going to go to bed now to prepare myself (mentally, as well as physically) for a really fun (loud and raucous and all) night out with my husband and friends. we are going to drink beer and dance and forget that the clock even exists. we are going to act like we did (dare i say it) before we had children. or at least before we had two children who physically drained the hell out of me!
i can do it. i know i can. i may need to get a quadruple shot espresso on our way to the show, but i will be there- fully present in mind and body- for the big night that i have been looking forward to for months and months. i will probably be exhausted for months and months after, but it will all be worth it- every single loud, long, and late second that i'm out.
my husband and i have a date coming up- a very romantic date that we take almost every year around this time. so romantic, in fact, that we will be pushed up against each other in a very sweaty fashion for most of the evening. our hearts will be pumping fast with beautiful melodies humming through our ears. okay, really, we are going to see one of my favorite bands play at a smaller-type club downtown. there will be so many people crunched into this club, that whether we dance or not, we will be pushed up against each other, sweating. this is my kind of night- the kind that i spent almost every weekend of my youth. i CANNOT wait for this night!
BUT (and i so reluctantly write these words...) But... i cannot even imagine that we are going to GO OUT at 9:00p.m. on a week night (although with children, there are no weekends/weeknights anymore...) i am going to get dressed to leave my house at 9:00p.m. and that is just the very beginning to my evening. that is before drinks, before the opening bands, before my band, and before the after-band drinks... this is going to be a long and late night. Never, in my entire life, have i ever had thoughts like this. i can honestly say that it has never even phased me that any night would be a "long and late" night. i am a night owl. i was born to go out after hours. i have always been known to be (i was going to write 'lady of the evening' but thought better of that expression...) an avid fan of the dark! and now, the recent me is a changed and ruined person. i can't keep my eyes open to write the rest of these sentences and i'm supposed to somehow prepare myself for an entire night of fun- loud, raucousy fun!
okay, enough sounding like a pansy. i'm going to girl-up and get ready for this big night out. i'm going to go to bed now to prepare myself (mentally, as well as physically) for a really fun (loud and raucous and all) night out with my husband and friends. we are going to drink beer and dance and forget that the clock even exists. we are going to act like we did (dare i say it) before we had children. or at least before we had two children who physically drained the hell out of me!
i can do it. i know i can. i may need to get a quadruple shot espresso on our way to the show, but i will be there- fully present in mind and body- for the big night that i have been looking forward to for months and months. i will probably be exhausted for months and months after, but it will all be worth it- every single loud, long, and late second that i'm out.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
and yet another year flies by...
one year ago tonight (it was a saturday), my husband and i sat at our favorite local restaurant at just about this time of night. as i was ordering my third beer, i casually joked, "i hope i'm not pregnant." and he looked at me funnily. "could you be?" he asked, and i thought about it. i had been trying to keep track of my cycle for a few months at that point, so i pulled out my droid and opened up my handy-dandy 'app for that'! "Hmmm," was my answer to him. after a bit of nervous laughter, i realized that i could, in fact, very much be pregnant, because i was over a week late. (i had not been keeping track as well as i thought, evidently.) "i shouldn't drink the rest of this," i said very, very sadly. "you may not be pregnant," P said very, very hopefully.
the next day (valentine's day morning), i woke up and took a test (i used to buy them in bulk, so i always had a test in the closet). three minutes later, after chugging a whole mug of coffee- just in case, P and i (with a sweet little two year old tagging along) walked into the bathroom to check the results. we stared at each other in shock as we read, clear as day, "PREGNANT." we both smiled and said, "happy valentine's day," and walked out of the room.
about twenty minutes later, after the shock wore off, we ecstatically congratulated each other and M and the three of us danced around the kitchen! it was the greatest (and honestly, pretty much most unexpected) valentine's surprise!
i stared at the baby tonight as i put her to bed. one year ago tomorrow, i found out that she was alive in my belly. tomorrow, she will be exactly four months old. this year (like so many as i get older) has been the fastest year of my life.
it seems like it was yesterday morning that i danced around the kitchen with my husband and my daughter, singing about a baby in my belly. it seems like it was yesterday that we took M to the 20 week ultrasound, where we specifically asked NOT to know the sex of our baby, where we saw her perfect little body and heard her perfect little heart beat and we cried happy tears. it seems like it was just yesterday that i awoke in the middle of the night with contractions that felt nothing like contractions, and was told, "It's a GIRL!!!" just hours later. but in thinking back to that moment, it feels like it was just yesterday that i heard, "it's a GIRL!!!" for the first time in my life. and that was almost three and a half years ago.
some days, i swear i just stare at my girls, trying to soak in every detail exactly as it is now, because i know that in just a few short tomorrows, they'll be getting on their first school bus, or walking out the door on a first date. i want to grab them and suspend time, to hold them at exactly this moment forever. but i can't. all i can do is watch them and take it all in. and hold on tight to these moments that we have- even the crazy ones. because the next time i blink, P will be walking M or B down the aisle to hand her over to her new life, and at that time, this moment now will feel like it was just yesterday, too.
the next day (valentine's day morning), i woke up and took a test (i used to buy them in bulk, so i always had a test in the closet). three minutes later, after chugging a whole mug of coffee- just in case, P and i (with a sweet little two year old tagging along) walked into the bathroom to check the results. we stared at each other in shock as we read, clear as day, "PREGNANT." we both smiled and said, "happy valentine's day," and walked out of the room.
about twenty minutes later, after the shock wore off, we ecstatically congratulated each other and M and the three of us danced around the kitchen! it was the greatest (and honestly, pretty much most unexpected) valentine's surprise!
i stared at the baby tonight as i put her to bed. one year ago tomorrow, i found out that she was alive in my belly. tomorrow, she will be exactly four months old. this year (like so many as i get older) has been the fastest year of my life.
it seems like it was yesterday morning that i danced around the kitchen with my husband and my daughter, singing about a baby in my belly. it seems like it was yesterday that we took M to the 20 week ultrasound, where we specifically asked NOT to know the sex of our baby, where we saw her perfect little body and heard her perfect little heart beat and we cried happy tears. it seems like it was just yesterday that i awoke in the middle of the night with contractions that felt nothing like contractions, and was told, "It's a GIRL!!!" just hours later. but in thinking back to that moment, it feels like it was just yesterday that i heard, "it's a GIRL!!!" for the first time in my life. and that was almost three and a half years ago.
some days, i swear i just stare at my girls, trying to soak in every detail exactly as it is now, because i know that in just a few short tomorrows, they'll be getting on their first school bus, or walking out the door on a first date. i want to grab them and suspend time, to hold them at exactly this moment forever. but i can't. all i can do is watch them and take it all in. and hold on tight to these moments that we have- even the crazy ones. because the next time i blink, P will be walking M or B down the aisle to hand her over to her new life, and at that time, this moment now will feel like it was just yesterday, too.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
10:32 on a saturday night...
i am going to bed. i am writing this to make it a fact. i am going to bed at 10:32 on a saturday night. this is coming after a 1:00a.m. bedtime last night, and a long string of midnights preceding. i am exhausted. exhaustion like when your eye lids feel like cast iron skillets and your brain feels like the bacon sizzling inside!
due to this brain (in)activity, i have virtually no thoughts in my head to even try to convey.
so, for tonight, this is a short and sweet post. and with that, i am off to meet the sandman for an illustrious rendezvous of dream-filled sleep! glorious, glorious sleep!
due to this brain (in)activity, i have virtually no thoughts in my head to even try to convey.
so, for tonight, this is a short and sweet post. and with that, i am off to meet the sandman for an illustrious rendezvous of dream-filled sleep! glorious, glorious sleep!
Friday, February 11, 2011
remember when we were young...
we had friends over for dinner tonight. a good time was had by all (and my three year old is still in the process of going to sleep at almost 11:30p- the baby just went to bed five minutes ago... so, again, a good time was had by ALL). on the adult side, somehow we got on the topic of how we met our significant others... i love this story. i love thinking about it; i love how and that it ever (or better yet- even) happened.
im going with the abridged version, because, like my children, i'd like to crash soon, too!
P and i were (and are) the two most UNLIKELY soul mates ever to grace this earth. we met by accident (happy accident) one night in late october 1999. he offered me a drink; i yelled at him. he thought i was crazy, yet still got me a drink... 11 years later, i still yell at him; he still thinks i'm crazy, and he still provides me with alcohol... funny how things never change!
the things that i truly remember about that night: i had not wanted to go out. it had been a long day at work and then a halloween party with my step-mom and little sisters (aged 1 and 2 at the time). i had promised my friend i would go out with her work friends, and so, of course, i did... i remember such specific events like the first time i walked into his house (before he and i even met) and thinking that i was walking into a bad after-school special. nothing seemed right about the entire evening... when he offered to buy me a drink at the bar and i had mis-took him for someone else i had just met in his chaotic living room, i declined- while yelling, because i thought he had a girlfriend. when the confusion was clarified (and he thought i was crazy), i allowed him to buy me the drink... we barely spent a day apart from that day on- and 11 years later, i thank god every night that i decided to go with my friend that night. it's funny how life takes you on these crazy journeys that you never even know are about to begin until they've already begun... i love this journey- as bumpy and curvy and crazy as it may be (especially on a night when both of my children stayed up past 11:00p)!
i love to think about how different my husband and i were (and are still to this very day.) i love to think what a great diversity this will give to our children as they grow. but i love most to think back to that night, in october 1999, and remember P's face as i laid into him for trying to buy me a drink while his 'girlfriend' was on the other side of the bar... obviously, there was no other girlfriend; obviously our differences collided to form a great match, and obviously it was all meant to be. so that i could be here, sitting in my living room of five years, typing on the computer i got as a gift for birthing our first child (and honestly any and all additional children), remembering a night so long ago, but always so fresh in my heart.
im going with the abridged version, because, like my children, i'd like to crash soon, too!
P and i were (and are) the two most UNLIKELY soul mates ever to grace this earth. we met by accident (happy accident) one night in late october 1999. he offered me a drink; i yelled at him. he thought i was crazy, yet still got me a drink... 11 years later, i still yell at him; he still thinks i'm crazy, and he still provides me with alcohol... funny how things never change!
the things that i truly remember about that night: i had not wanted to go out. it had been a long day at work and then a halloween party with my step-mom and little sisters (aged 1 and 2 at the time). i had promised my friend i would go out with her work friends, and so, of course, i did... i remember such specific events like the first time i walked into his house (before he and i even met) and thinking that i was walking into a bad after-school special. nothing seemed right about the entire evening... when he offered to buy me a drink at the bar and i had mis-took him for someone else i had just met in his chaotic living room, i declined- while yelling, because i thought he had a girlfriend. when the confusion was clarified (and he thought i was crazy), i allowed him to buy me the drink... we barely spent a day apart from that day on- and 11 years later, i thank god every night that i decided to go with my friend that night. it's funny how life takes you on these crazy journeys that you never even know are about to begin until they've already begun... i love this journey- as bumpy and curvy and crazy as it may be (especially on a night when both of my children stayed up past 11:00p)!
i love to think about how different my husband and i were (and are still to this very day.) i love to think what a great diversity this will give to our children as they grow. but i love most to think back to that night, in october 1999, and remember P's face as i laid into him for trying to buy me a drink while his 'girlfriend' was on the other side of the bar... obviously, there was no other girlfriend; obviously our differences collided to form a great match, and obviously it was all meant to be. so that i could be here, sitting in my living room of five years, typing on the computer i got as a gift for birthing our first child (and honestly any and all additional children), remembering a night so long ago, but always so fresh in my heart.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
#701
i wouldn't even know where to begin tonight? i've had what seems like 700 ideas for 700 different posts for tonight. the first being that five years ago today we bought this house that we live in. i had every thought about what to write in terms of 'home sweet home'. then, that was quickly trumped by my 'just say no' post, which was detailing my big new year's resolution of not committing to anything. saying NO to everything that was offered and asked of me and everything in between... but, i fell off that wagon even before the ball dropped- point being tonight- me making pimento cheese and deviled ham spreads for 80 tea sandwiches for a Grandparent's Tea at Molly's school tomorrow... which brings us to potential post #3- Grandparents and my living so far away from them that i don't even have words for that one... at least not tonight.
post #4- my eldest daughter JUST fell asleep at 10:50p.m. after having a close nervous breakdown over... what?!? i have no idea. but she was mad at me, and she told me i was no longer her best friend. i told her she was mine and that i loved her. what else can i say? she said she loved me, too, but that she was still mad. i told her that was okay. it seemed like a very mature statement coming from a three year old. she, of course, constituted posts #5 through #698 and B, at her mere almost four months of age, and her absolute hysterical fits, was post #699 and 700... and here i am, i guess at #701 with nothing more than a random exhausted rant. i just set my alarm for 6:00a.m. (to bring all spreads to room temp and defrost the bread), so i should go to sleep. post #702 could definitely focus on my lack of sleep and how somehow, magically, at 11:00p.m. i perk up... but not tonight. tonight, i will crash. i hope. good night.
post #4- my eldest daughter JUST fell asleep at 10:50p.m. after having a close nervous breakdown over... what?!? i have no idea. but she was mad at me, and she told me i was no longer her best friend. i told her she was mine and that i loved her. what else can i say? she said she loved me, too, but that she was still mad. i told her that was okay. it seemed like a very mature statement coming from a three year old. she, of course, constituted posts #5 through #698 and B, at her mere almost four months of age, and her absolute hysterical fits, was post #699 and 700... and here i am, i guess at #701 with nothing more than a random exhausted rant. i just set my alarm for 6:00a.m. (to bring all spreads to room temp and defrost the bread), so i should go to sleep. post #702 could definitely focus on my lack of sleep and how somehow, magically, at 11:00p.m. i perk up... but not tonight. tonight, i will crash. i hope. good night.
memories of felipe...
several years ago (maybe five or six now?), my mom, my sister and I went to mexico. this was one of the best vacations i have ever had. we sat by the pool, or on the beach, sipping 'miami vice' drinks (a beautiful blend of strawberry daiquiri and pina colada in a layered fashion). we slept in and drank black coffee at breakfast (that's cafe sin leche- not cafe negro, which i tried ordering on my first night.) it was such a wonderful bonding time with two of my favorite people in the world. one of the most unexpected experiences that i still cherish, to this day, was my meeting and swimming with a dolphin. one day, on our way back to our room, we passed one of those "dolphin adventure" brochures on a wall of flyers. my sister instantly declared that we were doing this. i, not being so in love with ocean animals that are double my height and weigh enough to crush a smart car, instantly replied, "okay, whatever." i didn't really think we'd do it. until we were standing in line on a dock, waiting for our life vests and a man with a thick spanish accent was giving us safety instructions before we were able to meet our new friends. even at that point, i still had a small feeling that this was not really going to happen. but, it happened. i got into murky-green water and awaited my go-ahead signal. i repeated the instructions (or what i had understood) over and over in my head as i watched this massive creature approach me. i broke into a cold sweat that was masked by the hot water. and then, by no allowance on my part, i met flipper (or felipe?) and it was... amazing. not intimidating, not life-threatening, not even remotely scary. his eyes looked deep into mine and i swear, he smiled. we shook hands; we danced; and then he allowed me to ride his fin to the other side of the pool. i fell in love with my new friend, and i had a whole new respect for marine biology.
i thought of this tonight, as i nursed the baby back to sleep for the second time. i rocked her and stared up at the ceiling, where her projected ocean-life mobile spun in a bluish hue. the dolphin swam past with his big cartoony smile and i thought all the way back to my friend. my big non-intimidating, cuddly, wet friend. how absolutely terrified i was minutes before he looked into my eyes, and how instantly relieved i was just seconds after i knew him. this seems so much like so many things that happen in life. a big job interview instantly calmed by a soothing HR person; a new city that becomes as familiar as home after a few loops around the blocks; a new life that seems impossible until you stare into the eyes of your new baby and know that everything will always be okay. i never knew that a huge grey mammal could teach me all of this; nor did i ever think that 5+ years later i'd be writing about him and relating his calmness to the meeting of a new child- but he did, and i am. and it all came back to me from a simple projected image of a blue cartoon dolphin with a big smile on a vast ceiling. thanks, felipe, for all the memories.
i thought of this tonight, as i nursed the baby back to sleep for the second time. i rocked her and stared up at the ceiling, where her projected ocean-life mobile spun in a bluish hue. the dolphin swam past with his big cartoony smile and i thought all the way back to my friend. my big non-intimidating, cuddly, wet friend. how absolutely terrified i was minutes before he looked into my eyes, and how instantly relieved i was just seconds after i knew him. this seems so much like so many things that happen in life. a big job interview instantly calmed by a soothing HR person; a new city that becomes as familiar as home after a few loops around the blocks; a new life that seems impossible until you stare into the eyes of your new baby and know that everything will always be okay. i never knew that a huge grey mammal could teach me all of this; nor did i ever think that 5+ years later i'd be writing about him and relating his calmness to the meeting of a new child- but he did, and i am. and it all came back to me from a simple projected image of a blue cartoon dolphin with a big smile on a vast ceiling. thanks, felipe, for all the memories.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
every little thing... is gonna be all right.
About a month ago, i instituted a mandatory family rest period called, "Two o'clock Time Down." this name is ridiculous, but it was the first thing that came to my mind on the spur of the moment that i decided to institute it. my three year old doesn't forget a thing, so when i tried to change the name to "Family Rest Time" the next day, she corrected me and called it, "two o'clock time down." basically, at 2:00 (or whatever time i actually get us all wrangled into a sane place) we all go to our rooms to have a 45 minute rest (or whatever) alone. the 'or whatever' means that i am usually cleaning or catching up on my tivo and M is usually doing gymnastics off her bed, but we've got our own time. the need for our own time was solely based on the fact that before she was two, my toddler stopped napping- completely. so, for over a year, i've tried various things, but to no avail.
and, for the last month, i religiously put us into our "time downs" and we were on a pretty good roll. she went into her room without a fight and i, if nothing else, got 45 minutes without any, "mommy, pretend you're a...", "mommy, where's my...", "mommy, can i have some..." "mommy, watch this..." etc etc etc- you get the point.
we've had a crazy last couple days and our "time down" was the thing to suffer. i allowed M to 'rest' with me in my bed, or on the couch watching tv. i messed up. my kid needs some kind of constant, and this "time down" worked, until we went three days without it... today, we had one hell of a day. M and i were at odds from the moment she woke me up at 6:45. this doesn't sound like a shocking hour to most, but in my house, it may as well have been 3:00 a.m. we do NOT get out of bed before 8:00- ever! and, she not only awoke at 6:45, se actually wanted to do a craft at 6:45... ahhhh. so, we were at odds from that moment on. the climax was a fight that resulted in me taking her "DS" (a fisher price version for toddlers) away until thursday morning. she screamed and cried for what seemed like days. when it came time for "two o'clock time down", i'll admit, i was nervous. we hadn't had it in days, and she was already exhausted and pissed. but i plowed forth and called out the regular warning call (which is nothing more than yelling, "Two o'clock time down" to the house.) well, you would have thought i told her that her biddy baby was going to the good will. she looked at me in disbelief, then pure and utter anger. after about 7000 "no's", i somehow managed to get her to stay in her room...
she stayed, but not peacefully. she screamed at the top of her lungs, kicked the wall, kicked the door, threw toys at the door, screamed some more. then she just got sad. she cried big fat sloppy tears. i heard her blow her nose several times. she sang a song through the tears... she sobbed and sang, "don't worry. 'bout a thing. every little thing. is gonna be all right." <sniff sniff> over and over and over. my heart broke into one thousand pieces. i held tight though. we made it through the entire 45 minutes without anyone jumping out a window- i considered this a huge success.
so, tonight, as i was checking my e-mail, i received one of those frequent subscriptions that ask you "how do you know your child is okay/on track/the right height/weight/type, etc etc etc..." type propaganda that i signed up for on the first day i found out i was pregnant four years ago. i rarely read these. tonight's subject was, "7 signs your child loves you." i got mad. i hit delete. i got mad again. i have about 700 signs daily that my children love me. i don't need some specialist telling me any part of that. here's just one of the signs i received today (in the midst of our battling, none-the-less): when i knocked on her door to tell her that it was 2:45, and "time down" was over, and after screaming, kicking, yelling, sobbing, singing for 45 straight minutes through this much hated "time down", she opened her door wide to me, smiled and said, "oh ok. do you want to come into my room and play barbies with me?" it doesn't sound like much, but that was better than a dozen roses, a diamond ring and chocolates all combined. that was the truest sign of love, all wrapped up in a perfect little package. so, thank you, specialists for your concerns, but i know i'll manage to figure out my child's love, even on the most hellish of days.
and, for the last month, i religiously put us into our "time downs" and we were on a pretty good roll. she went into her room without a fight and i, if nothing else, got 45 minutes without any, "mommy, pretend you're a...", "mommy, where's my...", "mommy, can i have some..." "mommy, watch this..." etc etc etc- you get the point.
we've had a crazy last couple days and our "time down" was the thing to suffer. i allowed M to 'rest' with me in my bed, or on the couch watching tv. i messed up. my kid needs some kind of constant, and this "time down" worked, until we went three days without it... today, we had one hell of a day. M and i were at odds from the moment she woke me up at 6:45. this doesn't sound like a shocking hour to most, but in my house, it may as well have been 3:00 a.m. we do NOT get out of bed before 8:00- ever! and, she not only awoke at 6:45, se actually wanted to do a craft at 6:45... ahhhh. so, we were at odds from that moment on. the climax was a fight that resulted in me taking her "DS" (a fisher price version for toddlers) away until thursday morning. she screamed and cried for what seemed like days. when it came time for "two o'clock time down", i'll admit, i was nervous. we hadn't had it in days, and she was already exhausted and pissed. but i plowed forth and called out the regular warning call (which is nothing more than yelling, "Two o'clock time down" to the house.) well, you would have thought i told her that her biddy baby was going to the good will. she looked at me in disbelief, then pure and utter anger. after about 7000 "no's", i somehow managed to get her to stay in her room...
she stayed, but not peacefully. she screamed at the top of her lungs, kicked the wall, kicked the door, threw toys at the door, screamed some more. then she just got sad. she cried big fat sloppy tears. i heard her blow her nose several times. she sang a song through the tears... she sobbed and sang, "don't worry. 'bout a thing. every little thing. is gonna be all right." <sniff sniff> over and over and over. my heart broke into one thousand pieces. i held tight though. we made it through the entire 45 minutes without anyone jumping out a window- i considered this a huge success.
so, tonight, as i was checking my e-mail, i received one of those frequent subscriptions that ask you "how do you know your child is okay/on track/the right height/weight/type, etc etc etc..." type propaganda that i signed up for on the first day i found out i was pregnant four years ago. i rarely read these. tonight's subject was, "7 signs your child loves you." i got mad. i hit delete. i got mad again. i have about 700 signs daily that my children love me. i don't need some specialist telling me any part of that. here's just one of the signs i received today (in the midst of our battling, none-the-less): when i knocked on her door to tell her that it was 2:45, and "time down" was over, and after screaming, kicking, yelling, sobbing, singing for 45 straight minutes through this much hated "time down", she opened her door wide to me, smiled and said, "oh ok. do you want to come into my room and play barbies with me?" it doesn't sound like much, but that was better than a dozen roses, a diamond ring and chocolates all combined. that was the truest sign of love, all wrapped up in a perfect little package. so, thank you, specialists for your concerns, but i know i'll manage to figure out my child's love, even on the most hellish of days.
Monday, February 7, 2011
need to get organized!!!
i consider myself a non-neat, unorganized person. for example, i am currently still tossing my clothes in a pile on top of my suitcase (which is half full) from a trip i took a month ago... Add this to a toddler who won't let me get rid of anything and a baby who wants to be held all the time... conclusion- it is a difficult task for me to keep and therefore to live in a clean and tidy home.
and yet, i try. and try. and try. for at least the first few months of every year. and here we are, still in feb; so here i am, still obsessing over what my house could look like if only i could clean and organize it.
here is a small snapshot of what i am dealing with: currently on my nightstand are all the standards: a clock, a baby monitor, a lamp and a charging cell phone; the non-standards: a pair of earrings, a hair clip, a head band (make that two headbands), a small bottle of mylecon (for baby), a small bottle of clove oil (for baby), a pacifier (that baby doesn't take), a rattle, a pair of toddler socks (yes, socks), a bottle of baby magic baby lotion that i may have used the first week after the baby was born, a cowboy hat (toddler size), a hot pink teddy bear, a box of tissues, a jewelry box with a broken drawer (just in case i have time to fix the drawer), four envelopes of christmas cards that were returned to me (because i really am going to re-address them and send them back out), a picture of M with santa (make that a pile of the same picture of M with santa- that i was going to mail out to the family, but haven't gotten around to yet), a receipt for joining the Y (which i did over a month ago), a wii remote, a deck of cards, a dvd remote (for a dvd player that is not even hooked up to the tv)... i could actually go on, but now i'm getting slightly embarrassed. this is ridiculous. maybe this is what i've needed to do to get my act together... a typed out visual, since the actual sight of all this shit on my table doesn't seem to bother me...
okay, i've just become inspired to organize (and i just saw a matchbox car hiding behind a can of seltzer. my nightstand is a standard sized nightstand. this is sick.)
i'm going to bed, so i can become rejuvenated and ready to clean tomorrow! wish me luck- the nightstand alone could take me till thursday!
and yet, i try. and try. and try. for at least the first few months of every year. and here we are, still in feb; so here i am, still obsessing over what my house could look like if only i could clean and organize it.
here is a small snapshot of what i am dealing with: currently on my nightstand are all the standards: a clock, a baby monitor, a lamp and a charging cell phone; the non-standards: a pair of earrings, a hair clip, a head band (make that two headbands), a small bottle of mylecon (for baby), a small bottle of clove oil (for baby), a pacifier (that baby doesn't take), a rattle, a pair of toddler socks (yes, socks), a bottle of baby magic baby lotion that i may have used the first week after the baby was born, a cowboy hat (toddler size), a hot pink teddy bear, a box of tissues, a jewelry box with a broken drawer (just in case i have time to fix the drawer), four envelopes of christmas cards that were returned to me (because i really am going to re-address them and send them back out), a picture of M with santa (make that a pile of the same picture of M with santa- that i was going to mail out to the family, but haven't gotten around to yet), a receipt for joining the Y (which i did over a month ago), a wii remote, a deck of cards, a dvd remote (for a dvd player that is not even hooked up to the tv)... i could actually go on, but now i'm getting slightly embarrassed. this is ridiculous. maybe this is what i've needed to do to get my act together... a typed out visual, since the actual sight of all this shit on my table doesn't seem to bother me...
okay, i've just become inspired to organize (and i just saw a matchbox car hiding behind a can of seltzer. my nightstand is a standard sized nightstand. this is sick.)
i'm going to bed, so i can become rejuvenated and ready to clean tomorrow! wish me luck- the nightstand alone could take me till thursday!
Sunday, February 6, 2011
the key to clean...
thanks to a very good friend of mine, i had three unexpected toddler-free hours today! The baby slept during 2 1/2 of those three hours! so, what did i do with my wide open sunday, you ask?!?
i cleaned my kitchen floor!
this doesn't sound nearly as exciting as it was! this is one of those things that, weird as it may seem, totally soothes and relaxes me! and today, i was able to do something i haven't been able to do in months (and months and months...) i actually got down on my hands and knees and SCRUBBED the grout between each tile. and, not only did i successfully do this act in my 'spare' time, i actually succeeded in finding the white that lived under all of the dirt and grime that has been collecting there for oh so long. don't get me wrong, i do my kitchen floors a lot- but i do them quickly, with a swiffer wet jet or something easy- enough to get the tiles de-speckeled. but to actually get the grout CLEAN- this was an accomplishment on so many levels. because today i used two new products (cleaning products may have to have their own post, because i really could talk about them for hours!)
But, today i used a grout cleaning tool and oxy clean! who knew?!? with little effort (although i ended up shredding the tool by the end), i actually got the grout lines white... this is amazing, because i have tried every product under the sun (pine sol, tylex, bleach, specialty grout cleaners, etc.) and nothing has ever worked like this- i swear!
okay, in thinking about what i've just written, i realize that this is probably only exciting to me, so i'll stop going on and on about my adventures in cleaning discoveries. however, if anyone of you is looking for an amazing way to clean - use oxy clean! i use it in my laundry, in the tub, sink, toilet, and now floors! YAY! "billy always says, it's not clean until it's oxy clean!"
okay, and now i am really done. and someday i will actually get a life and find something a little more exciting to do with three spare hours on a sunday afternoon! until then, i'm going to bed a happy and satisfied cleaner!!!
i cleaned my kitchen floor!
this doesn't sound nearly as exciting as it was! this is one of those things that, weird as it may seem, totally soothes and relaxes me! and today, i was able to do something i haven't been able to do in months (and months and months...) i actually got down on my hands and knees and SCRUBBED the grout between each tile. and, not only did i successfully do this act in my 'spare' time, i actually succeeded in finding the white that lived under all of the dirt and grime that has been collecting there for oh so long. don't get me wrong, i do my kitchen floors a lot- but i do them quickly, with a swiffer wet jet or something easy- enough to get the tiles de-speckeled. but to actually get the grout CLEAN- this was an accomplishment on so many levels. because today i used two new products (cleaning products may have to have their own post, because i really could talk about them for hours!)
But, today i used a grout cleaning tool and oxy clean! who knew?!? with little effort (although i ended up shredding the tool by the end), i actually got the grout lines white... this is amazing, because i have tried every product under the sun (pine sol, tylex, bleach, specialty grout cleaners, etc.) and nothing has ever worked like this- i swear!
okay, in thinking about what i've just written, i realize that this is probably only exciting to me, so i'll stop going on and on about my adventures in cleaning discoveries. however, if anyone of you is looking for an amazing way to clean - use oxy clean! i use it in my laundry, in the tub, sink, toilet, and now floors! YAY! "billy always says, it's not clean until it's oxy clean!"
okay, and now i am really done. and someday i will actually get a life and find something a little more exciting to do with three spare hours on a sunday afternoon! until then, i'm going to bed a happy and satisfied cleaner!!!
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Baby Wah Wah!
Since about the second, maybe third, day of my daughter's existence, she's been affectionately dubbed, "Baby Wah Wah." Affectionately, because we love her. Dubbed it because she cries a lot... A LOT A LOT. i mean, a whole lot. there have been a very few times in the last 3 1/2 months where we have joyously called her, "Baby happy happy"! but they are very few and very unreliable circumstances.
One night, as i was happily sipping wine with my girlfriends out at a very adult, very nice restaurant, i casually glanced down at my phone to find three missed calls and a text. all from my husband. i went straight to the last call, where he apologetically asked me to please come home because wah wah had been crying for 119 straight minutes. it was true- no exaggeration necessary.
tonight, when i was on about my 73rd straight minute of enduring her crying, i thought back to all the books i had read before having children (okay, fine, i read one book... once... fine, it was a chapter here or there... okay, fine, i didn't read any, but i knew what they would say...) they would say that it's normal for babies to cry. babies cry to alert us to their needs. their needs can be anything from hunger to wet/dirty diaper to teething to upset belly, etc., etc., etc. So, tonight after i fed the hungry cry and changed the dirty cry and oiled the gums of the teething cry and gave mylecon drops to the upset belly cry, i sat and wanted to cry my own i-give-up cry. but at about 82 minutes in, she finally conked out. And i was finally able to eat te sleeve of oreos i had been dreaming of the entire time she cried.
she is a fussy baby. she suits her "baby wah wah" name well. i don't know when or how this phase is going to end. don't get me wrong, i do not want my children to grow up too quickly- or at all, really. But after these three long and loud months of crying, i will pay money for this time to come to an end. Come on, Baby Wah Wah. Please turn into Baby Happy Happy soon! Please! Please! Please!
One night, as i was happily sipping wine with my girlfriends out at a very adult, very nice restaurant, i casually glanced down at my phone to find three missed calls and a text. all from my husband. i went straight to the last call, where he apologetically asked me to please come home because wah wah had been crying for 119 straight minutes. it was true- no exaggeration necessary.
tonight, when i was on about my 73rd straight minute of enduring her crying, i thought back to all the books i had read before having children (okay, fine, i read one book... once... fine, it was a chapter here or there... okay, fine, i didn't read any, but i knew what they would say...) they would say that it's normal for babies to cry. babies cry to alert us to their needs. their needs can be anything from hunger to wet/dirty diaper to teething to upset belly, etc., etc., etc. So, tonight after i fed the hungry cry and changed the dirty cry and oiled the gums of the teething cry and gave mylecon drops to the upset belly cry, i sat and wanted to cry my own i-give-up cry. but at about 82 minutes in, she finally conked out. And i was finally able to eat te sleeve of oreos i had been dreaming of the entire time she cried.
she is a fussy baby. she suits her "baby wah wah" name well. i don't know when or how this phase is going to end. don't get me wrong, i do not want my children to grow up too quickly- or at all, really. But after these three long and loud months of crying, i will pay money for this time to come to an end. Come on, Baby Wah Wah. Please turn into Baby Happy Happy soon! Please! Please! Please!
Friday, February 4, 2011
Date? Time? Me? What?!?
I just went to type in the date as Feb 3. it's the 4th. This isn't that big a deal, and to the rest of the world would seem just a case of a missed number. But, this is, for me, such a common occurrence, that, i may as well have typed june 31 (which, i do now realize is not even a date.)
I am perpetually lost in time. A perfect example of this is that i intended my blog project to start at the new year. i started last week and was extremely proud of myself, because to me, the end of january is as much the beginning of the new year as jan 1. i would have still been proud had it been march, because, really- that's still at the front of the calendar. but, my time-loss goes deeper than that and happens almost daily. i will look at the clock and it will say something like 1:30 (in the afternoon). i will do what feels like enough to fill about 20 minutes worth of time, yet when i glance back at the same clock, it will be 4:15 (still afternoon, thankfully.) I am late to everything for this exact reason. well, that and because it somehow takes me 15 minutes to get from my front door to my car. every time i leave on time by the clock in my living room, i get into the car and it's 15 minutes later! and i've synchronized!?! i just don't understand.
some people (like my husband) have this insanely accurate sense of time. my daughter, who thinks that it is always 28 (that's her time, temperature, and weight if you ask her), is still more accurate than i am.
i don't think this is something that can be resolved. i am just time-blind, if you will, and they do not make corrective time lenses the last time i checked. i will just have to accept (and so will all of those around me) that i will most likely be late; i will most likely have no idea what the date is (or day of the week, for that matter); nor will i probably ever grasp the mental feel of what a "month" is, because they seem to slip by like seconds, too.
and with all of this having just been written, i just glanced down at the time on my draft and thought to myself that i will need to fix my settings, because the time is wrong. but, no. it's not wrong. it really is 10:15, not 9:30 like i was expecting to see... another 45 minutes- gone!
I am perpetually lost in time. A perfect example of this is that i intended my blog project to start at the new year. i started last week and was extremely proud of myself, because to me, the end of january is as much the beginning of the new year as jan 1. i would have still been proud had it been march, because, really- that's still at the front of the calendar. but, my time-loss goes deeper than that and happens almost daily. i will look at the clock and it will say something like 1:30 (in the afternoon). i will do what feels like enough to fill about 20 minutes worth of time, yet when i glance back at the same clock, it will be 4:15 (still afternoon, thankfully.) I am late to everything for this exact reason. well, that and because it somehow takes me 15 minutes to get from my front door to my car. every time i leave on time by the clock in my living room, i get into the car and it's 15 minutes later! and i've synchronized!?! i just don't understand.
some people (like my husband) have this insanely accurate sense of time. my daughter, who thinks that it is always 28 (that's her time, temperature, and weight if you ask her), is still more accurate than i am.
i don't think this is something that can be resolved. i am just time-blind, if you will, and they do not make corrective time lenses the last time i checked. i will just have to accept (and so will all of those around me) that i will most likely be late; i will most likely have no idea what the date is (or day of the week, for that matter); nor will i probably ever grasp the mental feel of what a "month" is, because they seem to slip by like seconds, too.
and with all of this having just been written, i just glanced down at the time on my draft and thought to myself that i will need to fix my settings, because the time is wrong. but, no. it's not wrong. it really is 10:15, not 9:30 like i was expecting to see... another 45 minutes- gone!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
What A Day...
Today was a day that only parents who really love their children can bear. And even they may have a hard time.
The baby screamed for roughly eight straight hours. I either had to hold her or nurse her for those eight long hours. During these eight excruciating hours, my three year old (who is extremely creative, mind you) came up with a game. This game was called "baby." The game "baby" had a very simple concept. She acted like a baby. A screaming, crying baby who needed a pacifier (which neither of my children took as babies, or take now...) so, while walking the hall, or nursing the real baby who was really screaming, i had to give a pacifier to a three-year-old "baby" who then spit it out and "cried" harder.
All of this really outweighs the rest of the crappiness of my day, which simply put was me feeling sick with the very same head and chest cold that is affecting 3/4 of my household (my husband came home with even more antibiotics- and a sinus infection.) The three year old being exempt (thankfully, because i don't want her to be sick. not thankfully, because sickness may just slow her down a bit... maybe.) Today, my head came close to a vesuvius eruptive state. my body felt heavier than the volcanic rock that surrounded the lava that was my sinuses. all of this while the baby/"ies" SCREAMED.
everyone is finally asleep. my eyes are shutting around me. i wrote out my post. i am going to bed.
The baby screamed for roughly eight straight hours. I either had to hold her or nurse her for those eight long hours. During these eight excruciating hours, my three year old (who is extremely creative, mind you) came up with a game. This game was called "baby." The game "baby" had a very simple concept. She acted like a baby. A screaming, crying baby who needed a pacifier (which neither of my children took as babies, or take now...) so, while walking the hall, or nursing the real baby who was really screaming, i had to give a pacifier to a three-year-old "baby" who then spit it out and "cried" harder.
All of this really outweighs the rest of the crappiness of my day, which simply put was me feeling sick with the very same head and chest cold that is affecting 3/4 of my household (my husband came home with even more antibiotics- and a sinus infection.) The three year old being exempt (thankfully, because i don't want her to be sick. not thankfully, because sickness may just slow her down a bit... maybe.) Today, my head came close to a vesuvius eruptive state. my body felt heavier than the volcanic rock that surrounded the lava that was my sinuses. all of this while the baby/"ies" SCREAMED.
everyone is finally asleep. my eyes are shutting around me. i wrote out my post. i am going to bed.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Ah-Choo!
I have a cat. I've had this cat for 10 years. I've had cats before him, and dogs, and I've even had a few mice... but i've never had any allergies. Not to animals, or plants, or dust particles. Especially not to my own pets! However, about two years ago, one of my eyeballs almost blew up. At the time, I could not (nor could the doctor who treated me at the ER) figure out why. Then, after a few more eye instances, and some sneezing attacks- all revolving around one 23-pound-lovie-cat, I realized the truth- I had become allergic to my cat. The cat that slept on my chest, sat on my lap, followed my feet and blessed my sneezes (i swear! every time he made me sneeze, he followed it up with a hearty "godblessmew!"
For the last two years, I have dealt with the annoying eye issues and sneezes that have taken its toll on my relationship with my feline friend.
Tonight, though, as i was putting the baby to sleep for the third time, i rocked her in the cushy easy chair rocker, held her close, and sang softly into her sweet little ear. She softened her grip on my finger and began to float away to her tiny dream-state. And then I caught a whiff of dander somewhere in my nose, and try as i did to stop it, I sneezed. I sneezed loud, and hard, and many, many times in a row. Then she awoke; and then she screamed. And I cursed the cat, and the chair for being his safe haven during the days, and dander, and everything i could think of. I swore at the top of the lungs in my head that he would go straight to the SPCA tomorrow. For about a three minute period, i used words (internally, of course) that sailors would blush at- until I finally stopped sneezing, and the baby finally stopped screaming. And we somehow returned to a serene state where she could drift away once more.
And tomorrow, as i vacuum the chair to remove all traces of cat from it, I will think back on my swear to visit the SPCA (not the first swear of this kind). And as much as i'd love to not have my eyes blow up, or my baby be awakened by my obnoxious sneezing, or countless other annoyances that he brings to my life, i've had him for 10 years. he is a part of this family, and i will once again NOT visit the SPCA. he will be here another day, and night, and day again... for as long as his nine lives allow, dander and all.
For the last two years, I have dealt with the annoying eye issues and sneezes that have taken its toll on my relationship with my feline friend.
Tonight, though, as i was putting the baby to sleep for the third time, i rocked her in the cushy easy chair rocker, held her close, and sang softly into her sweet little ear. She softened her grip on my finger and began to float away to her tiny dream-state. And then I caught a whiff of dander somewhere in my nose, and try as i did to stop it, I sneezed. I sneezed loud, and hard, and many, many times in a row. Then she awoke; and then she screamed. And I cursed the cat, and the chair for being his safe haven during the days, and dander, and everything i could think of. I swore at the top of the lungs in my head that he would go straight to the SPCA tomorrow. For about a three minute period, i used words (internally, of course) that sailors would blush at- until I finally stopped sneezing, and the baby finally stopped screaming. And we somehow returned to a serene state where she could drift away once more.
And tomorrow, as i vacuum the chair to remove all traces of cat from it, I will think back on my swear to visit the SPCA (not the first swear of this kind). And as much as i'd love to not have my eyes blow up, or my baby be awakened by my obnoxious sneezing, or countless other annoyances that he brings to my life, i've had him for 10 years. he is a part of this family, and i will once again NOT visit the SPCA. he will be here another day, and night, and day again... for as long as his nine lives allow, dander and all.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Groundhog Day...
Tomorrow is Groundhog Day (i looked it up- and as much as i want to say "groundhog's day", it is singular.)
Today, my babies were diagnosed with some pretty heavy illnesses and infections. This is hard because, well, the obvious reason- my children are sick. But also, for the less obvious reason- tomorrow is groundhog day. this has been the biggest thing that my three year old has been looking forward to for at least a week (which is a really long lead-time for a three year old.) There's a big festival that we've been planning to attend, and we even made t-shirts for it (see below.) And now, tomorrow morning, on Groundhog Day, i have to alert my three year old that she is not going to school (where they have been talking about and learning about groundhogs and shadows), and that, even worse, we are not going to the festival. This is so sad. This is when being the responsible adult sucks. I am not the type of parent who lets a little sickness stand in the way of a good time. But, i have a newborn. I have to think along the lines of doing the right thing to keep her healthy and safe. I have to say, "No" to the groundhogs in order to say, "Yes" to our health. Welcome to adulthood.
Today, my babies were diagnosed with some pretty heavy illnesses and infections. This is hard because, well, the obvious reason- my children are sick. But also, for the less obvious reason- tomorrow is groundhog day. this has been the biggest thing that my three year old has been looking forward to for at least a week (which is a really long lead-time for a three year old.) There's a big festival that we've been planning to attend, and we even made t-shirts for it (see below.) And now, tomorrow morning, on Groundhog Day, i have to alert my three year old that she is not going to school (where they have been talking about and learning about groundhogs and shadows), and that, even worse, we are not going to the festival. This is so sad. This is when being the responsible adult sucks. I am not the type of parent who lets a little sickness stand in the way of a good time. But, i have a newborn. I have to think along the lines of doing the right thing to keep her healthy and safe. I have to say, "No" to the groundhogs in order to say, "Yes" to our health. Welcome to adulthood.
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