lots and lots of nonsense

happy halloween!

2011-11-01T07:54:00.001-04:00

We're chugging along over here, trying valiantly to enjoy my most favoritest holiday ever while struggling with nausea. Things are improving, though, since I now have stretches of the day where I'm not begging for death. Baby steps, right?

I temper my guilt about not doing enough for the kids to celebrate by telling myself they (a) won't remember and (b) it's for a good cause and (c) they've already attended 3 other Halloween parties in the last two weeks. Good enough, right?

I had a 12 week ultrasound and there was a beautiful little baby in there, sucking on his or her hands and kicking up a storm in the 99th percentile. 99!!! Let's hope he or she weighs 9 pounds because that is how much weight I have gained, and no, I don't want to talk about it.

Besides that, things are great. My kids are being incredibly helpful and sweet, Josh is going to work late and leaving early to be here, and at 13.5 weeks, I'm counting the days and hoping we're almost done with the never-ending nausea.

At least I have an excuse to sit around all day and watch scary movies! Now if only this baby didn't make me projectile vomit every time I consume sugar and life would be perfect. Who ever heard of a pregnancy without sugar? What about all the peanut butter cups I stole from the kids?!

Hoping your Halloween is filled with lots of treats and no tricks!

thank you

2011-10-03T23:42:00.001-04:00

Thank you so much for the well-wishes, I'm touched that you are still checking in, despite the sporadic blogging.

I wish I could say things are better, but they are most definitely not. In fact, these last few days have been the worst I've seen in any pregnancy. Things are just bad. Terrible. Horrid. I really, really, really feel like I can't throw up anymore, I can't feel sick anymore. I need a break.

Even in the nauseous gloom, though, there are moments of great joy. I wanted to keep the pregnancy a secret from the kids until much later because I hate the idea of them feeling anxious about it, but Gabe came up to me yesterday and shoved on my stomach. When I asked him why, he said he was checking to see if there was a baby in there. Josh and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows and knew we had to tell him. The response was fairly anticlimactic, but they've been full of questions today. How will it come out? What if it gets stuck? Where will it sleep? What will we name it? Does it have feet? Can I touch it?

I'm trying to downplay the whole thing, really, because May 4th is an eternity away. Even for me. I can't imagine what it must be to a 2 and 4 year old. One day at a time, I guess. And I'll keep wishing for a vomit free day. Sigh.

third time's a charm

2011-09-18T22:08:00.001-04:00

In a culmination to what may be one of our best summers yet... I'm pregnant.

7 and a half weeks pregnant, to be exact. And horrifically unbelievably shockingly sick, vomiting or swallowing back vomit constantly sick.

I'm over the moon ecstatic. I mean, really thrilled, so happy, crazy excited. I've always hoped for another baby, but Josh has always said he's satisfied with 2 children, so it was never a sure thing. When we finally agreed to try for a third, my stomach was in knots just thinking it wouldn't happen. And of course, Gabe and Josie would have been more than enough for me, of course I'm ridiculously blessed, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and mine wanted another baby.

So I'm very, very, very happy. Feeling very, very, very lucky.

The all-the-freaking-day sickness is hard. The hardest thing I've ever had to deal with, though, I'll admit that. I have spent a lot of nights crying, because nights are the worst. I have had a running streak over the last few days where I'll start throwing up and can't stop. Everything tastes disgustingly metallic and every second of the day the nausea is almost crippling. I'm desperate to find a solution that doesn't involve medication so I'm trying crazy homeopathic remedies, low-carb or high-carb or high protein or low-dairy or liquid or anything under the sun diets, lying down or never lying down, yoga, accupressure, tapping, you name it, I've tried it. I'm dehydrated but anything liquid makes me gag, so unless I find a solution asap, my doctor has called in a prescription for anti-nausea medication and I'll have to start taking it. Suggestions or advice will be gratefully received.

I had an ultrasound last week and there is one sweet little alien-looking baby in there, with a heart beat of 134 beats a minute. I'm keeping all extremities crossed that he or she keeps growing and is healthy. Oh, and calm. I think after two lunatic children, I'm due for a sweet quiet third, right?

it allll evens out in the end, I think

2011-08-17T19:39:00.001-04:00

My diet today consisted of (in chronological order):

One slice of leftover pizza for breakfast
One iced coffee
Two cookies
Another coffee
Two hot dogs from Dairy Queen
Bag of chips
One nutter butter Blizzard
One medium Pepsi
5 baby carrots
4 grape tomatoes
A handful of bell pepper slices
Water

Those last few vegetables TOTALLY make up for the rest, right? RIGHT?!

the beef, my lord, the beef

2011-07-25T00:21:00.001-04:00

We're in our final few days of the crazy spanish immersion trip, flying home on Wednesday night, arriving Thursday at 11:30am. This means that on my 33rd birthday, I'll be spending more than half of it flying around the world with two children under 5. Hold me.

I'm conflicted about returning. On the one hand, I walk down the wide avenues and look up at blue skies and eat another delicious meal and speak my favorite language with my favorite accent. I have multiple emotional moments a day of seeing my children exploring and learning in this place that was so vital to my childhood, so crucial a part of who I am today. ON THE OTHER HAND, I am having daily headaches that I strongly suspect are due to the tension of living in a small apartment with neighbors in close proximity. The kids won't stop running and stomping and screaming. The downstairs neighbor is an opera singing tutor during the day, and then blasts rock or jazz at midnight. The upstairs neighbor woke me up at 4:30am last night with what I can only assume was very loud sex for 45 FREAKING MINUTES. Who has sex at 4:30 in the morning? I've become adept at managing 2 kids, one stroller, bags and jackets on broken sidewalks, buses, subways and taxis. Adept, sure, but still exhausted. And last, but not least, since 3 days after we landed, the children have been a revolving door of germs and illnesses. The kids and I have all had fevers and coughs and sleepless nights. I'm ready to go back to North America where flu season is not in full swing.

So, as I said, conflicted.

I'm excited to see Josh, and ready to enjoy the rest of the summer and my last month before they both go to school! Did I tell you Josie is starting preschool? I'm devastated, but I am 1000% sure she is ready and will love it.

Thoughts on summer activities for the kids and I? I'm thinking weekly themes like oceans and animals and then trips to the aquarium and zoo and books from the library. Ideas? I need to fill 5-6 weeks of summer, and if it goes well, perhaps we'll continue in the fall!

apartment living

2011-07-21T07:56:00.001-04:00

Those of you who live or have lived in an apartment with children, I salute you. And I also ask, how the fuck do you do it?

happy days

2011-07-18T23:01:00.001-04:00

I'm so happy to hear that you all haven't ditched me, despite the long absence! Thrilled to be back.

We're still in Buenos Aires and things are still going swimmingly over here. Weather has been lovely, the kids are loving school, and miracles of miracles, they have actually started to speak some Spanish! Halting, broken, incorrect Spanglishy Spanish, but whatever, I'll take what I can get. Poor Josie has been putting together particularly mixed up sentences like, "I need to limpiar the mesa," or "donde is my conejo?" Baby steps, you know? Gabe has been learning by astonishing leaps and bounds. A few days ago, he was having a hard time of things. He was tired, and cranky, and not saying a word in Spanish, and asking to go home. And then all of a sudden, he picked up a coloring book and said, "quiero colorear esto," and I almost fell over. Since then, he's thrown out several phrases or short sentences throughout the day, and he is clearly understanding 99% of what people are saying to him. I'm amazed, honestly.

Amazed, and feeling a tremendous pressure to lock in the Spanish in the 10 days we have left. I know that sounds crazy, but there it is. I'm so nervous about slacking off when we get back and everyone is speaking English and the kids go to school. Maybe you all could contribute to my accountability? Yell at me periodically. I would appreciate that.

Besides that, we just finished up an amazing visit with Josh for 16 glorious days. 16 days! Of no work, and no work calls, no housework, no laundry (because there isn't a washing machine in the house), and the kids in preschool all morning. We kept pinching each other to see if we were dreaming as we walked the busy avenues and stopped for coffee and ate treats and took the kids to parks and enjoyed the tremendous weather (71 degrees in winter!). It was one of the best vacations we've taken in a long time, certainly since before we had the kids.

Now I'm feeling sad that Josh is gone, and not just because he washed the dishes every day, although there's that too. We've been planning this for so long and now we're nearing the end and it feels surreal. I can admit, though, I'll be happy to see my home and all my things and back to separate bedrooms for the kids!

If I'm being perfectly honest, there is one difficult part of this trip, and that's the sleeping. The kids are sleeping, but I am decidedly NOT. We're in a rental, obviously, and I can't shake this idea that tons of people could have copies of the key. Tie that in with a busy apartment building and echoing hallways and doors opening and closing in the elevator all night long, and it makes for sleepless nights for me. Plus, the kids have lucked into a series of colds and fevers, so we're up a lot at night. Sigh. I'll have time to sleep when I'm dead, right? Or maybe when they leave for college.

Other than that, we're good. I'm eating my body weight in dulce de leche per day and loving city life. Quite a change from our sleepy suburb. I can confirm that this is a great place to visit with kids. Very kid friendly!

I know.

2011-07-02T23:03:00.001-04:00

No, really.

I know.

I don't even have a good excuse beyond the fact that sometimes I think this might be our theme song. You know, minus the "jack in a local bar" and "the unemployment line". Geez, that sounds melodramatic when it shouldn't. Life- just regular old 2 kids 4 and under, husband who works all the time, struggling to be a good mother and partner- has been challenging. Sometimes I look at Josh, sitting at the kitchen table at 1am, still working, for the 4th night this week and I think, man, these times are hard.

But I did what the song mentions, sat up with Josh, made plans with him, talked to him, LOOKED at him, and actually reconnected. Took a step back from other demands and made my family my top priority. It always was, but I'd let other nonsense, irritations, stupidity get in the way. And it has been good. Really good.

Not to mention a stretch of no accidents since March, although let's not say it too loudly and knock on wood while we're at it. We're great.

If you are lucky enough not to see my twitter ravings, the insane plan I mentioned a few months ago is in effect. I brought the kids to Argentina, Buenos Aires to be exact, for 5 glorious weeks. We rented an apartment, put the kids in school, and Josh is taking his first non-working vacation in 4 years. Not the whole time, of course, and I'll keep his exact dates private in favor of the whole safety issue, but a decent chunk of days. And so far, so good. The kids are thriving and venturing out of their Spanish resistant holes and making friends and trying new vocabulary, and I'm reveling in my non-cooking, non-cleaning, non-laundry, children in school every morning days.

And yes, it is every bit as fabulous as you'd imagine. The last few days, though, I keep thinking about blogging this, or that, and thinking about how much I will regret not writing about this. So here I am. Hoping some of you are still around. Hoping you're all well.

what happened

2011-03-02T23:37:00.004-05:00

First, this happened, courtesy of Josie and her best buddy.

21 missing keys, in approximately 3 minutes of unsupervised time.

Oh, and they snapped several individual keys IN HALF. I'm so proud of her fine motor skills, obviously.

Then, of course, there were more stitches, courtesy of Josie banging her chin against the edge of her crib.

The irony is that I needed to take a shower so I placed her in her crib to keep her safe. HA HA HA HA HA. I came back wrapped in a towel to find blood EVERYWHERE. Everywhere. And she wasn't even crying! She just tilted her head up and showed me her chin and said, "I have a boo boo, I need an Elmo bandaid mom." Another trip to the ER, another set of stitches.

Then, I found, um, let's call it a mysterious animal, dead in the basement. I lifted up a paint tarp, and there he was. Maybe a squirrel? Maybe a possum? I don't know, but he was shriveled and hairy and I may have touched him with my hand, and honestly, let's stop talking about it because I'm still traumatized.

So I did what I always do when one of the kids has an accident. Any guesses? Yep, yep, I started a large scale home renovation project, by myself, with no advance planning or warning to my husband. Pictures and details to come.

And then I kind of just fell apart. Not a lot, just a bit. Josh is working around the clock and the injuries always set me off, and everything felt overwhelming for a few weeks. But I'm starting to feel better- more normal.

The computer is still broken, which is the major impediment to typing anything, but thankfully I joined the 21st century and got an iPhone and hopefully this will help until we figure out what to do with the computer. And Josie, we need a plan for what to do with Josie. Besides the bubble wrap because that isn't working.

now we just need to find time to breathe

2011-01-20T16:24:00.006-05:00

Day 3:

We ate breakfast at the flat (Nutella on toast, baby!) and headed into London via a double decker bus to catch the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. By the way, I've never tasted bread as delicious as the straight off the shelf bread from the Fulham grocery store. Not even in Paris! This stuff was nutty and delicious and supposedly from the countryside outside of London. Yum.

Buckingham Palace was crowded, but exciting, and felt very London-y to be standing in the crowds watching the British guards with their tall hats and different colored plumes playing Christmas carols. The Queen wasn't in London, since she was celebrating Christmas in Sandringham (see how I learned so much about British royalty?), but I guess there is always a changing of the guard and the crowds come no matter what. It was actually surreal to go see The King's Speech last weekend and see scenes from Buckingham Palace and know that I was JUST THERE! The miracles of modern travel, huh?

Anyway, we left as the crowds thinned and walked up to Hyde Park again, and bought a Big Bus Tour to give us an overview of London, because seriously, I've been a lot of places and never felt quite as overwhelmed as I felt in London. This place is GINORMOUS. Huge. Monstrously large. The bus tour was fabulous because it made London seem manageable and helped us to understand how the whole city fit together and how where we were standing related to the rest of the city. The best part was that as part of a winter promotion, we got two days of touring instead of one day, AND we were allowed to take a free boat cruise and free walking tours from a local tour agency. It was great!

The only problem (and don't laugh) is that we could barely understand the tour guide! Of course, he was speaking English, but with the thickest accent ever! We sat on the bus as it weaved it's way around London and got off when it neared the theatre district and went over to the TKTS booth to purchase tickets to a show. After several minutes of indecision, we finally settled on Chicago for that night. I was desperate to see Andrew Lloyd Webber's newest show, but eventually decided I thought Josh would enjoy Chicago more. We grabbed a bite to eat, and then jumped back on the bus. Thankfully, our new driver still had a British accent, but was totally understandable. Even better, we got the front seats on the top deck! It totally felt like London!

As we approached Trafalgar Square I realized THIS is what I was missing from London. All the rest, the shopping, the parks, the squares, it didn't feel like my image of the city. This. This was the London I'd been waiting for. The National Gallery, the monuments, and THEN, further down the road, Downing Street, Parliament, Parliament Clock Tower with Big Ben inside, Westminster Abbey. LONDON, people, we're in LONDON! It was amazing.

The tour continued across the river to that (sorry) hideously ugly London Eye. What is WITH that thing? Ugh, Josh and I could barely stand to look at it. Then the Tate Modern, the Docklands, the recreated Shakespeare Globe Theatre, eventually crossing back over the Tower Bridge (what I'd previously thought was the London Bridge), passing by the Tower of London, and then through the actual city of London (where the financial district is), and St. Paul's Cathedral (where Prince Charles and Princess Di were married).

The bus looped back around and we got off next to The Ritz, where of course I took some Notting Hill dedicated pictures and pretended to be Julia Roberts. I mean, wouldn't you?

And then we grabbed a coffee and booked it back over to the National Gallery to do a SPEED TOUR of the museum. Literally, a speed tour in under an hour. Kind of shameful, but kind of awesome, I'm not going to lie. The museum guards booted us out promptly at 6pm, in such a hurry to close the museum, I lost my only winter hat inside, which was kind of a bummer, and they wouldn't let me back in to look for it! Bastards.

I did take several precious minutes to stand on the balcony of the National Gallery and just be. Stand in the shadows of the setting sun and breathe in London. Glimpse the mess of traffic, the crowds, the street performers, and as I was standing there, Big Ben began to sound. Surreal, honestly, and gloriously wonderful. Not a moment I'll soon forget.

We were quickly approaching THEATRE TIME so we started walking back in that direction and stopped in a pizza place on the way, before seeing the show. It was around this point that I realized, rather stupidly, that my wish for seeing a show featuring actors with British accents wasn't going to be fulfilled. Because, you see, Chicago is set in, oh wait, you guessed it, CHICAGO. So the British actors and actresses were going to be modeling American accents. Isn't that freaking fantastic? I'm practically a genius. Regardless, the show was fabulous. Sexy, and sultry, and funny, and everyone was ridiculously talented, and the music was gorgeous, and we loved it. When we came outside it had started raining, as it does in London, and Josh and I walked the streets at midnight, hand in hand, in the rain, singing the music. Sigh.

Another bus ride home, another Skyped call with the kids (where they asked me again to please come home tonight) and to bed, to bed, for another crazy day tomorrow. At this pace, I might be wearing Josh out. What do you think?

lesson learned, london is crazy at Christmastime

2011-01-18T15:33:00.004-05:00

I know, I know, I stink. This pesky family thing keeps getting in the way, plus all the SNOW, good lord, it won't stop snowing around here. Moving on, though...

Day 2- December 26th, otherwise known as Boxing Day:

The airport's Hilton is connected to Heathrow's Terminal 4 by a walkway, so we took our two carry-ons and a purse (AND THAT'S IT!!!), well and our scarves and gloves and hats and jackets and all that, and walked to catch the subway to LONDON! And then discovered that the subway was on strike. Yes, that's right, the Tube workers were on strike and we were left with no way to get into the city, which was precisely why we'd spent the money to stay at the stinking airport the night before anyway. After shuffling back and forth in the terminal trying to find someone, ANYONE, who would give us advice on what to do, all the while cognizant of the fact that the flat owner's housekeeper was waiting for us at the flat only until 10:30am, I sat down with our guide book (highly recommend) and determined that our only option was a more expensive train. We were stuck, though, so we bit the bullet and paid our $60 and hoped the subways within London would be running once we made it to the train station there.

Surprise, surprise, they weren't. The Tube was completely shut down, and the clock was ticking away, and we hadn't even changed any money into British Pounds yet, and I didn't have a cell phone, so I had no way of calling the housekeeper, and frankly, we were both starting to panic. We surfaced onto the street to see if the buses were running and if we could figure out where we were. At this point, the logical thing would have been to take a taxi, right? But we had a serious budget, and taking that train had already blown the budget for the whole day and I didn't even know where we were in relation to Fulham, and plus, we had no cash, and I didn't want to get stuck with another massive taxi fare on top of the train, so buses it was.

Thankfully, a good citizen told us which bus to take to get us into the general vicinity of Fulham, and then, miracle of miracles, I spotted a Hilton hotel across the street. I raced in there, explained my situation to the concierge (just stayed at the airport Hilton last night, have no coins, can't find a phone, subway not working, etc.) and he lent me their phone (sweet wonderful man), so at least the housekeeper situation was squared away.

We took not one, but TWO buses, at which point I was almost kissing my little carry-on for its ease of transport, and we made it to Fulham. Then my brilliant husband used his Blackberry gps to get us to the house and we were able to collapse onto the couch and consider what to do next. Honestly? We were beat at this point. We'd already been up for several hours and running around in a rather stressed state, so all my plans to take a bus tour and hit all the major sights were kind of thrown out the window. We decided to call today a lost day and relax as we enjoyed the city.

We took a bus to Hyde Park, where a traditional German Christmas Market was being held (and you know how much I love German Christmas Markets). We walked through the market and admired the food and the stuff and exclaimed to each other HOW FREAKING COLD IT WAS. Seriously, it was fuh-reezing. Frigid. It was so cold, I started to worry Josh was going to pack up and leave me to change his ticket to Jamaica. Hat, gloves, scarves, coats, long underwear, and still freezing our butts off cold, so we briskly walked through the park and headed to the shopping area.

Now. A friend had told me that Boxing Day is to Londoners what Black Friday is to us- i.e. a total freaking shopping nightmare. We still didn't fully realize how much Londoners love their shopping until we reached Oxford Street, and then holy smokes. It was like walking in New York City's Times Square crossed with Rockefeller Center, at Christmastime. I have no words. We were totally overwhelmed and squished and were being pushed and shoved and pulled apart by the crowds. It was nuts. I thought the British were orderly people!

We finally ducked into a department store to grab some food, which happened to be Selfridges, the second largest department store in London. Um, wow. The food, the displays, the goods, we were awestruck. We stuffed ourselves, and warmed up a bit, until we felt ready to brave the crowds again. We had a plan this time, though. We side stepped through the crowds, on a mission to reach Regent Street, an upscale street full of shops that would lead to Piccadilly Circus and the Leicester Square and Covent Garden. Regent Street was gorgeous, a mix of old buildings and new shops, on a curved street, where all of the building followed the curve of the road. It was pretty impressive, but my only disappointment was that the stores were your typical US stores, exactly what you'd find at your local mall- Banana Republic, Gap, Clarks, Victoria's Secret, etc. It was around this time that Josh and I started playing a game where we'd punch each other in the arm every time we saw a Starbucks. It sounds strange, but honestly, it was hilarious because we were punching each other every couple of minutes! Londoners LOVE them some Starbucks! Not surprisingly, though, the tea menu in Starbucks takes up more than half of the menu, as opposed to our typical lattes and mochas.

We walked for a couple of hours, enjoying the sights, relishing in the British accents we were hearing, and then stopped at a coffee shop (not Starbucks) for a pick me up. We sunk into squishy chairs at a tiny table next to the window, and then, um, I passed out. Like completely fell asleep in mid-conversation. No exaggeration. Josh tried to wake me up, couldn't, so he took a picture and let me nap for 20 minutes. With a tiny snooze under my belt, I felt awake enough to continue on. We perused some of the theatres and their shows because I was dying to see a musical or play or something. We wandered through Covent Garden and its shops, had a quick kiss at the Merry Kissmas Tree (very cute), and completed half of Rick Steves' walking tour through the West End of London, until I was falling over on my feet and I waved the white flag of defeat. We boarded another bus (on our way to becoming the bus experts we would be at the end of the trip) and grabbed dinner in Fulham on our way back to the flat.

(I can't believe I'm posting this picture for the world to see)

A quick note to say, I hadn't actually believed the food in London would not be good, because it is a major city! How could the food be bad? Can't you find good food everywhere? But, um, it was less than stellar. I think out of 6 days we had one halfway decent meal, and several really unappetizing meals, but the rest of London totally made up for it.

A quick Skype call to the kids, where I listened to their sad little voices ask me if I was coming home tonight (a question they would ask every night) and we crashed. I think the combination of the time change, the walking, and the COLD did us in. We fell asleep at 10pm, with big plans for Day 3 of London!

(**to be updated with pictures tomorrow, I SWEAR, but I'm falling asleep on the keyboard right now)

london!

2011-01-16T22:41:00.004-05:00

London! London! London! I still gush when people ask me how it was because, oh, wow, you guys, it was totally worth it.

For starters, we really couldn't afford (financially) to take this trip. It was a terrible idea from a budgetary standpoint, but you know what is really expensive? A DIVORCE. So I decided to scrimp and save and pinch pennies and take every last holiday and birthday present I've received over the last 5 years and put it toward our trip. Since I stopped working four (!!!) years ago, we've cut out so many things- trips, dinners, clothing, shoes, haircuts, dry cleaning, babysitters, and anything else you can think of, and lately I've realized that there are some things we really shouldn't be cutting out.

Somehow and somewhere we need to find the money to hire a babysitter, even if it is once every couple of months, and spend a bit of time together as a couple. We need to continue to go out for pancakes every Sunday, because we've done it for 12 years and it is important. It means something to us. We need to go sit in a coffee shop and have an actual conversation without little people interrupting us or demanding our attention. We shouldn't have taken the trip, but I needed to walk with Josh, talk with Josh, hold hands with him, spend time alone. It was magical.

For starters, I was totally flexible on where we would go, as long as the tickets were a good deal, and London ended up being the best deal (although sheesh, I didn't realize the British Pound was quite THAT strong). British Airways was the airline, and we both highly recommend it.

Then, I knew I wanted to rent an apartment because we've done that before, and it's worked out well for us so far. I found a flat in Fulham, which is a suburb of London right on the "Tube" (subway) and lots of bus routes. Fulham ended up being a really cute and trendy suburb full of shops and restaurants. The flat was an entire floor of a woman's house, and we had access to a full kitchen, bedroom and private bath. Best of all, it was less than HALF the price of even cheap hotels in London. Housing is expensive in London!

The place was great, very clean and comfy and large, and the owner was very friendly and kind, and even brought up electric blankets and trays of tea when it turned out to be colder than anticipated. The only strange thing, I will admit, is the knowledge that you are in someone else's house, with the owner sleeping directly below, if you get my drift. I felt the teensiest bit awkward about the, um, romantic parts of our vacation. We had complete privacy, but still, it is weird. When we rented an apartment in Prague, we never even met the owner, and probably I'd opt for something closer to that in the future, but I can't deny that the owner was incredibly helpful and generous throughout the trip. We were a 10-15 minute bus or Tube ride into the city, depending on where we were going, and it meant I got to sit on the top floor of a double decker bus multiple times a day. Yay!

Day 1: Christmas Day
We left on an 8am flight, and remember, Josh STILL didn't know where we were going! I'd spent all of last night packing for the two of us, and stressing over forgetting something crucial. Like gloves or his jacket, or enough pants, or something like that. At one point, I made a joke about us bringing back a little "souvenir" (i.e. a baby) and naming her London, which, what the hell was I thinking because I totally thought I gave it away?! But I realized fairly quickly what I'd done and then said we might be naming our souvenir Guadalajara, or Paris, or Rome, so I made a good attempt at covering it up. No worries on the souvenir, though! I made sure of that.

Anyway, my mom drove us to the airport in the morning and I'd pre-printed our boarding passes, so we were able to go through security, get a coffee, sit in a centralized location in the terminal before I revealed we were going to London! And he claims he was surprised, so yay! I'm never doing another surprise trip again, though, because UGH, the stress!

As we took off and the plane turned over the water, I did have a moment of panicky OH MY GOD WHAT ARE WE DOING? I was leaving my babies and crossing an ocean. To another continent. For SIX days! What's done is done, though, and I told myself not to spend another minute worrying about it and just enjoy the luxury of reading a book and watching a movie and eating a meal in silence! The flight was fabulous, and Josh and I had an empty seat between us so we spread out and relaxed. We landed at Heathrow at 7:30pm, but after security and customs, we didn't get out until around 9pm, at which time I stood at the exit doors of the Heathrow arrivals terminal and stared at the signs and pinched myself thinking, holy shit. I'm totally in London.

Oh, and I should mention, we somehow, shockingly, traveled with only a carry-on, which was a freaking miracle and I still don't know how we did it. 6 days of clothing (plus extras, just in case) packed into a tiny roll-aboard, but I highly recommend it. We didn't have to worry about lost luggage or waiting for bags, and I felt like such a jet-setter with this tiny bag. Plus, we were moving around the city before and after on public transportation, so small bags made everything much easier.

I'd tried for weeks to find a flat to rent that would take us on Christmas day, but London apparently shuts down for Christmas, including the Underground and the buses, and the taxis charged exorbitant fees to get into the city, so I finally bit the bullet and got us a room at the Heathrow Hilton for the night. I was disappointed not to be seeing London that same night, but honestly, it was great. We didn't have to rush and were able to walk into the hotel within a few minutes, check in, and grab some tea and dinner before it got too late. The hotel was modern and luxurious and totally sufficient. We turned on the television and breathed in the British accents and lounged in the comfy bed, and planned our day tomorrow. We skyped the kids before going to bed, and then turned in by midnight London time (7pm Boston time) so we'd be on the right schedule. I was exhausted, but didn't sleep great that night, probably due in equal parts to the time change and the excitement.

Tomorrow, we'd finally be in London. I could have screamed in excitement!

Day two- tomorrow!

another update!

2011-01-14T15:13:00.002-05:00

Bloodwork normal! Ultrasound normal! So now we.... hmmm.... no idea. The doctor apparently sent a letter to dictation that will be sent to me eventually with her recommendations, and nobody called me after I left two messages, which was super annoying. The nurse doesn't know what the recommendations are and the doctor is unavailable, and she got a bit snippy with me when I suggested that perhaps sending me a letter next week when the doctor's original voicemail rather urgently told me to go to the hospital was, well, I don't know, RUDE?

I am choosing to not obsess over the rudeness since I'm thrilled the results are normal, but still, isn't that obnoxious? Especially after I left the two messages saying I was nervous and wanted to hear the results, and as far as the doctor knows, I didn't even hear anything at the ultrasound! Grrr. But whatever, moving on.

So all of this leaves me- with no idea what to do or how to handle my upcoming cycle. I am incredibly grateful for your advice and I am dosing up on iron and vitamins and will keep Advil handy and hope that one of the above works. Beyond that, though, I'm so grateful to hear other people in a similar situation and to stop worrying that I'm going through early menopause which I REALLY AND TRULY did think I was. My mom actually laughed in my face when I told her my deep fears about this. She says she didn't even start having symptoms until she was 50, so she thinks I have a ways to go. I hope she's right. But thank you, again, for your candidness. Chocolates for everyone!

Now I can move onto telling you all about London, and a very! exciting! insane! trip! I am planning for June and July. With my two children. And no husband. To another continent. I am booking tickets today, and then I will share. Don't want to jinx it.

update

2011-01-13T16:20:00.002-05:00

I went in for the ultrasound, and God bless her, had the NICEST ultrasound technician EVER. Seriously, ever. She said she wasn't supposed to tell me what she was seeing, but that as long as I didn't hear it from her, she'd keep me updated step by step.

Interesting fact, did you know your uterus lays flat? Like a deflated balloon? So the sides touch each other? Crazy! I totally didn't know that. I assumed it was inflated all the time or something, with space in the middle.

Anyway, a two hour ultrasound later, she saw nothing. Thank goodness. My doctor's office scheduled it on an emergency basis, so I had Josie with me, and had brought nothing to keep her occupied, and poor Gabe was sitting at school after hours without any lunch until 3pm (!!) because it took so much longer than anticipated. But she saw nothing nothing nothing. She said it was a little difficult to see clearly into the lining because it looked particularly thick (whatever that means) but there didn't appear to be fibroids or polyps or anything like that, so either it's hormonal, or it's nothing.

I'm thrilled, of course, and relieved it is over, since 2 hours of being poked and prodded and generally uncomfortable is not enjoyable, and I was stressed over the results, and stressed over having poor Josie with me (who by the way, behaved like an utterly shocking perfect angel) and stressed over poor Gabe sitting at school. Thankfully the teachers fed him what they had in the classrooms- crackers, cream cheese, juice and a clementine. Random, but fine.

Now I'm waiting anxiously for the results of the blood test and hoping all this snow doesn't delay them. Fingers crossed.

if you're squeamish, run for the hills

2011-01-10T20:59:00.002-05:00

In case you didn't read the title, this post is definitely not for the squeamish of heart, or those who are uncomfortable talking about "female troubles."

Here, I'll give you a minute to click click click away...
******************************************************

Okay, so. A few months ago, I noticed my periods were getting heavier. Noticeably heavier, and I was having these crazy acne episodes throughout the month, but more so as my period approached. I would get these terrible pimples under the skin, almost like cysts, that would become huge lumps on my chin or cheeks, but would never surface. A hard red lump would result, and then after a week they would just go away on their own. Diet, face washes, nothing seemed to make a difference. Also, I've been quick to cry for random reasons, most of the time not even because I was sad or upset. Someone would say something sweet or funny or slightly sappy, and I'd almost burst into tears. It was ridiculous, and kind of embarrassing, you know?

Anyway, as the months went on, my periods have gotten significantly worse, and I keep having these blood clots during the first two days. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I was having a miscarriage. Not for 6 months, though, obviously.

I know, this is way too much information, but I'm hoping maybe someone has been through this before and might have thoughts.

This last month was the worst. The blood clots were fairly large and there were several, enough so that I've started to worry. I'm also starting to think I might be anemic because I was thinking back to last month and this month, and I've been more tired than usual, I think. It is hard to tell for sure, because obviously chasing after two kids makes you tired, and November and December were crazy months for me with the holidays and two birthdays, so I could have just been tired because I'm tired, right?

So today I finally called my OB to say, what the hell? And I kept telling myself that I would gauge how much I should worry on her reaction. Her reaction was less than ideal, it turns out. She told me to come in asap for blood work and hormone levels and complete blood count, and she wants to do an ultrasound to look for fibroids or polyps and I don't know what else, and then we'll go from there.

I'm kind of freaking out.

I'm freaking out over the possibility that I won't be able to have another baby. What if it's pre-menopause? I'm freaking out over the possibility that I'll have to take hormones. Have some sort of surgery. Have to have a hysterectomy. Other even more awful possibilities have crossed my mind, of course. What if it is cervical cancer or a uterine tumor or something like that. I don't know what I thought my doctor would say when I called, but I didn't think she would sound so urgent. Now of course it is too late to call the office, so I'm stewing until the morning when I can make an appointment to come in and start the tests. Josh keeps making all these statements that only serve to freak me out more, like "it'll be fine because you're so strong," or "all I care about is a healthy wife." He only wants to help and be supportive, as usual, but I almost shuddered as he was talking.

Has anyone dealt with this before? Heard of this? Especially if you're here to tell me it is nothing, I welcome any and all advice. Unless you're going to tell me something horrid, then keep it to yourself, I guess.

the library battles

2011-01-05T15:37:00.005-05:00

We LOVE our library. Love. It is beautiful and sunny and child-friendly, with story hours several times a week, and after your suggestions of requesting books in advance, it has become one of my favorite outings with the kids. I sit at the computer late at night, making lists of recommended or popular books, and then head to the library page and request each book. Within a couple of days, I get an email and the books are held for me at the circulation desk of the library. This SAVES MY LIFE, seriously. I could never spend time browsing through books with the kids, or I should say, I could browse through the books, but not without the kids screaming bloody murder and disturbing everyone else. Requesting books allows me to read all the new and hot favorites, but without anyone shooting me dirty looks. You have changed my life, and that is no exaggeration.

A few days ago, though, I noticed on my account web page that our library was saying I'd checked out a book I KNEW I hadn't checked out. Additionally, it said I hadn't returned a book I knew I'd returned. If they'd said I checked out a kid's book I didn't remember, I could have believed it, because there have been times where I have 30 books checked out for the kids. The book was an adult book, however, and I was positive I'd never even seen it before, much less carted it home. Then there was the question of the book I KNEW I'd returned. In fact, as soon as the name popped up, I could picture the cover art. I knew I'd returned it because Gabe and I had an argument as I stood at the returns slot because he wanted to keep it, but it was a Halloween book and it was after Halloween and I saw no reason to keep a Halloween book, so I distracted him and tossed the book in.

I began to fret. I knew I didn't have these books, but I still felt the need to tear the house apart to make sure. I looked through every bookshelf in Gabe's room. I looked under his bed. Pulled his furniture away from the walls. Looked under his rugs, in his closet, in all his backpacks. I searched Josie's shelves, behind her crib, under her rocker. Crawled around my own bedroom and looked under beds, in baskets, on shelves. I checked the living room baskets, under the couches, inside the coffee table. Tore apart the basement, checked every shelf and storage drawer. I checked my car three separate times, and after I did all of this, my mom double checked everywhere I looked. I searched bags in the garage thinking maybe I was crazy and Josh had thrown books somewhere without my knowing.

I drove myself crazy. I began to envision these imaginary conversations where the library didn't believe me and made me pay for 2 separate books. The thing is, I pay late fees to the library all the time, and gladly. The free (!!) service the library provides to me is so awesome, and I'm so grateful, I will happily pay those minimal amounts of money. Even totaling up all the fees I've ever paid to the library, I'd still be saving so much money compared to if I had to purchase even a fraction of the books we read. It's totally worth it.

But this felt unjust and unfair. I knew this wasn't my fault, and because of this, I obsessed over having to pay for the two books. I had a knot in my stomach for several days as I hunted through the house and hoped they would turn up. Finally, though, the due date was upon us, and I was starting to accrue fees. I figured now was better than later if I was going to try to argue my case.

Josie and I dropped Gabe off at school and headed straight for the library. We arrived at the circulation desk, and as I looked at the desk clerk, I found myself at a loss for words. It sounded so ridiculous for me to be arguing that the library had made a mistake on two different books, no matter how convinced I was. I started talking anyway, and within a couple of minutes, the clerk had scanned my library card, looked over my account, and said, "Oh sure, no problem. I'll just remove these from your accounts. These computers are crazy sometimes."

And that was that.

All that stress, anxiety, worry, for NOTHING. It took about 2 minutes of talking, and no one questioned me or argued with me. My account was cleared in no time. Josie and I wandered into the kid's room to pick out some new books, and a few minutes later, the clerk followed us in to let me know he'd done a search himself and located the books on the shelves. Just. Like. That.

Isn't that a lesson? Why waste energy on something so silly, so petty, so UNNECESSARY. Sigh. If only everything in life could be this easy.

tardy tardy tardy

2011-01-05T14:32:00.003-05:00

Yesterday morning I took Josie out for a muffin at a local bakery, and glanced at my cell phone while we were sitting at the table- Josie enjoying her blueberry muffin, and me enjoying my french vanilla coffee. She looked up at me as I tucked my phone away and said, "hurry hurry mommy, we're late!"

And I realized that PERHAPS I might be rushing the kids too much. And PERHAPS my system of waiting until the last possible minute to get somewhere could possibly be stressing my children out. And PERHAPS, I should attempt to leave a little more time to get places. Who knows, I might even start arriving on time? Doubtful, but you never know, right?

So this morning, I woke up a WHOPPING one hour and 15 minutes earlier. Gabe has to be at school between 9 and 9:15am every morning, and I usually get out of bed (wait for it) at 8am. I know. Insane, no? That leaves me exactly one hour to shower (and wash and dry hair every other day), get dressed, change Josie's diaper, dress Josie, make sure Gabe is dressed, feed all three of us, get all of Gabe's school items together, shoes on everyone, jackets and mittens and hats in the car, and all of us to Gabe's school that is 8 minutes away. This usually involves a mad driving dash, with me yelling at everyone to buckle seat belts faster and HURRY UP HURRY UP HURRY UP, and any minor detour, such as slow putting on of shoes, is enough to push me over the edge into frustrated and yelling mommy. Gabe will cheer me on from the back seat and tell me to drive faster and pass cars to get there on time. Miraculously, we've only been late about 3 times, mainly because arriving late involves a walk of shame through the whole school past every single classroom because Gabe's class is on the far side of the school, rather than the glorious pick-up by the teacher from the car (best part of school, I swear).

Anyway, this morning Josh convinced me to get up at 6:45am, which is the time he leaves for work anyway. SIX FORTY-FIVE AM! I sat at the kitchen table with him for 5 minutes eating the scrambled eggs he'd made for us, yawning and wiping my eyes, and when he walked out the door, I started my day. I picked up the kitchen, living and dining rooms, took a shower, blew my hair dry, got dressed, and took out the garbage. By the time the kids got up at 8am, I was completely ready and could devote the whole hour to them. I laid out clothes for Gabe while he dressed himself, got Josie dressed, and made them oatmeal and toast and cut up some bananas on the side.

The kids actually had more than 3.4 minutes to eat their breakfast, and no one yelled. At all. And, I didn't have to speed down the road to school, and everyone got there on time. I'd even had time to throw all the library books and checks to deposit in the car, so as soon as I dropped Gabe off, I was able to run all my errands without having to stop back at the house to grab the things I'd forgotten/run out of time to grab. And I remembered to put out the trash for pick-up!

SHOCKING, I know!

Who knew that getting up earlier might let you get places on time. Without rushing, even! I can hardly believe it. I might even keep this up. Maybe. I'm falling asleep on the couch right now because I'm so tired from the early wake-up, but I'm considering it. There's always more afternoon cups of coffee.

happy new year!

2011-01-01T17:15:00.004-05:00

Anyone want a dead mouse?

Josh got home the day before we were leaving for London and saw a mouse casually making his or her way along the rails of the garage door and then ducking into a tiny hole in the wall near the ceiling. The ceiling that connects directly to my HOUSE. And I promptly freaked the fuck out.

I made him come with me at 9:50pm that night to the store to buy approximately 18,000 mouse traps, hoping beyond hope that we'd catch the mouse before we left for London. We didn't, but this morning I awoke to a bright and shining 2011, and 2 dead mice. Disgusting, and to be honest, a bit guilt-inducing because they are so tiny and cute, but still, I'm relieved. Even grosser, there was one additional trap with, ahem, a tiny little leg in the trap, but no mouse attached. Can a mouse live without a leg or should I continue with my nightmare of a three legged mouse dragging his bloody body within the walls of the house? (gag) The two mice in the traps have all four legs attached, in case you were wondering. I checked.

Josh and I were unable to stay awake for the new year festivities at midnight last night, particularly since we're still on London time and can barely keep our eyes open past 8pm. We did set our alarm for 11:55pm, though, and got up to watch the ball drop, kiss, and then head right back to bed. It was perfect.

Happy New Year to all of you! Wishing you laughter and love and good health for 2011, and rodents that stay out of your home!

just for chatty cricket

2010-12-29T18:56:00.004-05:00

I thought of Chatty Cricket when I took this! Also when it ate my 40 pence today while I was trying to make a phone call and I called it a "stupid bugger." Just because it sounded cooler.

I'm also going to say "rubbish" from now on instead of garbage. Additionally, I shall be going to the bathroom in the loo from now on. I asked for a restroom and they looked at me like I had two heads. Oh, and a skim coffee is a skinny- don't you love it!

four!

2010-12-28T17:45:00.005-05:00

Big Ben! Parliament! Westminster Abbey! Buckingham Palace! The National Gallery! Hyde Park! It's all been stunning and fabulous and we are having the best time.

For now, though, I'm here to wish my beautiful sweet boy the happiest birthday ever! Worst mother ever, right? I went back and forth on whether or not we should be traveling over Gabe's birthday, and although I'd love to be with him today, truth be told, he doesn't even know today is his birthday. We celebrated it a few days early with cake and gifts and lots of hugs, and we'll celebrate it again on Friday, and then again in school, and then again with a small party in January. I think he'll get plenty of birthday fun, and a happy mom and dad is probably more important to him, so for now, I'll push my mother's guilt to the side.

So... onto more important things (written the night before I left for London)...

To My Dear Sweet Gabriel,

Happy Birthday!

Four years old! How is that possible? How can you be growing up so fast? I can almost believe it, though, because I see and hear the ways you are changing. Your speech is more complex, your mannerisms are more grown-up, you're getting taller, stronger, more coordinated
every day. You're wonderful and amazing and funny and the sweetest son we could ever wish for.

My favorite part of the day is when you come down the hall in the morning and climb into my bed. You snuggle up against my side and whisper, "Mama..." into my ear, and I just melt. For now, at least, you are so affectionate, so loving, so ridiculous disgustingly adorable, it just kills me. You hug and kiss me constantly, and want to climb onto my lap to snuggle with me. You love to be "comfy cozy" and we'll get under blankets and watch movies or read books, and
sometimes Josie will come and sit with us and you'll kiss her and say, "Hello baby girl!"

You love your sister to death, although since you two are interacting and playing together all the time now, there are also many moments where your screams and complaints drive me crazy. You love to run and laugh and tackle each other, and you are such an excellent big brother, teaching her, sharing with her, being (mostly) patient with her. You tell her you love her and get upset at bedtime if she won't give you your nightly besito and abrazo.

You adore your daddy too, and seeing him play with you and enjoy your company is such a treat. Last night you asked him if he missed you while he was at work, and when he said of course he did, you said, "yeah, I miss you too." You tickle each other and laugh until you can barely breathe, and you tell him stories about your day and of course, Buzz Lightyear.

What would we do without Buzz Lightyear? He is your one true obsession these days, and shopping for you has become the easiest thing ever because all you want is Toy Story All The Time. You're hilarious because you tell us complete stories about what Buzz said or did or what you think Buzz might do if he were here. You are growing up so fast and gaining this amazing imagination, it is such a pleasure to watch.

You are the most amazing blessing to us, Gabe, and I thank God every day that you're my son. You are so sweet and easy-going and happy, and I pray you stay this innocent and content forever. You are perfect and wonderful and gorgeous and brilliant. The things you learn every day astound me.

Tonight I told you that you were the most perfect Gabe to me, and I was so thankful that you were mine, and you told me you didn't want anyone else to be the same Gabe as you. You don't have to worry, my sweet boy, no one could ever be you. No one could ever take your place in my heart, and forever and ever and ever, you will be my baby.

I love you,
Mama

happy chrismukkah!

2010-12-25T00:42:00.003-05:00

Happy Holidays everyone!

We're off tomorrow morning, well, this morning actually, and I'm proceeding to freak out over planes going down and terrorist threats and well, pretty much everything.

I know I shouldn't be thinking about all of this, but since it's my first time leaving the kids for longer than 48 hours. And definitely my first time leaving them on an overseas flight with Josh on the same plane, I am giving myself a bit of leeway to have a little breakdown. I even wrote them each letters, morbidly, just in case.

I figure if I really plan for every possibility, then it won't happen. Right? That's totally the way it works, isn't it?

Here's to a wonderful holiday season for each of you! And a happy new year too! (although I plan to update before the new year) And here is to a safe and happy trip for Josh and I! At least London has called off the snow long enough for us to arrive! Hurray! Wish us luck!

seriously Josh, go away

2010-12-19T22:57:00.004-05:00

London! London! London!

That is pretty much what the inside of my head is looking like these days! London! London! London! I forget, and then I remember, and I'm bursting with excitement all over again.

If I manage to keep this a legitimate secret until Saturday, it'll be a freaking miracle. I was relatively safe because Josh was in Germany for his company's holiday party all this week, but still, I've already slipped on so many occasions because I want to talk about it all the time. I've already accidentally said that we are going on a non-stop flight, which totally narrows down the field. Then yesterday, he called me from Frankfurt because he was concerned his flight was going to be canceled due to snow, "Yes, I said, as a matter of fact... oh... nothing." "What?" he said. "No seriously, never mind," I insisted. "Were you going to say that the place where we're going is also closed due to snow?" he asked. "No, not at all," and then I changed the subject because that is EXACTLY what I was about to say. Ugh. Idiot.

I am very concerned about the snow situation, not because I care about being in London with snow. In fact, snow would make London more magical and beautiful, in my mind, but all London airports were closed for most of this weekend, and THAT, my friends, is alarming. I wouldn't mind being stuck in London once we're there, but I do not want to be delayed. I have pubs to be visited, changing of the guards to watch, teas to be drunk, markets to be explored, accents to be imitated.

I've rented a flat for us in an area not too far from the center of London. We rented an apartment in Prague and it worked out beautifully, so I'm trying it out again. Hopefully the apartment is as described, and the transportation is as easy as promised. I'm scouring the guidebooks for an itinerary that will work for us, and besides the must-sees, I plan on us spending lots of time people watching, relaxing, and enjoying the city.

London! London! London! Off to re-watch Notting Hill, Love Actually, and maybe The Holiday. Can I throw in any more movies set in England? Set in England at Christmas time, even better! Ack!

josh, if you're reading this, step away from the computer

2010-12-15T16:34:00.001-05:00

I don't need to tell you that being a parent is sometimes hard. Often times, draining, even frustrating. Staying connected to your spouse can be difficult. As one of my friends keeps reminding me, "those little suckers will take it all, if you let them!" Josh and I are not immune to that strain, although we both do our best to make our relationship a priority. Still, newborns and infants and toddlers are REALLY FREAKING DEMANDING, in case you didn't know.

Florida was great, warm, exciting, and I have so many stories to tell you about Disney World, and cute children, and of course, what vacation of ours would be complete without a trip to the Emergency Room? We're working on hospital "Platinum Status." After our 10th visit, the 11th co-pay is free. While it was crazy fun, it was crazy stressful too. Remember, we went to Sarasota for 4 days, Orlando for 5 days, Sarasota for 2 days, Orlando for 2 days, Sarasota for 2 days, and Fort Lauderdale for 3 days. Oh, and except for Thanksgiving day, and the two days we spent at Disney World, Josh worked every.single.day. sometimes from 7am until 9pm at night. I was ready to tear my hair out by the end, and I think the kids are still adjusting to life at home and regular schedules.

Josh and I were bickering, a lot. Spending the little bit of time we spent together not speaking because we didn't want to continue arguing in front of my in-laws or the kids. It stunk, in many ways. By the end of the trip, I felt so exhausted by the whole situation, I started counting the hours until I was back in my house. Thankfully, THANKFULLY, things have been great since we've been home. Back in our own environment, we reverted back to our regular non-stressed selves and things are fabulous. Everyone is thrilled to be home.

But, all that bickering reminded me that we need to spend time together, sans children, just us, staying connected as a couple, enjoying each other's company. So... I asked my parents if they would watch the kids for us if I could find a deal for us to get away for a couple of days. Even better, my mom said, I'll fund the whole thing if you two will get away. And so we are.

TO LONDON!!!!

I know! I know! I'm jumping up and down over here!!!!! I've always, always, always wanted to go to London. Always, seriously, it is on my "Life List" of things to do before I die (which reminds me I need to post my incomplete list and maybe you all can give me suggestions). Anyway, I spent 2 straight days researching packages and found an impossible to refuse, ridiculously inexpensive flight to London, and so WE'RE GOING!

But shhhhhh! Josh doesn't know! I'm planning the whole thing as a surprise getaway, and all he knows is that he needs to take off of work and be ready to go. Today he told me it was "totally obvious we were going on a boat." Um, what? Apparently because I told him he couldn't work while on vacation, and that there wouldn't be wi-fi where we were going, we're going on a cruise. I guess it doesn't occur to him that I just don't want him to work while we're on a romantic vacation. Go figure.

So throw your advice at me! Have you been to London? Do you have must-see tips? Our housing isn't totally cemented, but I'm looking at the Notting Hill/Kensington area, because HELLO? I'm obsessed with the movie. Big Ben! Parliament! Double decker buses! Here we come!

happy birthday josie!

2010-12-13T22:33:00.003-05:00

To My Sweet Baby Girl,

I find myself at a loss tonight, on the eve of your second birthday, trying to find the words to tell you what joy you have brought to our lives.

You are wonderful. Funny. Beautiful. Smart. Charming. Fierce. Stubborn. Loving. Joyful. And more, much much more. Several times every day, I wish I had a video camera to capture that look, your lilting little voice, the hilarious things you do. You are such a devil and so sweet, all wrapped up in one person.

Your brother loves you, even when you follow him around stealing toys from under his nose. He'll turn to you and say, "Oh baby girl, I love you!" just two minutes later.

Your father is utterly charmed by you, and I catch him sneaking hugs and kisses all the time.

And me, well, you make me crazy on a regular basis because you are so strong-willed and curious and busy, but I am so proud of you, it almost hurts. You are my little muffin, my Jo Jo, my Josephine Jellybean, my littlest monster, my love, my baby. I am so stinking lucky to be your mom.

You are amazing.

I love you with every fiber of my being. Remember that always.
Mommy

[Pictures to Follow]

even more of a gleek

2010-12-12T12:02:00.000-05:00

I still walk around the house yelling "HIT IT!" to Josh, who still looks at me like I'm crazy when I bust into song.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, you should.

I also want those boots. And that skirt. And those legs. And maybe the hair too.

on being thankful

2010-12-11T00:02:00.002-05:00

Remember a year ago? When I admitted I hated our neighborhood and hated living here, and felt like the house was out to get me with the illnesses and the accidents and the breaking stuff? I forget, did I tell you that part? Let's pretend I didn't actually believe that. My husband, because he is a saint, told me that if I gave it a year and I was still miserable, we would move, even if it was a crazy thing to do.

Amazingly enough, just knowing that we could move in a year if I still felt awful was enough to make me feel better. Not perfect, but better. And then I gave it time, and effort, and patience, and things actually did start to get better. Gabe stopped going to school in our old town so I wasn't driving an hour every day to preschool, and I started spending time in our own community. Over the summer I walked around the neighborhood and took the kids to the park and the beach and met people and came out of my shell and made friends. I asked perfect strangers if they'd like to do a playdate or grab coffee, and with time, I found a little circle of friends. Josie and I joined a playgroup, I started a book club, I came to love our neighborhood. I came to be incredibly grateful for the move and the house and the changes we've made.

Don't get me wrong, I still occasionally go to our old neighborhood and look at the smaller houses, closer together, right on the subway line, with sushi and ice cream in walking distance, and I feel a tiny pang of sadness, but I am positive that this move was the right thing for our family. The right thing for my children, who already have so much more than I ever had in my life.

Just remind me of this the next time I sound like an ungrateful bitch, okay?

maybe I should use the Hanukkah bush for kindling?

2010-12-08T23:38:00.002-05:00

You guys. OH MY GOODNESS, you guys. Josh is going to kick. my. ass.

Yesterday, a friend called me to say she was ordering some firewood and it was far cheaper to just split it and pay one delivery fee, so did I want to go in on her firewood with her. Greenhouse dried, very reputable guy, popular in our town firewood, so I said, "um, sure!"

I love fires, but if I'm telling the honest to goodness truth, I only buy Duraflame-type logs. Or actually not even Duraflame, but some even more ridiculously expensive Whole Foods brand of coffee grounds compressed logs. Needless to say, these logs are so expensive, we don't burn a lot of fires.

Anyway, we have our new house which has two working fireplaces (which reminds me, I owe you some pictures) and I thought, now is the time to start buying real firewood. Our garage is also large enough to house the wood, so what the hell. We'll try it.

She said we would be splitting a cord of wood, and bless her heart, it turns out she similarly had no idea quite how much wood a cord of wood is but she assured me it wasn't much. Until 3:30pm today when she called and I answered and she said, "you're going to kill me." A cord of wood is a SHITLOAD of wood, it turns out. And half a cord of wood is really only marginally less than a shitload of wood, and we're back to the above- Josh is going to kick. my. ass. when he gets home and sees this insane amount of wood sitting in the middle of our garage. The pile literally comes up to my waist and takes up half the garage. Is this right? Is half a cord of wood really this much?

Anyway, the man who sold us the wood was lovely and kind and gave me several pointers on how to stack the wood and how to burn the wood and when I told him I'd planned to stack it on a tarp, he told me in exquisite detail why that was totally incorrect. And then we pulled out a wooden pallet from my basement and he cut it in half with his chainsaw (for free) so I'd have two firewood width pallets for the wood. I've spent 3 hours stacking it (so far) and we're still not even halfway done. I am in so much trouble. I actually considered going to my neighbors trying to get them to buy some wood from us, but it was too cold and I think I'm in denial.

I don't even know how to make a freaking fire with real firewood! I tried tonight, with the kids watching over my shoulder exclaiming over my every move, and it just puttered out pitifully. I even watched some instructional videos, and no luck. Anyone want to exchange firewood for fire-burning tips?

some firsts

2010-12-02T23:10:00.002-05:00

I know we've discussed before that Josh is Jewish and I'm Catholic, and not surprisingly, December is a tough time of year for us. Or well, a tough time of year for me. When we were dating and it became abundantly clear very early on that this relationship was for the long haul, we agreed we would pick one religion for our children rather than have the kids attempt to celebrate both Christianity and Judaism. For many different reasons, we ended up choosing Judaism, so the kids are being raised Jewish. Since Judaism passes through the mother, they were both converted when they were a few months old with a ceremony and a party and a dunking under water at a traditional Jewish bath.

It has worked out for us, and it turns out I am an excellent fake Jew. One of my friends works at a temple and she says regularly that I'm more Jewish than most of the Jews she knows, so my kids seem to be doing just fine. The real trouble is, however, you don't realize how much of your childhood memories are tied up in religion until you can't celebrate those things anymore. No Easter baskets, no references to Santa Claus, no Christmas trees, no advent wreaths, no midnight masses. When I was a practicing Catholic, I went to church every week, did youth group, was a lector at church, participated in tons of holiday events. It has been a huge change for me to raise children who aren't Catholic.

Last year, I found myself feeling particularly sad as the holidays approached. I felt as if none of my childhood rituals were being passed down to my kids, as if I had nothing to share. It was a difficult December, especially with the multiple hits of the stomach flu and ear infections. As December came to a close, I sat down with Josh and told him something had to change. I cannot feel this way for the rest of my life, and as we often do when issues come up, we talked about what changes we can make.

After much gnashing of teeth and discussion, we are going to incorporate some of my traditions and call them by different names. Last year we colored Passover eggs with the kids, and although I suspect Josh was a little uncomfortable, it worked, the kids had fun, and I was happy. This year, for the first time ever, we are trying out a "Hanukkah bush". We will be decorating a small tree with silver and blue Hanukkah ornaments, most of which I suspect we will make with the kids. Doing something like this is controversial, for sure, and I expect to hear some negative comments from our Jewish friends and family, but I feel strongly that everyone has to do what works for their family. We'll try it this year and see whether it works or not, and maybe do things differently next year.

We'll also be celebrating Hanukkah, of course, with songs and cookies and community events and latkes and stories. I'm not too worried about the kids, especially because that's why we're here. If there is ever any confusion, we'll explain it. And then we'll explain it again. And again, if we need to. Hopefully this year will be a happier year for everyone.

gleeked out

2010-11-16T21:44:00.004-05:00

Did you watch Glee tonight? And if you didn't, why the heck not? Holy smokes! Glee is awesome!

Well, their final song reminds me of my all-time favorite wedding moment EVER! My BFF from law school, let's call her M, was dying to dance to Umbrella as her wedding song with her husband. He looked at her like she was a lunatic, so she told her dad about how disappointed she was. Of course, because her dad is awesome, he said, "well, then we'll do it ourselves!"

So for her father-daughter dance, they started off with a regular old slow dancing dance, and about halfway through, BUSTED A MOVE to Umbrella. None of us knew, and I am not kidding you when I say, I laughed until I cried. It was awesome, on so many levels. Not the least of which both M and her dad are unbelievable dancers. It was crazy and amazing and so much fun. Just like my wonderful friend!

Ok, now go watch tonight's episode of Glee! Love love love!

at-ti-tude

2010-11-15T22:19:00.002-05:00

Josie spilled her cereal snack on the living room floor tonight and as I surveyed the mess, I said, "Uh-oh, you need to pick up all that cereal, Josie."

She answered, "No, mommy pick up my cereal. I no wanna pick up my cereal. Mommy pick it up."

Um, excuse me? I assured her that I would NOT be picking up anyone's cereal and she could either pick it up right that minute, or go up to her crib for some quiet time. Without responding, and without making eye contact, she walked over and started picking up the cereal. But I swear, she refused to acknowledge that I'd asked her to pick it up! It was as if she was willing to do it, but didn't want to let me know she was doing it just because I was making her do it!

Oh, the teenage years are going to be SO MUCH FUN.

buzz better be on his best behavior

2010-11-12T16:17:00.000-05:00

In other AMAZING news, we are leaving for Florida on Thursday! For 2.5 weeks! I know! Crazy! I am slightly concerned about the whole staying with in-laws for 2.5 weeks thing, not because I don't love my in-laws (because I do), but because staying with ANYONE for 2.5 weeks could be challenging.

For any would-be home robbers out there, Josh is staying here for a huge chunk of that time and then we have house guests for the rest, so don't even think about it.

Anyway, our schedule is psychotic for the trip. We are going to Sarasota for 3 days, then Orlando for 6 days, then back to Sarasota for 2 days, then back to Orlando for DISNEY (more on that later) for 2 days, then back to Sarasota for 3 days, then on to Fort Lauderdale for 3 days. And then home. Phew. I'm exhausted just writing that. I'm hoping for good weather and well-behaved kids. If I have the well-behaved kids part, it can rain every single freaking day for all I care.

Most exciting out of that whole trip is that rite of passage for parents and their children- Disney! I am ridiculously excited. RIDICULOUSLY EXCITED! I keep picturing Gabe's little face when he sees the castle, when he rides It's a Small World, when he sees BUZZ LIGHTYEAR! He may pee his pants. Seriously. We decided, after not much consideration at all, to leave Josie with my in-laws. I've been shocked, honestly, at the amount of flack we've gotten about that decision, when to us it was a no brainer. Josie would think it was fun, she definitely would, and you know, maybe she'd be great. But in our minds, we are going for 2 days, and trying to make the most out of those 48 hours. This means non-stop walking, rides, long and possibly hot days, and crowds. Josie won't remember, and she doesn't know characters and she is hesitant about rides. She isn't going to love it the way we KNOW Gabe is going to love it.

We never get to spend one on one time with Gabe, and I am looking forward to every little second I get to spend alone with him. I plan on inhaling that tiny little person, holding the tiny little hand, eating up every word he says. I cannot wait. He is at this perfect age where he is excited about everything, but scared of nothing. He doesn't get spooked by scary rides or pirates or ghosts, and he loves all characters, girly or boyish or in-between. It's going to be awesome.

I have my encyclopedia of Disney information, and we're going at what should be one of the best and least crowded times of the year (first week in December), and we're making all our final reservations and plans now, but I'm still looking for more advice. We've done Disney without kids before, but never before with little ones. Please do share all your tips! In return, I'll share any secrets I learn while we're away! In particular, did you have a favorite hotel that didn't cost a fortune? Also, is there a way to get cheaper park tickets? Those suckers cost a fortune!

Oh also, did anyone take preschoolers to Disney Hollywood Studios? We're considering it just because of the Toy Story ride, but I hadn't planned on it initially. Should we just do Magic Kingdom for 2 days?

am I going to start talking to myself soon too?

2010-11-11T00:23:00.002-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, October 22nd to be exact, I found myself looking at opening night of Paranormal Activity 2 and no one to go with. I tried to convince my college roommate to go with me, since she and I go to all the scary movies, but she refused. Something about babies in the movie and her being pregnant blah blah blah. I asked around, but most people met my question with a horrified stare akin to me asking them if they ate puppies for breakfast.

So, I went alone.

It was my first solo movie ever, and I was a little nervous, but I'd recently seen this cute little video about learning to embrace being alone without being lonely, so I thought, what the hell. I'll try it.

It was, well, great! I did feel a little bit like I had leprosy, if I'm being honest, because of that whole ridiculous buffer we put between us and other people in movie theaters, so while the theater was packed, I had several empty seats around me because no one would sit next to me. And there were a couple of scary parts in the movie where I pulled my knees up to my chest and glanced around me wondering if anyone would try to kill me. And I did sprint, actually SPRINT, to my car afterward in case anyone decided to attack me. But besides that, it was great!

So great that I decided to do it again tonight. I was bummed because I mistakenly made plans to go see a musical with friends on the same day that I am throwing a baby shower. I know, DUH. I'm not entirely sure how it happened because I was the main planner of the musical outing, and went to pick up tickets at the theater and planned lunch with friends and didn't realize until today that the shower was Saturday rather than Sunday. The DATE I PICKED FOR THE SHOWER. I know, I know, I don't know how this happened either. Obviously the shower is light years more important, but still, I was seriously disappointed.

Anyway, I called Josh and told him about my foul mood and he suggested I go out tonight. Grab a coffee, go read a book, see a friend, whatever. I started to call a couple of people, and then remembered that I'd been dying to go see The Town, and figured, why not go see it alone? I got a cherry Pepsi, a popcorn with gobs of butter, and some fruit snacks. A dark theater, no one asking for anything, and it was PARADISE. A margarita would have helped, but this was pretty darn perfect.

I might be getting addicted to solo movies! It was so much fun! And since Josh hates movies, it lets me see what I want to see but then spend my friend time chatting with friends rather than sitting in a dark theater. Win win situation! The Town was good, too, in case you're wondering. I highly recommend.

life as I know it

2010-11-09T04:01:00.000-05:00

This is going to sound crazy, but sometimes I look at my life and feel surprised. Isn't that strange?

I mean, I met this man when I was 19. He was more boy than man, if I'm telling the truth. I fell in love with him, and we did the typical dating/engagement/marriage by the time I'd turned 24. Twenty-four! And now it's been 12 years we've been together, 8 married, and I can't believe this is my life. In a few short years I will have been with him longer than I was without him, and I cannot imagine my life without him. I don't even remember what it was like without him, and that is crazy.

I wonder sometimes, how did I know? How could I have known that this boy would become this wonderful husband? This amazing partner? This loving father? I wonder how I could have known that we would get along so well, love to spend time together, have shared values, be able to make it work. Was it just luck?

Don't get me wrong, he drives me crazy sometimes. Sometimes a lot crazy. Sometimes I feel like checking into a hotel and taking a vacation from everything, but that feeling always passes and I'm back to thanking my lucky stars for this life. These beautiful children. This unbelievable friendship. This person who tells me all he wants out of life is for me to be happy. That he'll do anything to make sure we're all happy. Isn't that nuts? And I always wonder- What did I do to deserve this?

josie jellybean

2010-11-07T23:10:00.000-05:00

I neeeed idea help, pretty pretty please!

I need to think of a theme, asap, for Josie's birthday. The problem is, this girl doesn't really play with toys or watch television. I know, I know, that sounds crazy, but I swear it is true. She will occasionally look at baby dolls in passing, but besides that, she floats all over the house throughout the day, not playing with anything in earnest.

My friend was saying this wasn't possible, but I narrated for her what a 15 minute span looks like:

Josie climbs on the coffee table, leans over the side, figures out she can do somersaults this way. (2 minutes)

Leaves for kitchen, drags chair over to counter, climbs up until mom takes chair away. (30 seconds)

Goes upstairs, disconnects noise machine. Brings noise machine down. Returns upstairs, retrieves cord for noise machine, brings it downstairs. (1.5 minutes)

Investigates what Gabe is doing, disrupts his play, gets yelled at by him, runs away with key piece of equipment, Gabe chases her down and steals it back. (2 minutes)

Goes into bathroom, turns on water, attempts to "wash hands" while really splashing water all over the bathroom. (1 minute)

Scales front hall closet cubbies, gets a hold of Mommy's purse hanging from high hook. Hides behind chairs in living room, removes all items silently. Distributes credit cards into the heating vents. (4 minutes)

Time out. (2 minutes)

Wait, did I already do that coffee table thing? Let me try it from the kitchen table too. (1 minute)

Time out. (2 minutes)

Seriously, this is what OUR WHOLE DAY is like. The thing is, I UNDERSTAND she is likely bored, but what am I supposed to do? Crafts aren't appealing, cooking neither, toys don't cut it, and television- don't even bother. Unless we are outside, she is causing mischief. It is lucky this little bugger is sooooo cute and funny or else she might be out on the curb.

But back to my original problem, what am I going to do for her birthday? I was originally going to do a monster theme- sort of cute and funny monsters. Mainly because I call her my little monster. I had lots of ideas for making primary colored monsters, and sewing little monsters for favors for the kids and having "me want cake" posters around the food table and stuff like that. Could be cute, right?

Then I thought, what about Sesame Street monsters? She does know who Elmo is, so I'm tempted to go with the regular old tried and true toddler theme. She only knows Elmo, though, no other characters, and really only in passing. It isn't like she'll watch him for longer than 2 minutes. She will call his name out when she sees a picture of him, so she does like him. And Elmo themes are really cute and easy with lots of cute games.

Maybe a cupcake theme? The birthday invites could say "our little cupcake is turning two" but where else would I go with that theme? Games? Decorations? I don't feel like I can run with it.

Lastly, her lovey is a mermaid. I could do an under the ocean theme with mermaids, but she totally won't get it and a mermaid party when she's a bigger kid could be super fun so I'd hate to waste it.

So what do you think?

awesomely awesome halloween

2010-11-03T14:39:00.004-04:00

Behold! Some pictures!

This year was a crazy Halloween weekend for us, which was a change from our boring normal life. We ended up having 4 parties in one weekend, one Friday afternoon, one Friday night, one Saturday afternoon, and another Saturday night. Plus a visit with friends on Sunday morning and then a dinner with friends on Sunday evening before trick or treating. Isn't that absurd? I am a definite anti-over-scheduling person, and this weekend was beyond ridiculous for everyone involved. We were all exhausted by the time Sunday night rolled around. Exhausted, but happy, because it was a super fun weekend.

We all dressed up for our family party, and Wonder Woman and the Incredible Hulk have really expanded their family since we last saw them 6 years ago. Gabe was Buzz Lightyear, of course, and Josie (in case you can't tell) was Mr. Potato Head. Her costume was homemade, a fact of which I was inordinately proud. I initially wanted to make her costume, then with all the accidents and Josie's surgery, I finally accepted my own limitations and decided to buy her costume instead. I ordered the cutest little ladybug costume, it arrived last week and I hated it. I tried to make it work, but in the end, I made an emergency run to the fabric store on Friday afternoon and spent naptime sewing it up.

I'm shockingly thrilled with the results, and she got the most compliments of any of the kids around. As we were walking around the neighborhood on Sunday night, several women referred to her as an "adorable little tater tot". I'd have to agree.

And then we have our "angry" pumpkin that magically appeared at our house on Sunday morning. Or at least, that is what Gabe thinks. My right hand begs to differ after it took me 2 hours to carve it. We went to this fabulous pumpkin patch to purchase our pumpkins, but those stinking pumpkins are made of steel. Good lord, they were hard to carve.

Last, but not least, we had a milestone around here. Gabe carved a pumpkin! And loved it! That's my boy!

So now tell me, what did you all do for Halloween?

voting for preschoolers

2010-11-02T22:42:00.003-04:00

Have you guys explained voting to preschoolers? I sat down with Gabe and made a good attempt, but I'm not sure the message got through.

The best I could do was that we get one day to tell our leaders who we'd like to be our leaders (i.e. the people in charge) and how we'd like them to do things. So we go down to the school and write what we want them to know on paper and turn it in (i.e. voting). Then they count everyone's votes and see what we think.

Is there a better explanation? So confusing! When we got to the school, though, he was super bummed when he realized he wasn't going to get to vote, although what the heck did he think he was voting for anyway? I told him he needed to be able to read to vote (we'll deal with the age thing later) and he cracked me up when he said, "Yeah, because I can't read the instructions now. I definitely need to be able to read the instructions."

Thoughts?

11 months to go

2010-11-01T17:33:00.003-04:00

Gabe came downstairs to find a huge pile of Halloween decorations on the living room floor. It takes me a whole day to pull everything from the corners of the house, organize it, and then pack it all up into their orange and black containers (we have a LOT of Halloween decorations). He surveyed the pile and asked what I was doing with everything out, and I told him it was all going away because Halloween was over and wouldn't be back until next year.

"But I want it to stay!" he said sadly, "I love Halloween!"

Me too, buddy. Me too.

happy halloween!

2010-10-31T00:43:00.003-04:00

In a moment of bravery, I took the kids out on Thursday night to a Halloween event at a cute little farm sponsored by the Massachusetts Audubon Society. It was called Tales of the Night, from 6-9pm, and was perfect for kids. We wore costumes, brought flashlights, and wandered around the dark farm on a moonlit night, exploring the different exhibits for kids.

There were owls, spiders, and scorpions on display, along with your typical farm animals like chickens and goats, most of whom were looking at us as if to say, "who are you? Why are you dressed like that? And what are you doing here so late?" The stars were out, the night was warm, and the paths were lined with carved pumpkins and white lights. Besides interesting animals, we saw old Mother Goose plays like the Three Little Pigs and Miss Muffett and Little Bo Peep. The kids LOVED it, and I had a pretty good time too.

There was even a haunted hayride, which I didn't realize was haunted until we were already on and it was too late for us to get off. Thankfully, a continuous pep talk from me kept either Josie or Gabe from freaking out, even as characters dressed in costume jumped out at the tractor and pull. Poor Josie kept looking up at me from my lap and asking, "Eees pretend? Mommy, eees pretend? Eees scary, Mommy!" It was adorable, honestly, even though I was a little worried both kids would be up at night with nightmares.

We had only one moment of worry from Gabe, when we passed one of the haunted scenes, and a girl was trapped in a spider web and a man dressed as a spider circled around her as she screamed for help. I told them over and over that it was just pretend, not real, but Gabe whispered as we passed them, "But Mommy, it's not pretend, it was MOVING." Poor little thing, it took a lot of convincing for him to believe it was a man in a costume.

Luckily, everyone had a great time, no one had any nightmares, and the whole trip was a success. As we were leaving, though, in our final moments at the farm, of course Gabe informed me he had to pee with 30 seconds of anticipation. I ran full speed with him, the stroller and Josie to the bathroom, but just as we opened the door, he said "uh oh" and I turned to see pee spreading across the front of the costume. His non-washable Buzz Lightyear costume. The non-washable WHITE Buzz Lightyear costume we went to multiple different stores to find. Sigh. I wish I could say I had a fabulous parenting moment where I totally kept my cool and didn't freak out or anything, but I'd be lying. I was, for better or worse, really pissed, and ended up yelling most of the way home. Of course, I feel horribly guilty about it now, because logically I know he is only 3, and he hasn't had an accident in months, and he was having such a great time he didn't want to interrupt it by going to the bathroom, but regardless, it was frustrating, and spending the rest of the evening hand-washing his costume and hoping it would survive didn't make things any better.

The costume survived, the night was salvaged, and lesson learned, I will force him to pee when we're doing super fun things, even if he insists he doesn't need to go. The farm was super cute, though, and definitely put us in the mood for more Halloween fun. We've been carving pumpkins, attending costume parties, and of course, tomorrow (or I should say, today) is the big day with tons of candy to be eaten and fun to be had. I'm watching my fill of scary movies, and the kids are eating their body weight in treats.

I'll post costume pictures as soon as possible!

Happy Halloween!

can 22 month olds have attitude problems?

2010-10-27T16:42:00.003-04:00

Um, wow. I guess I shouldn't be surprised to learn that the IRS has determined breast pumps don't fall under a "medical expense," even though acne cream and denture adhesive counts. But I AM surprised. Go ahead, take a few minutes to read the article.

I breastfed my kids for almost 12 months and 18 months, respectively, and it was a huge commitment, both emotionally, time-wise, and financially. A pump, different sized pump pieces, storage bags and more storage bags and more storage bags, not to mention the herbal remedies I purchased to try to increase my supply. I can totally understand why not everyone would want to or be able to breastfeed, because holy smokes, it is very challenging.

I'm shocked, therefore, to find that even though the American Academy of Pediatrics would advise them otherwise, that the IRS wouldn't deem a breast pump worthy of a tax break under the flexible spending plan. I don't think breastfeeding is right for everyone, but I do think it is worth supporting and definitely should be covered as a medical expense. Well, at least my insurance paid for my pump for Josie, and hopefully it'll be covered next time.
_______________________________________________

In other, totally unrelated news, Josie's repeat hearing test was today and 100% normal hearing! YIPPEEEEEE!

I'm not sure about the balance issues, though, for the last few days she's been falling as much as usual, but I'm still keeping fingers crossed. Speaking of breastfeeding, it apparently didn't help my kids with their ear infections, even though it was supposed to.

She's also had a couple of nose bleeds, which the ENT said must be related to her adenoid spot healing. Isn't that kind of odd? Has anyone else experienced this?
_______________________________________________

Thanks for the advice on the leash. I'm hoping this is just a stage and she will eventually start listening, or else it is Baby Boot Camp for her. Well, it is probably Baby Boot Camp for her regardless, because this child is a little pistol. During her hearing test, she was pointedly ignoring the audiology technician when she was asking her to look at the puppet or at the light. Finally, without lifting her head, Josie snarled "NO" when the woman asked if she could hear her.

So positive result on the hearing, negative result on the attitude. I am not looking forward to the teenage years, I'll tell you that.

maybe she'll be an olympic sprinter, hopefully not a thief

2010-10-25T21:08:00.003-04:00

Folks, I have a problem. Well, I guess I have more than one, but let's focus on the one.

Josie is a bolter. She runs. All the time. Everywhere. And she also doesn't stop when you call her.

One would think the obvious solution is to never let her out of the stroller, and I do agree, this is a reasonable solution and one I employ most of the time. There are times, however, when it is inconvenient or difficult to bring a stroller along. She also has learned how to undo straps and slither out of her stroller, no matter how tight we tie the straps. It is a skill we did NOT encourage.

I try to hold her hand all the time too, but given her propensity for dislocating her elbow, I can't hold onto her hand very tightly, and if she makes her body go slack, I have to let go because I'm so scared of another dislocation. This means that we've had a couple of instances where she was able to get me to let go and then took off running, and that little sucker is FAST.

Tonight, we were walking from the library to the car, and I let go of her hand when library books started sliding out of my arms and she began running straight toward the street. I dropped the books and took off after her, screaming her name, while Gabe tried to grab her dress and pull her down (he's used to trying to stop her). I caught her, but she was close to running into the street. And I FREAKED.

I am always firm about the running. I've tried being calm. I've tried positive reinforcement. I've tried yelling. I've tried talking to her. I've even tried spanking out of desperation. None of it works and I'm at a loss for what to do! This is too serious of an issue for me to mess around with. Running away from me in a store is one thing, but in the street?

Any advice? Thoughts? I do realize this post puts me at risk for my favorite commenter coming out to berate me, but whatever. I need the help! Throw all your ideas at me, please!!!

getting into the spirit of things

2010-10-24T19:00:00.006-04:00

Ahhh, look! Another week of no injuries! What a relief to be able to post something happy for a change!

We had a lovely weekend of Halloween parties, dinners with friends and family, and a fun little outing to downtown Boston. We loaded the kids onto the train into the city and walked around Boston Common for an hour or so, before loading the kids up and coming back home. It was short, but perfect for a 3 year old and 1 year old who are thrilled with the excitement of trains and hot chocolate. What could be better?

This week I'm just trying to gear up for my all-time favorite holiday, of course! To tell you the truth, I've never been less excited for Halloween, and I suspect it has to do with the events from the past few months. I have been in a constant state of overwhelmedness since June, I think, and it took me forever to find my excitement for bats and witches and pumpkins, oh my! Finally, FINALLY, though, it is here, and I plan on living it up until Sunday night.

Tonight we're all carving pumpkins, and I have Halloween/Fall activities planned for pretty much every day this week. Gabe is thrilled because he's been asking me if he can start celebrating Halloween, um, YESTERDAY. I've clearly been slacking in my parental duties. I literally just ordered Josie's Halloween costume. Oh, the horror! (I'd actually planned on making her costume, but yesterday I finally threw in the towel and admitted it wasn't going to get done. I'm pushing aside the guilt because really, I am cutting myself some slack)

Plus, you guys, Boston is showing her COLORS right now, and it is stunning. Who wouldn't feel autumn happy and Halloween excited?

Do you see the bride with the red balloons in the background? Adorable! Plus, the kids aren't bad either.

maybe I can pretend it is an ornament

2010-10-22T09:37:00.000-04:00

The Good News: Josie (fingers crossed) has STOPPED FALLING. I know, I know, too soon to tell, but really, the change has been rather dramatic. I've had several people comment on the change because she is really and truly falling far less than she was. She has even managed to correct herself from falling when she does start to teeter. That never happened. Never.

The Bad News: Of course, another injury. At least it wasn't one of the children! I have to take my blessings where I can get them.

_______________________________
On Friday, I took my parents to Salem, Massachusetts so we could experience some of the Halloween/crazy people who love to roam the streets in the witch trial city. It was surprisingly tame for being only a couple of weeks away from Halloween, but regardless, we had a good time.

At one of the kitschy witchcraft shops we browsed through, they happened to be selling something called "witch's balls." Wikipedia has a better description than I can provide, but it was basically a pretty colorful hand-blown glass ball, with strands of glass criss-crossing the inside of the ball. It looked a bit like a spider web inside, and was rather pretty. The description on the display said that witch's balls were traditionally hung in windows and were thought to attract evil spirits with their beauty and those evil spirits would get trapped inside the strands of glass.

Is it terrible that the first thing I thought was, "Oh geez, I need one of these."? I mean, I think we can ALL acknowledge, we have had more than our fair share of bad luck. Things have been a little bit crazy, a little bit frenzied, a tiny bit STRESSFUL, maybe? I do keep reminding myself that although upsetting and annoying, we have (thus far) avoided serious or long-term illness. It could always be worse. We are very very lucky in so many ways.

Anyway, the glass ball cost $20, which I guess wasn't soooo much money, but it was too much for me to be spending on a random strange superstitious probably piece of junk, so I didn't get it. But I lingered over it, and thought about it, and kept wondering- could it hurt? Why not?

I chuckled over it, laughed a bit with my parents, and then dismissed the glass ball as silly and unnecessary. After Sunday, however, I'm thinking a drive back to Salem may be in order. $20 or not, I'm willing to try anything at this point. Josh called me from work today and said he'd done a survey at the office and 100% of his coworkers said GET THE BALL. My girlfriends said ha ha ha, no seriously. GET THE BALL. My parents said, GET THE BALL. So what the hell. I may end up GETTING THE BALL.

I'll let you know how it goes. I'll also be doing some serious research for house/people cleansings. And buying stock in Percocet. Sigh.

keeping the sanity

2010-10-21T10:13:00.000-04:00

Theoretically, if I were thinking about being super pro-active and buying birthday and holiday presents up front, do you have any ideas for the following individuals?

- Four year old boy
- Two year old girl
- Husband who doesn't like anything

I'm thinking maybe Playmobil and Lego stuff for the boy, and doll stuff for the girl? I don't know, she isn't super impressed by dolls yet, to be honest. She likes them fine, but she isn't fawning over them. My gratitude runneth over for your always excellent ideas!

another day, another ER

2010-10-19T22:11:00.002-04:00

Sunday, at his soccer game, Josh dislocated his shoulder.

Yes. Let me give you some time to process that pretty tidbit.

For those of you keeping score, that is 9 traumatic injuries since June. NINE.

I am selling my whole family on Ebay. Clearly, these folks are defective.

recovering

2010-10-12T21:56:00.001-04:00

We survived!

I will admit, however, the whole day was far worse than I'd anticipated. The preparation and actual surgery weren't as bad as I'd thought they would be, although having to hold her down while they put her under was painful and sad. I found myself fighting back tears when I took the elevator back up to the pediatric floor to meet Josh, but the hour passed quickly and before I knew it, the ENT called me from the operating room to let me know the surgery was a success.

I walked down to the recovery floor and encountered a hysterical baby who continued to scream for the next 4 hours without stopping. Worse still, there was another family on the pediatric ENT floor who was prepped at the same time, went down to surgery at the same time, and sat with us in the surgery waiting room while we waited to be called in to the OR. While I was holding my screaming baby, their baby was wheeled into the recovery room, and STOPPED BREATHING. It was a horrific, terrifying few minutes, while the anesthesiologist screamed at all the nurses and they reintubated him and began a whole series of procedures to get him stable again. I stood in my little cubicle with a screaming Josie in my arms and cried as I thought of his parents waiting upstairs. Parents who had no idea what was happening with their baby.

It was one of those moments, you know? Where you realize that your whole life can change in an instant? The crying was awful and heartbreaking, but things could be SO MUCH WORSE. I was wheeled up to the main floor where Gabe was waiting, and I told Josh the story while we watched the parents through the glass in the waiting room. Another 20 minutes passed before a doctor came up in person to talk to them, and they left to go to a private room where I assume their son was admitted. We stayed for another 3 hours and didn't see them again. I've been sending up some prayers today that their son is safe and sound and totally fine tonight.

Josie has been slowly improving throughout the day, although it has been rough. Lots of tears, a bit of blood, a decent amount of coughing, and complaints of pain. She's finally asleep now, and I'm hoping tomorrow will be way better. Regardless, though, my sweet girl is sleeping peacefully upstairs, safe and sound and healthy, and I couldn't ask for more than that. Thanks for all your positive thoughts!

my sweet girl

2010-10-11T21:41:00.002-04:00

I was feeling totally Zen about the surgery tomorrow, until NOW. I'm freaking out a bit and feeling totally anxious and stressed. I think it has quite a bit to do with the fact that I just finished a call with the ENT's pediatric nurse and she gave me all the pre-op instructions and a description of everything that is going to happen.

I know it sounds silly, but as I was rocking her tonight and kissing her forehead, I kept thinking this was her last night with adenoids. Tomorrow she'll be changed for good. Crazy, I know. I've never thought about adenoids before in my life!

I keep telling myself this is all for the better, but right about now, only the reasons NOT to have the surgery are on my mind. Too late to back out now, right?

Sigh. Some positive thoughts and prayers would be much appreciated, pretty please!!!

hopefully, it is the right answer

2010-10-05T11:02:00.003-04:00

Over the past several months, I've posted about our ear infection situation. We've had lots. Maybe 10-15 over the last year, probably close to 20 since Josie was born. The obvious answer would be tubes, but the thing is, her ears seem to clear between infections, so she hasn't seemed to be a great candidate for tubes. We've just been hoping she would outgrow the ear infection situation as her ears mature and the Eustachian tubes change position.

On Wednesday, I had an appointment with an ear, nose and throat doctor because a friend of mine finally pointed out the list of Josie's symptoms that could all point to the same area:

Repeat ear infections
Endless illnesses
Poor weight gain
Severely enlarged tonsils and adenoids (did I mention this?)
Noisy breathing
Loud talking and lots of screaming
Terrible balance (DING DING DING DING)

The doctor looked at my list of symptoms, blinked twice, and asked why we hadn't been referred sooner. Then we did a hearing test, and shock of the century for me, Josie has mild hearing loss. She also tested terribly when it came to fluid in her ears. Apparently her ear drum is totally firm with fluid, even though she hasn't been sick in months.

All of this added up to a scheduled surgery for Tuesday morning to remove her adenoids and put tubes in her ears. I'm not thrilled with this diagnosis, but I do feel relatively peaceful about it. Something has to change. I think we can all agree that the repeat accidents for Josie (the falls, the breaks, the dislocations, the FREAKING stitches), it HAS TO END. The balance situation has to change. None of us can face another winter full of ear infections, pain, crying, and antibiotics. I resisted this as long as I could, and now it is time to face the reality of the situation.

Both Josh and I were shocked and upset by the hearing loss diagnosis, because her speech is so great, we never assumed the ear infections were affecting her hearing. The audiology technician said, however, she never seen a kid with this much hearing loss who didn't have a speech delay. Huh. So who knows what is going on with Josie? Maybe she compensates by yelling, maybe my voice happens to be in the range she hears, maybe she hears as if she is under water? Who knows!

We're pinning a lot of hopes on Tuesday, though. Hopefully we'll have less illnesses, less infections, less screaming, less pain, and please dear G-d, less falls. I'd like for her to stop walking like a drunken sailor, my goodness. It has been almost a full year since she started walking! I'd like to have one afternoon without a near miss accident. I'd also like for her to stop suffering from ear pain and start gaining some weight (she hasn't gained in months).

Now I just have to make it through the actual surgery, which the surgeon said will take about 45 minutes. She'll have to have general anesthesia and be intubated, so I'm a bit anxious, but trying to keep calm about it. She's a tough little girl, so I have no doubt she'll come out of it swinging. Wish us luck, pretty please!

those sedatives she got at the hospital look pretty good

2010-10-05T10:42:00.003-04:00

We have remained injury-free for a whopping 4 days, and I am starting to be able to catch my breath again. My shoulders were so tense, they were almost touching my ears over the weekend.

Thankfully, now my parents are visiting too (first time in 10 months!) so I have another 2 sets of hands and eyes to watch out for injuries. Keeping these two kids safe is a multi-person full-time job. My mom keeps asking me breathlessly, "How do you do this alone?" It doesn't help that Josie NEVER STOPS. Never ever, never.

My daily running commentary goes something like this:

"Josie, get down from that chair."

"Josie, don't climb the desk."

"Josie, stop hanging on the oven handles (or dishwasher handles, or fridge handles)."

"Josie, get out of the toilet."

"Josie, stop running. No, stop running. STOP RUNNING!" (rinse and repeat 10,000 times per day)

"Josie, get off the table. Get out from under the table."

"Josie, leave the front door alone."

"Josie, don't climb out of the stroller/high chair/grocery cart."

Did I tell you we call her Houdini? It doesn't matter how or where or what you tie her into, this girl gets out. She is a master at undoing straps and slithering out of any restraint situation. A MASTER.

Just yesterday, she was safely strapped into a restaurant high chair, and my mom had the nerve to say to me, "Oh, she definitely can't get out of this one." Not 5 minutes later, Josie says, "Mommy, look at me!" and she had slid out of the restraints, hoisted herself out of her seat, and was holding herself up over the seat (kind of like a gymnast on the saddlehorse thing) and dangling her body in mid-air.

The thing is, she does all of this in seconds, so if you divert your gaze from her for even a moment, like perhaps when you turn to Gabe to ask him to finish eating his quesadilla, that is long enough for her to climb out of her seat and perform circus tricks.

It is a real gift.

I am really and truly considering getting some kind of harness for her to tie around my wrist, and only the worry that people will think I'm some kind of child abuser keeps me from purchasing it. I'm wondering, though, what if I put a sign on her that says:

One broken wrist.
Two dislocated elbows.
Stitches between my eyes.
My harness keeps me safe and my parents sane.

Or something like that, will people still judge me? I wouldn't change her for the world, but I'm hoping her balance improves as time goes on. I'm also hoping she develops a healthy fear of falling, and SOON.

if he says "sh*t," then I'll take responsibility, but this time it wasn't me

2010-10-03T23:33:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure where Gabe heard it, but we've had some episodes of him saying the word "stupid". It has been a totally incorrect usage, although one time he did call his sister a "stupid dog," but he said it in an affectionate tone. Almost as if he thought it was a term of endearment. Anyway, regardless of the usage, I've made it clear that it isn't a nice word, and is totally unacceptable.

Last night, we were getting ready for bed and he was playing with some little figurines, and one of the men referred to his toothbrush (I know, random) as stupid.

Me: What did you say?

Gabe: I didn't say it, the man did.

Me: Did you say stupid?

Gabe: The man said it, not me.

Me: Remember when we talked about how stupid isn't a nice word and we don't say it?

Gabe: (exasperated) I told you, it was the man.

Me: Well, the man is going to have to go away for a while if I hear that again. We don't say stupid, it isn't nice. It isn't a word we use.

Gabe: I'll talk to the man about it. I'll let you know what he says.

I may never leave the house again

2010-09-30T22:32:00.002-04:00

In another plot twist entitled OF COURSE THIS HAPPENED TO US... we spent another whole entire day in the EMERGENCY ROOM.

We stopped by a Gymboree store for the start of one of their sales, and Josie kept running away from me in the store. I told her to stop several times and finally said I was going to strap her into the stroller, so she ran behind the counter, tripped, and fell straight into the corner of an open drawer.

The extraordinarily sharp, razor edged, metal corner of the open drawer.

RIGHT BETWEEN HER EYES. On the bridge of her nose.

I heard the employee say, "Oh she fell!" and I heard Josie start crying. And then I heard another woman say, "Oh God, her face!" and my heart sank, and then my friend turned to me and said, "She definitely needs stitches."

By the time I made it around the counter, blood was pouring down her face. Everyone started handing me towels and tissues and bandages, but one look at her nose and I knew we needed an emergency room. It was disgusting. A huge open gash, indented in the center and then several cuts radiating outward with blood pouring down her face. And possibly a broken nose, from the site of impact.

I thought I might throw up for a minute, as blood dripped through my hands and down her shirt, and then I pulled it together, asked the woman to remove everything from my stroller where I'd been piling possible outfits, and rushed out the door.

Josh gave me directions to the closest hospital since we'd met a friend at a faraway mall, and I sobbed the whole way, and tried not to freak out as Gabe offered helpful narration from the backseat about how Josie was touching the gash and rubbing blood all over her face.

By the time I went to pull her out of the car seat, her face and hands were covered in blood, which in retrospect, got us checked into the ER rather quickly. Josh was on his way, so I fielded the initial check-in, and before we'd even been examined, he arrived to help with Gabe. I demanded that plastic surgery be paged, because this was a serious cut. In face, it was many different cuts, and right smack in the middle of her face.

The nurse was rather rude initially, even though I asked VERY nicely, and it was more of a suggestion really. He said it would be up to plastics whether they would come or not, and they might not think it was "worth it" to come down, and they might not respond to the pages, and it would be up to them. Josh and I said we'd really feel much better if they'd at least look at the cut, and he was super dismissive and insistent that they might or might not come. When Josh finally got a little annoyed and said that plastics refusing to come to even look at her face was unacceptable, the nurse just stood up and walked out before repeating again that it was up to them. Umm, okay? The resident and his attending agreed with us, though, thankfully, and agreed to page plastics since "we don't like to mess around with cuts like that."

Plastics, however, didn't answer the first FOUR pages from the ER, which oh my goodness! Are you really allowed to do that? In the meantime, Josie wasn't allowed to eat or drink. The poor thing was exhausted since we were missing her nap, and after 4+ hours waiting, I finally turned off all the lights and rocked her to sleep. Of course, 15 minutes after she'd fallen asleep, the nurse arrived to put in her iv. 10 minutes later, plastics FINALLY arrived- hurray! And said they were going to sedate her to put in the stitches.

From then on out, things went smoothly. Plastics was great, the attending had a baby girl about the same age and knew exactly how to talk to Josie. I was allowed to stay until they put her under, while Josh and Gabe waited in the waiting room, and 20 minutes later, we were done. The sedation wasn't bad at all, although seeing her go under, with her eyes looking all twitchy and strange, and then her coming out of it and acting totally drunk, was uncomfortable and not exactly something you love to see as a parent. The actual process, however, was not as terrible as I'd anticipated and she seemed most bothered by the blood pressure cuff, and then later, by the removal of the tape and heart monitors.

Another couple of hours later, and we were finally dismissed, 7+ hours after we'd arrived. It was a long, awful, no good, horrible day, and I suspect that tomorrow I will collapse into a sobbing disastrous heap. So many emotions are competing for space- relief, horror, sadness, gratitude, anger, where to even begin.

Tonight, though, I will be thankful for my safe, sleeping children in their beds. Tomorrow I will worry about scars and follow-up visits, and how the heck I'm going to keep her from touching the stitches. Tonight I'll just be grateful for those tiny stitches and nothing more. And I'll be closing all our open drawers. And buying some bubble wrap.

I wonder who McSteamy is

2010-09-29T11:30:00.000-04:00

A coworker of Josh's heard some women in the bathroom referring to Josh as "McDreamy".

Now, on the one hand, of course I'm flattered on his behalf. I too think my husband is hot.

On the other hand, shouldn't I be somewhat alarmed? Do I need to spend a little more time visiting his office?

done. through. finished.

2010-09-27T23:54:00.000-04:00

What was I saying about feeling relaxed and refreshed and Zen and all that? Apparently, I needed it, because Josie dislocated her OTHER ELBOW tonight.

I took the kids to the mall with a friend tonight to get out of the rain and let them run around a bit. All 4 kids (both of mine and both of my friend's) were acting crazy. Really batshit nuts and running all over the place and yelling and tickling each other and acting generally hyper. We asked them to calm down several times and threatened a bit and took away privileges, but something was in the air, so finally we packed them all up and left.

In the car, I lectured Gabe for a few minutes about appropriate behavior and why he was losing his Buzz Lightyear toy for the rest of the night and why he wouldn't be allowed to read any books, and blah blah blah. He acted all apologetic and understanding, so I decided I could risk a quick stop at the Container Store for some drawer organizers. It would be 5 minutes, I reasoned. It'd be okay.

Everything seemed fine, and I spent a few minutes picking out the drawer organizers, while Josie and Gabe chatted and laughed. Josie was strapped into the cart and Gabe was standing next to her. All of a sudden, Josie began shrieking in a bloodcurdling manner, and I looked up to see Gabe let go of her arm from the other side of the cart where he'd been pulling on it. She cradled her elbow in her other arm as the tears began pouring down her cheeks and she screamed, "Gabe broke arm! Gabe broke arm!"

I stood there, stunned, and literally seeing red. I was SO mad, I was actually afraid of what I might do in that moment. I just couldn't believe it. I threw what I had in my hands into the cart, while Josie continued to scream, "Gabe broke arm!" and in a moment of what I assume was shock, I PAID FOR THE STUFF (which seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?) and then walked out. As I was walking, I called the pediatrician and left a frantic message asking whether there was anyone still in the office (it was evening, by this time) or whether we should go to the emergency room. Then I called Josh and told him to meet me at the hospital. I spent a horrid few minutes slowing inching Josie into her car seat while she screamed, and then I strapped Gabe into his seat and then screamed at him like a crazy person as I started driving to the hospital.

It was not my finest parenting moment.

A few minutes later, my savior of a pediatrician called back and told me to bring her to his house. Did you read that correctly? He told me to bring her to his house so we wouldn't have to go to the hospital. He gave me directions, and 15 minutes later we were there, and 15 seconds after that, her elbow was fixed. She didn't even cry after that, although she repeated approximately 87 times, "Gabe broke arm! Sorry Josie. Eees okay. Gabe broke arm."

Sigh.

So much for feeling ready to take on the world. I may be booking another trip to Myrtle Beach for next weekend. Right after I wrap both kids in bubble wrap.

the zombie look is totally in

2010-09-27T14:26:00.003-04:00

In a moment of pure and glorious selfishness, I decided to attend a dear friend's wedding this weekend ALONE. Totally and utterly alone, as in sans husband and children.

It was... well... FABULOUS.

The wedding was in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and I left on Thursday afternoon and returned Sunday morning. Josh's mom was kind enough to come out on Wednesday to watch the kids while Josh worked, and then he took over on Friday night and Saturday until my return on Sunday morning.

My outrageously fun law school girlfriends were there, and we had the best time. I haven't laughed that hard or that often since our ridiculously crazy girlfriend's bachelorette party in April in Vegas. Remember? The crazy bride who made me take seductive dance classes?

We did an impromptu bachelorette party on Thursday night with hibachi, a karaoke bar, a piano bar, and a dance club, and stayed out until 3am. On Friday, we had a small shower and bridal lunch, then I spent most of the day sitting by the pool overlooking the ocean, reading a book and drinking pina coladas. I know, I hate me too. We followed up with dinner, miniature golf, and then another crazy night at the Myrtle Beach dance clubs until 4:30am. That same ridiculously crazy friend from above (T), did her signature seductive dance moves up on a platform at the club, and ensured that I was LITERALLY beating all the guys off of us with a stick. I flashed my ring and told guys I was married so many times, I actually scolded her and told her to stop attracting so much attention to us.

When we returned to the hotel at 4:30am, we learned the hotel had given away our room reservation (insanity, I know), so after using our combined legal expertise, T finagled a free upgrade to a 2 bedroom suite, with a living room, kitchen, dining room, laundry room, a gigantic terrace, and even a doorbell! It was so huge, our other friends went ahead and canceled their own reservations and moved in for Saturday night.

After waking up at NOON on Saturday, we ate pancakes at a local greasy diner and then took a swim in the ocean. The water was gorgeous and warm and the sand was soft and the company was lovely. We pulled ourselves away from the beach with no time to spare to get dressed and attend our friend's wedding. It was intimate and fun and I've never seen her look happier, and we danced until we were beyond sweaty, and then I stole every last sea star and sand dollar from the decorations and brought them home with me.

The rest of the night was spent down at the tiki bar, laughing, enjoying beachy drinks, and ordering pizzas. We finally retired to our room, where we decided to stay up for the rest of the night (yes, I'm still yawning), until it was time to drive me to the airport for my 6:30am flight. We sat out on the giant terrace and talked, and talked, and TALKED about anything and everything until it was time to go. We definitely soaked up every last bit of friendship during the time we had. It was amazing.

I was, however, totally fried all day yesterday. I basically stumbled through the airports in Myrtle Beach, Washington D.C. and Boston. I fell asleep before the plane took off and woke up when it landed, and could barely stay awake during layovers. Josh and the kids were sweetly excited to see me and had planned out a fun breakfast, and I barely kept my eyes open while eating before collapsing at home for a multi-hour nap.

It is great to be home, and I did miss Josh and the kids, but man, it was so nice to get away and worry about only myself for 3 whole days. I feel so peaceful and happy and relaxed, and ready to get back to my regular life. And best of all, I feel like me. Fun, and funny, and energetic, and interesting, and refreshed. I spent 3+ years never leaving Josh or the kids, and finally taking a little bit of time for myself feels really great. And thank goodness, being home feels even better. And best of all, this weekend, my parents come to visit for the first time in 10 months! Now I just need to recover enough to finish all these house projects before they arrive!

josielicious

2010-09-23T00:48:00.002-04:00

Josie gets a bit of the shaft around here these days. It is just that three and a half year olds are very demanding, it turns out, and so her delicious adorableness gets undocumented. That is unacceptable, though, because she is really and truly deliciously adorable and I want to remember these times for always.

Here are the top ten ways Josie is ridiculously cute:

1. Josie is a beautiful sleeper. An AMAZING sleeper. She takes (at least) one two hour nap per day, and sleeps an average of 12 hours a night without a peep. We go into her room with a sippy cup of milk, sit in her rocker while she drinks her milk and I sing her 3 songs. I tell her I love her and her daddy loves her and her Gabe loves her and God loves her and then I tuck her under my chin and breathe in the scent of her sweet baby smell. After a couple of minutes, she'll give some indication she's ready for bed- maybe a little restlessness, maybe a kiss for me, maybe a tiny little "bye bye Mommy" and she's off to bed. I tuck her in with all her "babies" and she bids me goodbye as I walk out. As I'm leaning over to pull the blankets over her, she'll say, "ah yub you" before I go, and it melts my heart every time.

2. Josie talks. Oh, this girl can TALK. Sentences, vocabulary, actual conversations, it is absurd the quantity of talking we are doing for 21 months. The other day I asked her why she'd taken off her shoes in the car and she said "ummm, because I no wanna." (she didn't want to wear them, I assume.) She narrates everything for me, "Gabe no no, Gabe crying, Gabe time-out." or "Mommy take a showah?" or "ah (I) want some yum yum." Yesterday as friends were walking up the sidewalk she yelled, "Hi Jane! Hi Steven! Come on!" She is all "please" and "thank yous" and "here you gos" and "ah help yous" and other general cuteness. The language explosion seems to have helped with some of the screaming, too. Instead of generally screaming at me, she'll scream "please please please more Mommy please please more" which is, um, an improvement I guess.

3. Josie's smiles. She is BIG personality. Big loud, big grumpy, big thrilled, and big happy. When Josie is pleased, though, she is really really pleased. She smiles up a storm. She is chatty and funny and charming and sweet and people tell us how adorable she is. She has two big dimples and they are stinking adorable.

4. Josie's hair. She has this totally crazy curly hair that is straight(ish) on top but then flips up into curls on the ends, and it makes her look like one of those old-fashioned Kewpie dolls. I swear her hair must be growing, but the more it grows, the more it curls, and it ends up looking like it is the same length. I'm a little bit at a loss for what to do with curly hair since mine is so straight, but there is no denying this crazy hair fits with her personality and adds to her cuteness.

5. Josie's snuggliness. She is a big cuddle bug and will come over to sit on my lap or fling herself across my body or wrap her arms around my neck. She'll press her cheek up against my cheek and then sigh, as if all she needs in life is this moment. She'll grab Josh's chin and turn his face from side to side as she plants tiny kisses on each of his cheeks with an audible little smack and then smiles shyly, because she is so proud of herself. She wraps her little arms around people's legs to give them little hugs and she calls out a "buh-bye, see you later" as we leave. She hugs Gabe constantly and tells us all she loves us often.

6. Josie's independence. I wouldn't think that such independence would come along with such snuggliness, but it does. She is crazy independent, much like her brother, and I have to watch the two of them like a hawk because at any moment one of them will wander off. I can walk into a room full of people she has never met, and she will say hello to everyone and then walk over to start playing with other kids. I joke that all I ever wanted was one shy timid child and I got the absolute opposite, but I couldn't imagine it any other way. She is fierce and brave and ready to take on the world (or as much of the world as 21 month olds can take on).

7. Josie is eating! This is a huge milestone for us since this child was 10 times pickier than her brother, but lo and behold, about 2 months ago, she started eating. Now she'll eat everything, and with gusto and lots of "mmm, yum". It is fantastic, and all of a sudden she will try Thai food and Indian food and asks for bites of everything and wants to taste everything we are eating and is furious if you say no or try to tell her it isn't baby appropriate. Finally, a great eater! And right in time for the toddler pickiness, so we'll see how it goes.

8. Josie is super clumsy. this is both cute and a curse, I guess. She is all go-go-go all the time, always speeding along to the next thing, so she falls a lot. She stumbles a decent amount, trips quite a bit, and still walks like a drunken sailor, even though she's been walking for ALMOST A FREAKING YEAR! Still, although I'm a nervous wreck, the bruises are kind of cute. The clumsiness is also pretty cute.

9. Josie is enthusiastic. About EVERYTHING. She loves to do everything, go everywhere (except be in the car, of course), meet everyone. She will sit in a high chair in a restaurant and wave at every single person walking by and yell "hello! hi! hello! how are you?" She runs full tilt everywhere, leaning slightly forward as she runs down the sidewalk, eager to get wherever she thinks she is going. She answers almost every question with a big "yeah!" regardless of the question. It is pretty fun.

10. Josie just IS adorable. It is beyond words, I think, just something intrinsic in her Josieness- or Jo-Jo-ness, which is her favorite nickname for herself. I don't know exactly how to put into words how cute she is, how funny she is, how brave and interesting and scrumptious she is every single day. If I could, I'd bottle up a little bit of her to spread around.

the beach! the shops! the food!

2010-09-05T22:41:00.004-04:00

Yippee! Yippee! Yippee!

We're off to Nantucket for one glorious night!

I'm so excited, I could scream! But I won't, because the kids are sleeping and that won't help our early morning departure.

It's a long story, but I started pricing out all these different day trips, and we decided on Nantucket for the day. The fast ferry to Nantucket, though, is twice as expensive as the slow ferry, and for the price difference, we could basically pay for almost a whole night of a hotel! (cheap hotel prices thanks to a weekday arrival, and the not-really-a Hurricane Earl) Plus, leaving and coming in one day was turning out to be super stressful, and this will make for a much more relaxing couple of days.

Who cares the reason? I'm thrilled! And now I'm off to frantically pack for our quick little getaway! Hurray!

I hate the word staycation

2010-09-02T23:40:00.003-04:00

Hypothetically speaking...

If you had no extra money, and your husband was taking the week off from work, and you had NO extra money, what would you do?

Would you try to scrape something together and take the kids away for one night somewhere fun? Or would you do day trips? Would you go to the beach? A pool? Miniature golfing? Thoughts?

Also, Gabe starts school on Wednesday of this hypothetical week, so we have intro classes on Wednesday and Friday for an hour and a half.

Ideas? Bonus if you have New England specific ideas! Double bonus if they are toddler and preschooler appropriate! (can you believe Gabe is almost a preschooler?)

***********************

I read each and every comment, of course, and I always take your comments to heart, even if I don't necessarily agree with them. When one anonymous commenter told me the situation with Tango and Murray was all my fault, I was initially hurt and then reconsidered and thought, "well, yes, probably." But whether it was my fault or not, the dogs were now stuck in this unhappy situation with crazy children and we had to come up with a solution.

But. But. But. The comments to this post made me laugh out loud! Disgraceful! I've been walking around the house exclaiming "disgraceful!" in a Southern accent and then cackling gleefully! I love it!

It's a good thing my anonymous commenter doesn't live here and hasn't met the many, many, MANY moms in my neighborhood who have a full-time nanny while they are full-time stay at home moms! GASP! Some of them only have one child! And have help! Holy smokes! I refuse to believe that pinching pennies to send my child to a top-notch preschool that happens to be a grand total of 15 hours a week is disgraceful.

Hee! Disgraceful, indeed!

I'm going to miss the little bugger

2010-09-01T23:49:00.003-04:00

Gabe starts preschool next Wednesday (SOB), which deserves a post unto itself, but there's been a lot of questions from moms around my neighborhood about what activities Gabe will be participating in this Fall. Now, Gabe's preschool is (unfortunately, in my opinion) five days a week. I would have been thrilled with 3 or even 4 days a week, but the school only offers a 5 day a week option, and the school is amazing, so we're going to do it. Given the fact that we're going from no days a week of school since March (!!!), I'm slightly worried about the transition to 5 days a week.

On the one hand, I think he'll be fine, because Gabe always surprises me. He's more ready for life changes than I ever am. On the other hand, I think he is going to be Exhausted, with a capital E. I suspect we are going to have a resurgence of nap love and perhaps some grumpy days.

All of this led me to the decision that we aren't signing up for any additional activities because honestly, isn't 5 days of school sufficient? He is still only 3, for goodness sake! My thoughts on this, however, are clearly unpopular with several of my friends. Today one of these girlfriends told me her son is taking 3 classes in addition to his preschool- soccer, swimming, and t-ball. Another friend is putting her son in an activity every single afternoon, in addition to 5 days of school!

Is it me or does this sound insane to you? I get tired just thinking about doing this much driving.

I am considering maybe signing up for one class, after I see that Gabe is firmly and comfortably settled into the school schedule. I'm thinking perhaps by October, if I see that he is ready or interested in something else, then we'll look into one class. ONE CLASS. Not 3 or 5 or 7.

Now, if I thought my friends were horrified when I mentioned that we weren't signing him up for any classes, you should have heard what they said when I told them what classes Josh and I were considering for Gabe. Dance. Not just any dance, but a series of different dance classes that includes ballet. GASP! Yes, I was told today that ballet is inappropriate for boys. And that they'd never put their son in any dance classes, and even if they wanted to, their husbands would forbid it. In fact, I may actually "make him gay".

Hee! I'm still chuckling over that one.

I'm less worried about Gabe taking ballet than I am with the fact that Josie is OBSESSED with Rod Stewart. Obsessed. Every time she hears a Rod Stewart song she proclaims from the back seat, "I yike dis song!" This is her absolute favorite song, oddly appropriate, I thought.

So what do you think? Yay or nay on the ballet front?

someone please send some workmen over

2010-08-22T22:54:00.003-04:00

Things have got to change around here.

I love doing projects, don't get me wrong. I love the planning, and prepping, the doing, and especially, OH ESPECIALLY, the completion.

But I'm feeling like the projects are overtaking my life. I don't even mean the painting of rooms, although by gosh, I've been doing a lot of room painting lately. It is more the fact that I let those projects, big or small, get in the way of my treasuring every day with my children.

Since May of a year ago when we decided to sell our house, I spent that May and June prepping the house for sale and finishing the basement, then keeping the house neat and clean and organized for all of July and August and September (which nearly pushed me over the edge), and then the house hunting for September and October, and then the packing for October and November, and then the illnesses and unpacking and projects for December and January and February and March and April (and holy smokes, can you believe we haven't had an ear infection since APRIL?) and then the injuries this summer and the projects I've been working on, I have been letting life pass me by.

I adore my children, and I have no doubt that they know it. I shower them with hugs and kisses and take them to museums and zoos and parks and schedule playdates and all of that, but I think I'm missing the little things. I'm not sitting with them and watching them push the cars around. Or sitting at the table to color with them. Or relaxing on the bedroom floor while I hear the many, many, MANY details about Buzz Lightyear's life story (what did we do before Buzz Lightyear, I'd like to know).

I'm not soaking every moment in because I'm folding laundry and worrying about the paint colors or whether we should tile the basement floor or carpet it or staring around at the mess and thinking about who is stopping by later today. I have to stop. I don't want to look back on my Gabe and Josie's babyhoods and toddlerhoods and feel like I missed them. I don't want to look around at a beautiful and put together house, but then realize I didn't notice them getting so big.

Who needs a nice pretty clean house if you're missing out on life?

how 'bout actual "face-time" instead?

2010-08-22T22:40:00.004-04:00

Am I the only one who is sick of Facebook?

I seem to have a different opinion of what the purpose of Facebook is than several of the people with whom I'm "friends", and that opinion is that it isn't your platform for spewing your hatred or bigotry or close-minded political thoughts. And when I voiced that opinion, it is apparently me who is intolerant and ignorant.

I guess I thought Facebook was for, oh, I don't know, keeping in touch with friends? Not for condemning other religions, or posting your long-winded Bible thumping prayers**, or being generally nasty to anyone who disagrees with your opinions.

Ugh, alright I'm stopping now before I start being the offending person to all my readers. I don't know, I'm just not into it anymore, and I'm finding that I don't care about reading the reports from those supposed "long lost friends" who aren't really my friends, and I'm annoyed when I have to read reports from my in-town friends on Facebook rather than hear about them in real life.

Of course Facebook has its benefits, I guess I'm just grumpy and can't see those benefits right now. Grrr.

_____________________________
**Edited to add:

There are Biblical quotes, and then there are "Bible-thumping quotes". I consider those to be verses from the Bible that are very condemning of other religions or sexual orientations or the like. I think you know what I mean. Those are the Biblical quotes that bother me.

alert alert alert

2010-08-18T07:15:00.000-04:00

They MAY be some movement on the whole third child front. We MAY have some compromise on the horizon, and there MAY be some swaying of the husband to allow us to wait a little bit longer than RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

Do you see me doing a little happy dance on my kitchen floor? Oh wait, I'm stepping over a tantruming Josie and a pile of cars. Here I go again, more dancing.

I think the whole endless-injured-children-amputatedfingers-brokenwrists-loosenedteeth-dislocatedwrists-burntwithcoffee may be talking some sense into Josh. I'm not going to lie, though I'm thrilled to have a bit of breathing room, I'm a little sad too. I was getting excited about the idea about trying for another baby, being pregnant again (although not the whole vomiting nonstop for 26 weeks thing), and then that whole squishy delicious baby thing. I was especially looking forward to that baby thing.

But this isn't a no, this is just a postponement. Hopefully this won't come back to bite us in the tushies!

coffee is a weapon apparently

2010-08-15T22:05:00.003-04:00

I feel like a broken record these days, and honestly, if I were hearing all of this from someone else, I'd swear they must be making it up. Alas, I wish I were making this up, but it's all true. We seem to have been hit with the unlucky stick this summer. Another round of stories, though, and I swear you don't want to miss these.

So last week, as I mentioned, I took the kids to a local farm to pick up our share of vegetables from our CSA and pick some flowers. I was trying to keep them both corralled as we walked through the fields and Josie was acting like a total maniac, flinging her body against the plants and running through the fields rather than around them. I tried to verbally correct her a few times, but it wasn't working, so I made her walk next to me and hold my hand. A few steps into our hand-holding, Josie tripped or threw herself down or something of the sort, and I heard a popping sound in her wrist. She started whimpering and saying, "boo boo, boo boo" and stopped using her arm, exactly the same way she'd behaved when she broke her wrist. And then I promptly freaked out.

I called Josh and asked him to meet me at the ER, called the pediatrician to let them know what was happening, and then sobbed the whole way to my friend's house to drop Gabe off with her. Josie was whimpering in the car as we drove, and I cried along with her as I envisioned another cast, another long few weeks of plastic bags and worry, not to mention my concern that they were going to call Child Protective Services on me for the string of accidents. We made it to Children's Hospital quickly, got tucked into a room swiftly, and after talking with the nurse and a pediatric orthopedist, we agreed her wrist was probably broken again. The doctor decided to examine her arm before we took her back to get x-rays, and as he lifted her arm, he heard a pop and thought it possible that her elbow had been dislocated (nursemaid's elbow) rather than a break. They left us for a few minutes to see how she acted and within 2 minutes she was good as new, climbing the walls of the hospital room and singing her smooshed up version of the ABCs.

Another quick exam, and we were sent on our way with a clean bill of health, and an admonition not to hold her hand anymore because once an elbow dislocates, it is likely to dislocate again. Turns out after talking to Josh's parents, it happened to Josh TWICE when he was a baby.

You'd think that was enough for one week, right? RIGHT? Well, not in my world, apparently.

Friday morning, we head into Josh's work to have lunch with him, and he asks if we can grab coffee at a certain large chain coffee shop- hmm, let's say it rhymes with "farm trucks". I ordered a decaf iced coffee, and after waiting for several minutes, was handed a drink, which I tasted and discovered to be something besides a decaf iced coffee. I went up to the counter to ask the barista why it tasted so strange, and she said they didn't have iced decaf coffee so she'd made me something else. Umm, okay. I asked for a regular iced coffee, and although she said she'd make it for me, she seemed super annoyed at my request and then made me wait while she made several people's drinks ahead of mine. I was standing at the counter for about 10 minutes waiting for my drink with Gabe at my side and in the meantime, she began to argue with a coworker who was standing outside the drink area and became visibly flustered. She even left the drink bar and went to the back for a couple of minutes.

Anyway, she came back and finished two drinks, and then (seeming very annoyed) slammed a grande hot drink down on the counter. Can you see where this is going yet? She put it down so hard, the top popped off and the drink exploded across the counter, pouring scalding hot coffee onto Gabe. I screamed as the coffee poured all over him, and Gabe started screaming this horrible high-pitched shriek as the coffee hit his skin. I had just a second to react, so I grabbed him to pull him into the bathroom and as I touched him, realized how hot the coffee actually was, so I tore his shirt off of him and ran to the bathroom to pour cold water all over him.

Long, long, LONG story short, Gabe ended up being fine after the cold water and lots of burn cream and ibuprofen, although his chest and arms were red and inflamed for hours. The barista never apologized, the manager was apologetic but ultimately unhelpful, and after spending 20 minutes sitting in the store making sure Gabe was okay, she handed us her business card and two free drink coupons and said, "Please don't hate us. Come again soon!" Oh, and she claimed they didn't have accident reports and wouldn't let us fill anything out, although Josh insisted and we ended up writing it all up on a plain sheet of white paper.

I do understand that accidents happen, of course, but given the way the barista was acting, I don't think this was an accident. I would have loved to tear her to shreds, but I was so focused on Gabe, I couldn't find the energy to focus on her. Thankfully, Gabe is fine, but I spent most of Friday with shaking hands and feeling like I was on the verge of a panic attack because I couldn't stop envisioning how awful it could have been. If I hadn't torn his shirt off of him, if he'd been younger, if the coffee had been just a little bit hotter. It is enough to keep you up at night.

That's it. Another couple of shitty incidents to put behind us, and another wish that this is really the end of the bad luck. I am not joking when I say I am really really REALLY going to look into some kind of cleansing ritual for the kids, because this is getting ridiculous. I find myself walking around and waiting for the next shoe to drop, because this is a never-ending cycle. My one saving grace is that for most of the accidents (except for this most recent elbow dislocation) I haven't even been there when my kids have been hurt, so I'm spared the worst part of the guilty conscience. The worry is still there, but at least my guilt is kept to a (somewhat) minimum.

If you have some ideas for fending off bad mojo, please send them my way, because we can use all the help we can get!

enough is enough

2010-08-05T21:42:00.003-04:00

Dear Universe,

I don't want to be disrespectful or anything, but WHAT THE FUCK? Gabe partially amputating his finger and requiring emergency surgery was one thing, then Josie falling and breaking her wrist was another, then Gabe fell and bashed his mouth on the floor and loosened his teeth, but did Josie REALLY have to dislocate her elbow today? Really? Was that honestly necessary?

I thank you for sparing us another cast for the next few weeks, which was what I sobbed about on the way to the Children's Hospital emergency room, but I could use a break from all the injuries. I think I've had my fill for a few years, maybe even enough for the rest of Gabe and Josie's childhoods.

If you're trying to send me a message about the whole having a third child thing, which is how I'm interpreting this, maybe you could send a telegram? I'm definitely getting the hint.

Respectfully Yours,
Halloweenlover

answers answers and more answers

2010-08-04T16:12:00.002-04:00

I promised you some answers, and you all were pretty tame in your questions, so here we go...

A couple of weeks ago, One Tired Ema asked why the third child has to be right this minute. Ahhh, One Tired Ema, that is an excellent question indeed. I ask myself that very question pretty much EVERY SINGLE DAY. Alas, Josh is adamant that if we are having a third child, it needs to be now. His sister is 4 years older than he is, and I suspect that may have something to do with it, because she and he have always been in dramatically different places in life, so although they get along well and love each other and all that, there hasn't been much "sharing of experiences". Josh's other reason, is that he doesn't love the knee deep baby/toddler stage of diapers and sleeplessness and never-ending demands, so he'd like to lump them together rather than make them last even longer. Regardless, I tend to be of the mindset that parenting is hard. Different hard at different stages, but I don't think it gets much easier so more spacing seems better to me. My original intention was for Josie and Gabe to be farther apart in age than they actually are, and we all know how that turned out.

I'm also desperately hoping not to have another winter baby, because two December birthdays in the thick of flu season are really enough for me. A pregnancy in the near future brings us into the late Spring/early Summer bracket and I'd be thrilled with that, although ideally I'd love a little more time. I've begged and pleaded and cajoled, and he really really really doesn't want to wait any longer. It is annoying, and frustrating, and we've talked this to death, but in the end, I really really really do want a third child, and I'll be thrilled with another baby, close together or not. I'm putting the spacing out of my mind, and hoping we don't have trouble getting pregnant. The first two were quick and easy, but I've learned from my many reads in the blogosphere, that is no guarantee for subsequent pregnancies. So wish me luck. And have no fear, I'll share as soon as I know anything.

Kai asked, what is one thing you wish you had done before you had kids that you didn't get the chance to do? This is a hard question, Kai, because I feel like we waited a good amount of time before we had kids (5 years of marriage, 8 and a half years of dating). I guess the easy answer would be to have traveled more, although we've traveled together a ton (25 countries is our latest count, I think). There are many, many places I wish we'd visited, though, like Egypt and Africa and Indonesia and India, and many other places that aren't particularly child appropriate. We also had more disposable income prior to having kids, so although we are totally willing to travel with kids, we just don't have the money right now. Most of our travels are to visit the grandparents, and those are purchased with mileage from Josh's work travel. The harder answer, if I was really pressed, is that I wish I'd found my life's calling work wise, before we had kids. The thing is, I enjoyed working at a law firm up until I got pregnant, so I didn't feel pressure to find something else. Once I got pregnant and then had Gabe, law firm life (or at least the law firms I've worked in) were totally incompatible with my vision of myself as a mother. A fulfilling career would have been nice, and there are many moments where I wish I'd found it before I got pregnant. I have big plans, though, and I think (hope) I still have plenty of time to figure things out.

Stacydh asked, what is your ultimate fantasy? Oh, Stacy, my ultimate fantasy is to move to Paris permanently, or at least for a few years. I worked in Paris in law school for 2 months, and seriously, SERIOUSLY, I loved it. Adored it. Wanted to kiss the ground every single day. I can amend my fantasy, though, to say that I'd be willing to live in a variety of places for a few years with Josh and the kids. Josh and I talk about it all the time, and whether it would really be feasible to save our pennies and for Josh to quit his job and move somewhere like Buenos Aires or Madrid or Rome for a few years with the kids. His job gives us the option of moving to Germany for a few months, and if that works out, for two years, and I am super on board with that move. The hitch in that plan (besides the whole leaving our friends and family and being horribly lonely) is the kids. We love our new neighborhood and the school district and as the kids get older, it gets harder and harder. We were actually supposed to be in Germany right now, from last January until this August, but it didn't work out for a variety of reasons. Anyway, I'd love to live somewhere different and fun and exciting for a good length of time. Not that exciting of a fantasy, I guess.

Chatty Cricket makes me laugh because she asks, how do you keep your hair so shiny? Funny you should ask, because lately I have felt that my hair is very dry and brittle and not shiny, and I attributed it to weaning Josie. I don't know why I think that is giving me all these hair problems, but maybe something to do with fluctuating hormones or something of the sort? Anyway, when I'm not having dry and brittle hair, I will wash my hair and condition with any old shampoo and conditioner (store brands mostly) and at the very last minute, as I'm climbing out of the shower, I rinse with freezing cold water. Then I use Alterna Hemp Straightening Balm on my towel dried hair, and let it air dry. Once it is totally dry, I'll make an assessment of how much frizz we are looking at- if it is quite a bit, I'll heat up the trusty old flat iron and do a 30 second flat ironing of just the top layer of my hair. Literally, 30 seconds, just enough to smooth it out. I adore my flat iron and will be forever grateful to my sister in law for introducing us. If it isn't too frizzy, then I do a tiny bit of Macadamia Oil on my palm and smooth it on, and voila. Instant shine.

Linda asks, what is your favorite birthday memory? I actually can't think of my favorite birthday memory. Isn't that kind of lame? I guess the year I was pregnant with Gabe and I had my big ultrasound right around my birthday was kind of fabulous. We went out to this cute Argentine restaurant outside of Boston, and I was looking obviously pregnant for one of the first times ever, and my parents were in town, and it was super fun. Another year, Josh made me a sunflower cake, entirely from scratch and cut out the shape and stem and leaves of the sunflower. When I turned 15, I had this huge party, and then my closest friends slept outside in a gigantic tent and we had cake for breakfast.

Oh wait, actually, I do have a really great birthday memory. When my parents first moved to the United States, it took them several years to get citizenship, and in the meantime, they couldn't go back to Argentina. When I turned 10 was the first time my parents had been back to Argentina in 12 years, and my parents reconnected with all their family and old friends who they hadn't seen in over a decade. They used my birthday as an excuse to have a HUGE party with everyone they'd ever known, and it was a blast. Ahh, turning 10 was so much more fun than turning 32.

Kellie asked, do you ever regret not going back to work? There are several different reasons for this answer, but I always return to no. I'd always planned on going back to work, and I certainly revisit the question quite often, but I really love staying home with my kids and I wouldn't change a thing. Going back to the first question above, I wish I'd had a career I really loved before I stopped working, but there is no question that I was not meant to go back to a law firm. This is the best "job" I've ever done, and this is the happiest I've ever been. I get impatient and annoyed and frustrated and all the rest, but I also have tons of fun with my kids and I really and truly don't believe anyone could raise my children better than me. Plus, I want to swallow them whole most of the time. That being said, I've been considering going back to school and I go back and forth and back and forth on that idea every couple of weeks. Stay tuned.

Beth asked, what on earth did you do to be struck with all this bad luck? Seriously? Just tell us. I won't judge you ;) Oh Beth, I wish I knew because then I'd go atone for my sins or do the appropriate voodoo or Wicca or whatever the heck I need to do. Honestly, this is getting ridiculous. This summer has been fun, but I've HAD IT with hospital visits and doctors and surgeries and crazy emergencies. Yesterday we had another emergency x-ray for Josie because she was BREATHING FUNNY and they were concerned she'd swallowed a foreign body and I walked out of the doctor's office and almost screamed at the heavens, "WHAT THE F&$%?" but I didn't, and she didn't swallow anything but she does have severely enlarged tonsils and adenoids. Make what you will with that information. I'm taking a break from listening to doctors for a little while.

And lastly, Anonymous asked, how are Tango and Murray? Well, the hardest question by far to answer, but they are doing really well. They are really happy and healthy and less stressed, and I miss them desperately. There was a stretch about a month back, where I was literally crying every couple of days because I'd see people walking their dogs and it would break my heart and I'd burst into tears while driving. The truth is, though, as much as I miss them, and as much as I wish they were with me, there is no doubt in my mind that they are happier and better off living with a couple with no children. They have this totally fabulous life where they go to work with their new mom (she works in a holistic medicine office) and they are smothered with love and the patients all visit them and ask for them and their new owner adores them and spoils them rotten. It is the life they wanted, and I couldn't give them the same stress-free life they'd had before Gabe and Josie and I believe they are happier now. I was devastated to hear from their new owner that Tango had a health scare where he had to have cataract surgery which resulted in some complications and they went through a tough couple of weeks, but he is doing really well now. Moments like those are the hardest, because I wonder what Tango must be thinking and whether he wonders where I am. Hopefully, HOPEFULLY, both Tango and Murray love and adore their new mom as much as she loves and adores them, and they've forgotten all about me. That would be my greatest wish, well, that and a happy life for them. I miss them, but the kids are happier, the dogs are happier, Josh is happier, and I am less stressed, that's for sure. Happier probably isn't the right term for me, but I'm okay.

Thanks for all the questions! That was fun!

happy birthday to me!

2010-07-28T11:03:00.002-04:00

Today is my 32nd birthday, and in honor of my birth, I am painting the basement. Yay!

Ok, not really, but I am in the midst of a giant do-it-yourself basement remodel, and I have momentum and don't want to stop. Not much of a birthday, but I figure we'll celebrate this weekend. My friend did bring me a chocolate croissant and a coffee from my most favorite bakery ever, so it has been a great morning despite the painting.

In honor of my birthday, I was thinking I would offer to answer any and all questions you might have (as long as they aren't toooo outrageous or involve me revealing my name or address or something like that). So leave me a comment with your (burning) questions, and I'll do my best to answer them.

Once all this painting is done, I'll be taking some time to sit outside and enjoy your beautiful weather too, so tell me if you have done something for yourself lately. I'd love to hear about your restful and spoiled moments!

beets are delicious

2010-07-22T20:20:00.002-04:00

I got online to write a post several times, and had to stop because I am boring myself with the complaining, honestly. We got the stomach flu again, this time I was firmly included in the camp, and as it went through Josie, then Gabe, and then me, I just couldn't help but start to seriously consider the possibility of this house or us being cursed. I know that sounds crazy, but this is where my mind is these days.

But... BUT! I was going to come on this morning and tell you that my children were no longer behaving like demon spawn! We had a full week where I didn't want to fling anyone from a moving vehicle, and it was great, and glorious, and I wanted to smother them with kisses, and I felt like my normal little boy was back. The little boy I am accustomed too, who is compliant and sweet and reasonable and delicious, and then. Today happened.

I think today may be one of the worst days in my parenting career, really and truly. Gabe was so awful. So horrid. So, ugh, difficult and contrary and outrageously disobedient and frankly, pretty much an asshole all day long. It was shocking and amazing, and I was at a loss for what to do. My normal parenting style was simply not working AT ALL, and threats and carrying out of threats and time-outs and spankings and all the rest were not working AT ALL. Like, NOT AT ALL. I finally put him in bed wayyy before his bedtime, without dinner, and told him that I loved him so much. SO MUCH, but I did not like the way he had been acting all day long and I hoped tomorrow would be better (please let tomorrow be better), and I haven't heard a peep since.

Today was baaaaaad, though, and I think now I shall retire downstairs to my living room with a movie and some deliciously fresh beets from our farm share (which I haven't told you about at all, and I really owe you multiple posts about it). And maybe some ice cream too. And perhaps a pina colada as well. And some chocolate. A lot of chocolate.

you can never have too many injuries

2010-07-14T21:46:00.004-04:00

Since we are nothing if not consistent, today at 11:30am, I received a call from Gabe's sports camp that he'd taken a tumble and could I please come get him ASAP.

I arrived to find his face bloody, his lips swollen and split, and his front teeth loose and bleeding.

Let's pause here to take a deep breath and recall that one of my number one phobias is for my children to bust up their teeth and end up with black teeth or no teeth or broken teeth. Big fat SIGH.

We headed in to an emergency trip to the dentist where they confirmed he didn't fracture any teeth or break any facial bones, but beyond that they can't help us. The dentist says the teeth will either be fine, or they may discolor, or they may fall out, or they may abscess and get infected and need to be removed. But they may be fine, but they may also be any one of those horrible things I just mentioned. We just don't know. Oh, and it could take months before any or all of those things happen. Have a nice day!

Anyone for margaritas at noon? On a Wednesday? As much as I wanted to bash my head against the wall, I kept my cool because Gabe was visibly nervous about another accident and the possibility of more trauma being done to him. We're on a soft foods diet for the next week, and in the meantime I've decided to pull him out of the sports camp even though I had ONE FREAKING WEEK OF FREEDOM but whatever, it's fine, I'm not bitter or anything. I'm too afraid of the very real possibility that he'll get hit in the mouth with a ball or fall again or whatever and it will further damage the teeth.

Honestly? I just feel defeated. Isn't this getting a bit ridiculous?

too much sun exposure?

2010-07-12T22:01:00.004-04:00

One of my friends emailed me this article on why parents hate parenting, or could be otherwise titled "how and why our children make us unhappy". In some ways it was a depressing article, and in others, totally liberating. I found myself nodding along in the article as the author spoke about the pressures on parents today, the things we worry about, the ways we are making ourselves crazy, and how being a parent brings you such joy even though the day to day is draining.

These days, I will freely admit it, life is hard. I am Exhausted, with a capital E. Gabe has become a full-fledged 3 and a half year old, and it turns out that 3 and a half year olds are totally unreasonable, totally insane, totally annoying, totally frustrating, and totally infuriating. They are also absolutely adorable and hilarious and brilliant, and thank goodness for that, because if not I'd be selling him on the street corner. Additionally, 18 month olds (or at least MY 18 month old) are all of those above things and more, and the combination of the two of them has me contemplating a drink at 9:15 in the morning, and I don't even like alcohol.

I have been having a hard time parenting lately, and I can't quite put my finger on the why. I feel like I'm always frustrated, have a short fuse, can't seem to get the day on a good track. I'm yelling more than I want to, getting actually angry rather than keeping control of the situation. I feel like both kids are just not listening, and actively disobeying all the time, and it is driving me bonkers.

I'm sure part of it has to do with all the injuries, part of it has to do with Gabe being out of any organized program since the end of March, part of it has to do with our contemplation of a third child, part is the ages of Gabe and Josie, and the rest, I have no idea. Maybe I'm not sleeping enough, maybe I'm just grumpy, maybe the kids are just difficult, maybe it is just a phase. Regardless, something has to change because my level of frustration (and Josh's too) is just too high.

If we're going to have a third child, Josh is adamant that it has to be soon, and I'm beyond terrified at the possibility. I really do want another baby- as insane as that is- but things are so crazy right now I can't imagine fitting another pregnancy, another bout of all-the-freaking-time sickness, another person into the mix. I think the worries about another baby are increasing my anxiety over Gabe and Josie's behavior too. Rather than viewing it as regular kid stuff, I keep having this doomsday attitude of "oh my God this is awful and it is only going to get worse and now we're going to have another and shoot me now." Somewhat unhelpful, I do acknowledge.

On the one hand, I'm adoring this summer with our super lazy days at our town lake (almost every single morning), delicious ice cream, relaxing grilling, and playing outside, but I'm also feeling totally burnt out and disappointed in my own and the kids' behavior. Any tips? Is this a terrible age? Tell me it is going to get better PLEASE.

gag

2010-07-07T10:33:00.002-04:00

Wading through day 11 of a stomach bug. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow, I am scooping poop into little vials to be tested for parasites.

Is there anything more disgusting than this? Please tell me if there is...

I may bubble wrap myself

2010-06-29T14:35:00.002-04:00

Egads, you guys. We are having some kind of infestation of these disgusting, revolting, stomach-turning, scream-inducing bugs.

(I cannot possibly put that picture on my blog because I might VOMIT)

Seriously, they are everywhere, and I am completely traumatized. For a few days there, I was finding up to 10 of them crawling around the house and I cannot figure out how they are getting in, where they are coming from, or how to stop them. We called an exterminator who told us the problem is that they have no natural predators, so when they start having their babies or whatever the hell they do, they just multiply like crazy with no way of stopping them. Also, they love cool dampness, and we have had quite the wet summer, so they are running around like gangbusters.

GAG.

The other day, I was gardening outside and came inside to get the kids something to eat, and saw a strand of hair dangling in my face, and when I went to brush it aside, an earwig crawled from that strand of hair onto my hand. THAT BUG WAS ON MY HEAD, HANGING FROM MY HAIR, IN MY FACE. Let's have a moment of silence.

Then earlier this week I picked up a bib from the kitchen counter, and two, TWO (!!!) crawled out from underneath the bib. (I'm honestly almost crying over here)

And then the worst of the worst of the worst? This morning, I was changing Josie's diaper and I pulled a wipe out of the container and wiped her with it and I DEPOSITED AN EARWIG ONTO MY DAUGHTER'S HOO-HA. They have infiltrated the wipes container and are hiding inside. On her girly bits (as Chatty Cricket calls them), I actually wiped her with an actual EARWIG and then I died and moved out of the house.

Josh keeps swearing he is going to spray the outside of the house with some organic chemical, and normally I'm all chemical-phobic and concerned about cancer, but I tell you, these bugs are starting to possibly look worse than chemical poisoning. I can barely sleep at night for fear of them crawling into our bed and biting me.

Finally, to add insult to injury, I was killing some tiny gnats that had gotten into the house from our trips in and out, and I went to swat at a moth, and IT FLEW INTO MY EYE AND GOT STUCK IN THE SPACE BETWEEN MY EYELID AND EYEBALL. You guys, I cannot even make this shit up, so I'm jumping up and down and screaming and holding my eye open with both hands and trying to get the moth to come out and Josh is staring at me in horror and saying, "I can't touch your eyeball. I just can't." while I am literally having a bug crawling into my brain.

I think this might be grounds for divorce, I honestly do.

it's only lemons right now

2010-06-22T23:55:00.003-04:00

It's official. Josie fractured the growth plate at the base of her hand- beginning of her wrist- and has to be in a soft cast for two weeks. I petitioned for a waterproof cast, or at the very least a removable splint so we could enjoy our few times of water play, but no such luck. The doctor flat out refused, and I'm trying to figure out what I am supposed to do for the two weeks of swim lessons we are signed up for over the next two weeks.

I thought I was okay with all of this, or at least as okay as I could possibly be with two children with injuries less than a month apart. Turns out, though, I actually wasn't. I walked out of the doctor's office and promptly burst into tears and cried for an hour while I drove around in circles with the kids in the back seat.

I'm so tired, you know? I feel totally defeated, and it doesn't help that Josh's work and travel schedule is all over the place and makes him completely unavailable to help. I feel like my life is totally out of control, and I'm overwhelmed, and frustrated, and angry, and nothing I do seems to help.

I looked back over the last week and realized that in ONE WEEK, I did the following:
1. Organized the kid bathroom cabinet
2. Organized the master bathroom cabinet
3. Organized the linen closet
4. Painted an old nightstand we had for Gabe's room (navy blue, so it took 4 coats of paint)
5. Weeded through ALL of Gabe and Josie's old clothes in the plastic containers in the basement (about 10 large containers)
6. Reorganized my closet
7. Painted the entire living room a new color (that room has 6 windows, a doorway, an elaborate fireplace mantle, and 4 beams across the ceiling, so it took a loooong time, about 16 hours of painting)
8. Researched and purchased a swing set (actually two swing sets, because I bought and returned one, a story for another time)

In that same week, of course, I also took care of the kids, made dinner every night, did tons of laundry, attended our regular activities, and packed for the Berkshires. I was out of control, obviously. I hardly slept last week, and stayed up until all hours of the night doing projects and planning projects and picking paint colors and scouring websites for ideas. At the end of my crazy week, I looked back and realized I was nesting, without the whole pregnancy thing, and I couldn't figure out why.

I think I've got it, though. I can't get control over my life. I can't stop the kids from hurting themselves, I can't help incompetent doctors and unfortunate accidents and traumatized kids, but I can organize my house. I can get a grip on the things in front of me, so I'm going crazy trying to control the things I can actually control- i.e., the bathroom cabinets. The linen closet. The living room paint color.

It isn't a solution, but it does help a little, and who knows. Maybe this will actually help me to complete our house before we've lived here for 5 years. I finally feel motivated to get curtains hung and closets organized and pictures on the walls. Feeling a little less overwhelmed and insane would be a nice result, as well.

On a related topic, does anyone have any experience with a child who has had a traumatic injury? Gabe is totally freaked out over his finger and is refusing to put it in water, refusing to let me touch or wash it, refusing to use it, and will sob uncontrollably if I insist. Yesterday I was trying to get him to just wet his finger in the tub, and he was sobbing and saying, "It's too scary Mommy, please, it's too scary. I can't do it. It hurts." It is enough to break your heart, I tell you. I don't believe it actually hurts, I think it is a psychological thing, and I don't know how to help him past this. Will it just take time? Should I not rush him?

beyond ridiculous, honestly

2010-06-17T23:05:00.009-04:00

You have GOT to be kidding me.

Guess where I spent my afternoon today?

If you guessed a hospital emergency room in the Berkshires, ding ding ding! You're right! Seriously.

The kids, my mother in law and I went into Lenox to attend the library's toddler story hour and grab some lunch before I left for NYC this evening. Everything was proceeding beautifully, and both kids sat and listened to the story, Gabe made a lovely craft and sat longer than all the other children perfecting his "pizza" (which oh my goodness, is a post for another time because this is the child who I thought would never sit longer than 30 seconds for the rest of his life), and we walked toward the car to drop our books off and grab the stroller on our way to lunch.

I was pulling the stroller out of the car and my mother in law was standing on the curb with the kids when I heard Josie start screaming. I actually didn't pay a ton of attention because truthfully, Josie falls 72,846 times per day. This wasn't a noteworthy fall, but then she continued screaming, and toddled over to me with her left arm hanging limply at her side and huge crocodile tears flowing down her cheeks. I picked her up and tried to examine her arm, but her screams got worse when I even gently touched her. I gave her a couple of minutes of calmly holding her to see if she would calm down, but her crying didn't lessen and that was when I started to worry.

I grabbed a couple of super tantalizing items from my purse (cell phone, keys, cookies) and held them out to her left side, and nothing. She kept crying, and wouldn't even attempt to move her little arm. I tried to take off her sweater and the screaming became so loud I couldn't continue, so I told my mother in law we were heading to the hospital.

I called Josh to find out where the closest children's hospital was, because I wasn't going to face the same situation as last time. I do learn new tricks, after all. He had no idea, so I called my pediatrician and my college roommate who is also a pediatrician, while my mother in law called anyone who lived in the area and had kids to see what they suggested.

After much gnashing of teeth (mine) and tears (Josie's), we eventually settled on the closer community hospital, rather than the farther children's hospital because her arm didn't look like a terribly serious injury, even if it was broken. My reasoning was that if anyone suggested anything like surgery or another invasive procedure, I'd demand to be transferred to a children's hospital at that point.

A few hours, several x-rays, many consultations later, the official diagnosis is that no one is sure what is wrong with her. Her shoulder and elbow are not dislocated, her forearm looks okay, and the pain seems to be centered on her wrist and hand. The problem is (according to the doctors) that the bones in her hands are not totally calcified and don't show up clearly on x-rays, so they can't see whether the bones are broken or not. It could be a sprain or it could be a break, and we won't know until it starts to heal next week and we see some callouses on another x-ray.

Poor Josie was in serious pain throughout the emergency room visit, though, and it broke my heart to see her crying like that. She was a limp little sack of potatoes and wouldn't even lift her head from my shoulder when people would enter the room. The doctor opted for a fiberglass splint/removable cast, and as soon as they wrapped her arm, she completely perked up and became a different kid. As they were wrapping it, she looked concerned until I reminded her that now she was "just like Gabe" and you can imagine how thrilled she was about that. 5 minutes later, she was running the halls of the hospital like the crazy little boss she is.

We are seeing an orthopedic hand surgeon next week- coincidentally the same one Gabe is seeing, of course, and we're hoping for good news on a repeat x-ray.

Needless to say, poor Josh had to rush out here when I called him in a panic and our trip to NYC is cancelled, or at least seriously modified. We may decide to head to the city on Saturday night or maybe just for the wedding, we're playing it by ear. If Josie doesn't seem much improved by tomorrow, I may ditch altogether and stay with her. Sigh. So much for our second attempt on a vacation, huh?

Most importantly, I think I may NEVER LEAVE MY HOUSE AGAIN, or at least until the kids turn 18. I'm also wondering if I should consult with a voodoo doctor to find out if someone cursed me or something equally evil. This is getting a little ridiculous, don't you think?

vacation, take 2

2010-06-16T13:03:00.003-04:00

We're hopeful, or maybe daring, or possibly insane, take your pick, but we're attempting another vacation sans children after the first one turned out not so well.

I'm very hesitant to go away, mainly because I hyperventilate at the thought, but also because Gabe seems a bit clingy. He is a pretty independent kid, but for the last 3 weeks he has been weepier and more tantrumy and asks for me to sleep with him and stay with him, and has had a couple of random meltdowns where he asks me not to leave him alone again. It is enough to break a mom's heart, just a little bit.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, as you see it, we have a wedding just outside of New York, so we have to leave. It is forcing us to jump right back on the horse, I guess. Gabe and Josie will stay with my in-laws for 2 nights, and we are staying with friends in New York City for those 48 hours, and hopefully living it up. I have big plans for Broadway shows, and cupcakes, and walks in Central Park, and most importantly, I want to eat an ice cream from the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck. This is number 1 on my list of priorities for the weekend. I am not even kidding.

If Gabe doesn't do well, have no doubt I will be jumping right back on the train and Josh can attend that wedding all by himself. I already had a little crying fit last night because I don't want to go, but I know it is important for us to get away and actually enjoy ourselves. The kids will be fine, and as everyone keeps assuring me, statistically, the odds are totally against something else happening while we're gone. Cross your fingers, though, just in case.

Gabe got his cast off today and did great, and his finger looks great, and we are hopeful it is going to heal well. We are cleared for water play and swimming and his aluminum fingernail will hopefully come off soon, and the sutures are hopefully healed also. Keep your fingers crossed for that too!

Have a great weekend!

worst vacation ever, part III

2010-06-13T22:48:00.003-04:00

If you missed the beginning, parts I and II of WORST VACATION EVER are here.

Dwelling on this whole trip is making me have flashes of post traumatic stress, so let's get this story done and over with so we never have to speak of it again.
_____________________

We left off from the story when Gabe was discharged from the hospital at 2am, with surgery on his hand scheduled for 6am the following morning. Gabe was asleep before we left the parking lot, and Josh carried him into my parents house, changed him, and put him to bed without him ever waking up. My parents house is small, so the idea was for me to sleep on the couch and Josh on the twin bed on the floor of Gabe's room, but both of us were so anxious and upset, we opted to sleep together on that tiny twin bed on the floor. Neither one of us slept. I couldn't stop dwelling on the surgery to come, and envisioning horrible scenarios where Gabe died under general anesthesia for something as stupid as a hurt finger.

By the way, I can't believe I left out how it happened. My parents have a heavy door between the garage and the house, and it slams automatically. We've never paid any attention to the door, except to keep it from slamming because it wakes up the kids. My mom and Gabe were leaving the house on Friday afternoon to run a quick errand, so my mom held the door open for Gabe, and then realized she'd forgotten the car keys. She turned back to grab them, the door slammed, and at the last moment, Gabe stuck his hand into the closing door. The door slammed on his finger, and it was heavy enough to partially amputate the top part. My mom said Gabe started screaming, and when she turned around and pulled open the door, there was blood everywhere. (shudder)

So Josh and I spent a miserable and unhappy night on the floor, both of us sitting upright at the faintest sound, both afraid Gabe was in pain, and afraid we might sleep through the alarm (not a chance) and both terrified of what was to come. In particular, I couldn't stop getting myself riled up over the possibility of an iv. I was DONE with Gabe being in pain, and I was ready to go to the mat with anyone who disagreed with me. There was even one moment where I honest to goodness hallucinated my mom coming into the room. It was totally crazy.

I finally got up around 4am, jumped in the shower, woke Josh up, he got dressed (same clothes since our bags were still at the hotel in Napa), and got the car ready to go. We woke Gabe up at the last possible second, lifted him from the bed to the car- totally asleep. We drove to the hospital, lifted him out of the car, carried him through the hospital, checked in at admitting, argued at the desk for 20 minutes because the paperwork wasn't complete- totally asleep. The surgeon finally called down to admitting and threw a fit because they wouldn't let us up and he was afraid an emergency surgery with more precedence might take our slot, so they let us go upstairs to pre-op while my mom kept arguing downstairs.

We made it upstairs, and in the one shining moment of mercy throughout this whole nightmare, we got an anesthesiologist who also had a 3 year old, and she told us she would put Gabe under before doing anything else since he was asleep. Josh laid Gabe gently down on the gurney, and somehow, impossibly, he stayed asleep. We did the whole pre-op preparation with the nurses and the anesthesiologist and the surgeon, and he stayed asleep. They actually WHEELED HIM IN to the operating room, put the mask on him and put him under, and he never woke up. I cried big fat hot tears of relief for that, and actually got on my knees to thank God later for that small gift.

The surgery took about an hour, so he was intubated and had an iv once he was already under anesthesia, and thankfully the iv was done after he was asleep because they later told us it took multiple tries to get the needle into a vein.

I was strangely calm during the actual surgery, although I did have plenty of moments of envisioning that surgeon walking through the door with horrible news- you know, the nightmares you see on television. I went downstairs for a coffee, tried to be calm and reasonable and told myself this was the best thing for Gabe. I wasn't prepared for the surgery to take as long as it did, though, so after 45 minutes, I became pretty antsy. Finally, the surgeon came out and said everything had gone well, and it was as he'd expected.

The cut had gone almost all the way through, down to the bone, so he'd examined the growth plate at the end of the finger, cleaned it, sewn multiple layers of stitches through the skin, repaired the nail bed, removed the nail, and inserted an aluminum nail to protect the nail bed until it was healed. He said the bone was actually broken, despite the ER doctor's assertion that it was not. The whole finger was wrapped up and bandaged around the hand, and Gabe would be out of commission with that finger for 4-6 weeks, with follow-ups for the next 4 months to make sure everything was healing. I was pretty surprised by the length of time for recovery, to be honest. We have swim lessons scheduled at a nearby lake for the end of June, and the surgeon said he couldn't get his hand wet for closer to 6 weeks.

We were allowed back, and Gabe looked fine. His tongue was swollen and protruding through his lips from the intubation, but besides that, he just looked asleep and I was so thrilled to see him whole and safe and alive, I could have cared less about anything else. The surgeon had been kind enough to get Gabe a large blue bandage with cars all over it, and then accent the bandages with Toy Story band-aids so Gabe would be sure to love it.

It took a while for Gabe to wake up, and I think Josh and I were a little nervous because the anesthesiologist kept hovering around him and checking on him and running her hands across his head to see how he was doing, but eventually, he snapped awake and sat up, just like that. He looked totally and utterly confused, because remember, he had no recollection of even coming to the hospital, so why all these people were around him and he was hooked up to tubes and monitors, he had no idea.

The removal of the iv went off without a hitch, and I carried him out of the hospital to the waiting car, and that was that. I could have kissed the surgeon and the anesthesiologist, I was so thrilled to be done and for my baby to be safe and finger repaired. For the rest of the day, Gabe was in a stupor, acting drunk and falling over his feet, and lying dazed on the couch. We put him down for his nap, and while he slept, Josh and I talked about what to do about all our stuff still in Sonoma.

We had no clothing or toiletries or shoes or anything, and after all, we'd come to the Napa/Sonoma area principally to see our dear friend T get married. We didn't want to miss the actual wedding, so we decided to start packing up the kids, rent my parents a room at the same hotel, and leave that same evening. Gabe could continue to recover at the hotel, armed with dvd players and toys and food. My parents could watch the kids while we attended the wedding, but we'd be close by in case something happened. So we did.

The next couple of days were rough, I'm not going to lie. We were all terrified Gabe would hurt his finger again, and the four of us (Josh and I and my parents) did a lot of yelling to keep Gabe from jumping or climbing, especially because the painkillers made him unsteady on his feet. Worst of all, the painkillers seemed to remove his inhibitions (who even KNEW three year olds have inhibitions, but I am here to tell you- THEY DO) and Gabe was incapable of listening to anything we said. He was acting like a maniac, and we were so terrified and stressed that any further injury to the finger might cause permanent damage or undo the surgery. Not to mention, the four of us shared a hotel room and let's not even TALK about how that worked out. We were all a mess. I know my parents were thrilled to drop us off at the airport hotel in San Francisco because they were done being stressed, and were sick and feeling guilty over the whole experience.

We did make it to the wedding, though, and even to a late Saturday night event, and we had a great time. I tried to put the weekend's events out of my mind for one night and enjoy seeing all of my girlfriends during that time period and for the most part, I was successful. I rarely drink, but I did consent to a few margaritas during the wedding, and truthfully, it probably helped.

On Monday afternoon, we left the Napa/Sonoma area, and drove to one of the San Francisco airport hotels for our flight on Tuesday morning. The hotel was fabulous, we turned in early, and Josh and I breathed a sigh of relief to be heading home. Josh turned to me at one point and said he needed a vacation from this vacation, and I agreed. The kids actually slept through the night even though we were sharing a room, and the next day, bright and early we headed to the airport for our flight home.

On the shuttle bus on the way to the airport, Josh got a text message from Delta saying our flight was delayed. I was concerned we'd miss our connection, but Josh assured me we wouldn't. We checked in at the front counters, sent off our luggage, asked about the connections and the agent assured us we were fine. We stood in line for security and got another text message saying the flight was further delayed and we were definitely missing the connection. We decided to go through anyway, and spent the next 3 hours arguing with gate agents and over the phone because according to them, we were stuck in San Francisco with absolutely no options for getting home.

We finally exited the terminal and went back to the front counters to argue and were seated on an overnight flight departing at midnight that night. With two kids, one of whom was drugged and acting crazy, and we were totally and completely sleep-deprived. When I tell you the Delta agents were horribly rude and unhelpful, it is an understatement. I almost started crying while standing at the counter when the agent told me I was lying about our 19 hour flight from Boston to San Francisco, and when he said that because we'd booked our flights with mileage, we were pretty much screwed because there was nothing they could do for us (which by the way, WHAT? So I am a loyal customer and you reward that loyalty by screwing us over?).

In desperation, I finally called the hotel back in tears and told her what was happening and asked if there was any way we could have our hotel room back (it had already been cleaned and checked out) for a few hours so the kids could nap and we didn't have to stay at the airport for another 12+ hours. Would you believe they said yes? She told us we were welcome to come back and she would set the room up again with a pack and play and we could stay as long as we needed to. That, my friends, is good customer service, and you better bet I will go out of my way to stay at that hotel chain again.

We returned to the hotel with just our carry-ons and car seat and jackets, and I let the kids sleep for the afternoon before the flight home. Thankfully I'd packed a pair of pajamas for each of them in the carry-on suitcases, so I dressed them in those for the flight back to Boston. We returned to the airport at 9pm, grabbed a couple snacks in the airport, and finally started our trip home at midnight.

It was AWFUL. We had a stop along the way, and Josie pretty much cried the whole way home (6+ hours) because she was too exhausted and uncomfortable to sleep, and Gabe couldn't get comfortable either, and after sleeping 3 hours, decided he was up for the day. Josh and I propped our eyelids up with toothpicks and did the best we could to manage the two of them. We finally landed in Boston at 11am, at which time Josh had to head straight into the office and I had a message from our pediatrician that I had an appointment with a hand surgeon that afternoon at 2pm, and I had to make it, because he didn't have another appointment for 3 weeks.

We rushed home, I dressed and fed the kids (dry cereal, since we had no food in the house) and we headed out to the hand surgeon appointment. On no sleep, with one drugged child and one sleep-deprived and screaming child. The appointment took 2 hours, and honestly, I have never been more mortified as a parent. Josie cried for the entire 2 hours, and Gabe was completely and utterly freaked because this was another doctor looking at his finger and trying to touch it and do x-rays and he was clinging to me like a spider monkey and crying and begging me to take him home while Josie clung to my legs and cried and gnawed on the bone models they had in the office.

I wish I were joking, it was beyond awful.

Thankfully, the surgeon said the surgery looked great and was healing well. It was exactly what he would have done, he said. We had a quick chat where he recommended casting the arm because he said little boys are notoriously untrustworthy with stitches and surgical sites. I agreed, but when the nurse who did the actual casting came in, she poo-pooed his suggestion and said she'd rather try to splint it. I was skeptical, but when she said it would be much easier for me to have a splint, I agreed. She did a half-assed splint, which I quickly made her re-do, we got our follow-up appointment, and I promised the kids cookies in the cafeteria on the way out.

I pushed the two of them in the stroller through the halls and got into the busy cafeteria where I tried to buy cookies and a grilled cheese so they'd have actual substance in their stomachs, while Gabe and Josie cried and argued, and somehow in the midst of the commotion, Josie got back and RIPPED THE SPLINT off of Gabe's finger, gauze, metal splint, bandages and all.

I swear to God, I almost left the two of them in the middle of the aisle.

My second thought was to sit on the floor and cry.

I did neither, but as best I could, calmly walked them back to the hand surgeon's office, waded through the crowds of waiting patients with the stroller, and told the front desk receptionist that I couldn't possibly do the splint and needed to talk to the doctor again. I was brought back, where we had another quick chat and after examining his finger, we decided to go for the cast after all.

I had several hours of horrible guilt that night when we got home because the cast is massive, from beyond the tips of his fingers to his shoulder. I had some kind of crazy post-traumatic stress anxiety attack where I started crying and couldn't stop and became convinced I was ruining his life because his arm was going to become atrophied underneath the cast and he'd never play sports again. It got so bad at around 3am that I started trying to figure out what I could do to cut the cast off myself. In the end (and after assurances from Josh and a few hours of sleep), I really do believe it is better. Gabe said to me as soon as she'd wrapped up his arm, "Now no one can hurt me! Now my finger is safe," so I think he is happier too.

So that's that. This Wednesday, we go back in to the surgeon's office and hopefully the cast comes off and a splint comes back on. Gabe is managing beautifully with the cast and has impressed all his little friends with it and gets lots of attention. He is definitely having some lingering issues about me leaving him and has been particularly teary and clingy lately, and will burst into tears and ask me not to leave him out of the blue. I'm also having some anxiety and especially have had some strange moments where I'll start thinking about everything that happened and break out in a cold sweat. It's been stressful, and as soon as we got home Josh had to leave on a business trip and both Gabe and Josie have been sick. It's been a little crazy, to say the least.

But, and it is a big but, Gabe is going to be fine. We're all fine, and I have a renewed appreciation for parents who have to deal with seriously ill or injured children. This seemed like such a nightmare to us, but in the grand scheme of things, it was a minor injury and we'll all recover and one day we'll hopefully laugh about it. Well, maybe my mom won't, but hopefully we'll look back and not want to cry. I don't know how parents keep it together and advocate for their children day after day and keep it together. My hat is off to you.

Thanks for all your kind thoughts and words. As always, they are great to hear, and make me feel better.

worst vacation ever, part II

2010-06-06T19:00:00.004-04:00

When last we left off, our heroine (oh, who am I kidding? basketcase, is more like it) was speeding along the highway to reach her son who'd been admitted into the emergency room.
________________________________

10 minutes onto the road, the doctor called and told Josh she was hopeful Gabe wasn't going to lose his finger. And that was when I lost my mind.

The doctor said they were taking him in to get x-rays, and then would evaluate the cut part of the finger. At that time we learned it was the pinkie finger of his left hand, and I spent many minutes of the drive taking deep breaths and trying to find that reassuring. You don't NEED a pinkie finger, right? Kids won't make fun of him TOO much if his pinkie finger is messed up. The pinkie finger is practically useless, if he loses it, it'll be okay. It worked, somewhat. But the truth is you don't want your baby to hurt, no matter what. And you don't want your baby to have any kind of deformity, no matter how minor, no matter if it is just his pinkie. And worst of all, you never want him to go through anything without you by his side.

Josh and I drove silently, willing the cars to drive faster. We sat in standstill traffic and bit our nails and stared at each other, and stared at the phone and prayed for time to move a little slower so we could get to the hospital. When we were about an hour from the city, the phone rang and it was my mom. She said the x-rays showed no break in the bone, and they'd already numbed his finger, which went horribly, as you can imagine. She said poor Gabe was screaming for them to stop and for her to take him away. And geez, I felt like the worst mother ever.

We hung up, and I finally gave in to my need to pee, that I'd been putting off for 3 hours already, not wanting to tack on those 5 minutes to the trip. We were literally sitting at a dead stop on the highway, so those 5 minutes weren't going to change our arrival. It might even help.

We got back on the road, and with 25 minutes to go, we got another call from the doctor. She opened up the call by saying, "I'm sorry we have to talk under these circumstances," which is pretty much the WORST POSSIBLE WAY you can start talking to a parent. My mind jumped to terrible scenarios, but it turned out to just be her way of talking. She said she'd been able to sew up his finger, but he didn't tolerate her trying to repair his nail, so she'd just "tacked it back on". I've never heard of that before, so after getting her to explain a little more thoroughly, I asked if that was common, and she said yes, she did it all the time. To tell you the truth, she was fairly dismissive and rude on the phone, and I later found out my mom had already had two arguments with her.

Backing up the story for a minute, when she'd numbed him, my mom asked her if she could numb him once and then wait a couple of minutes for the anesthetic to take effect before numbing the rest and she refused. Then when she was doing the actual sewing, Gabe was screaming the entire time that he could still feel it and flinging his body all over the place and begging her to stop and she told my mom he was lying and didn't give him more anesthetic. My mom starting screaming at the doctor, and they got into an argument where the doctor told my mom that "she was the doctor and she decided how they were going to handle things." Then my mom, which may not have been the best thing, told her I was already unhappy about my mom's choice in hospitals (which was true) and that I thought she should have taken him somewhere else. They had some sort of disagreement over that also. My mom says Gabe screamed for the full 7-10 minutes while they did the sewing, and the nurses were apparently so horrified with the doctor, they wouldn't help with holding him down. My mom had to take the brunt of his terror, and toward the end she said the stress was literally making her black out and she thought she might faint. My stomach is turning just writing that paragraph, so let's move on.

I hung up the phone, and told Josh about the whole "tacking on the nail" thing, and about my mom's comments on the doctor's behavior, and decided to call our pediatrician, even though by this time it was about 11pm in Boston. I made the call, told him the whole story, and he said hands were way out of his area of expertise, but he did agree it sounded a little bit sketchy. He said I was totally within my rights to ask for a hand specialist to look over her work, and if I was worried I should do that.

Josh was racing down the highway while I was on the phone, and finally, we were there. I called my mom to find out where they were, and I could hear Gabe screaming through the phone. We sprinted through the parking lot and into the emergency room, and finally, FINALLY, we were there. I threw my arms around Gabe, and held him on my lap while he sobbed and begged me to "run away from here and never come back". Nurses were trying to finalize the bandages on his finger and he was distraught, but when the doctor walked back in, I felt his whole body recoil. She started to insist on removing his bandages for us to see, while Gabe, my mom, and both nurses were arguing to just let him be. We talked her out of it, thank goodness.

I asked her about a hand surgeon, and she just about bit my head off. She told me I was being ridiculous, and a hand surgeon was totally unnecessary, she did this all the time, a hand surgeon would never come for this kind of injury. I was taken aback, but I insisted. We argued a bit, she said she wouldn't call a surgeon, and finally I picked Gabe up and told her I'd be taking him to another hospital. At that point, my mom walked out in tears, furious with me for insisting on another course of treatment that would likely end up in more pain for Gabe. I understood where she was coming from, but in my mind, I had to ask. I had to know this was the right thing to do, and I thought 5 minutes of pain was worth his hand being repaired correctly. I had to believe the Gabe in 10 years would be grateful if his pinkie was perfect and whole.

When I stood up with Gabe and told her we were going to another hospital, the doctor got visibly nervous, and said she'd go consult with a colleague. She came back and said there was a hand clinic tomorrow we could go to. Fine, I answered, we'd be there. She left, and returned again and said she was going to try the hand surgeon if I really felt that strongly about it. Great, I said. She called, returned, and said she was shocked, but the hand surgeon said he would come when he was done with his surgery. Perfect, we said we'd wait for him.

It was 9pm by this time, and Gabe hadn't eaten since noon, so she said to go out and get him food. Josh went out for some food, and Gabe scarfed it down like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Chicken nuggets, fries, chocolate milk, he was starved. At 11pm, the surgeon finally showed up.

He came in and chatted comfortably with Gabe, removed his bandages, examined the wound, asked my mom again to describe what had happened, and then told us everything the ER doctor had done was wrong. He said Gabe could lose his finger if we left her stitches in the way they were. He said the ends of the bones of children are more like cartilage than regular bone, so you can't see a break on x-ray. The growth plate in his finger could have been crushed, and without a repair the finger might not grow properly. The nail bed also needed to be properly repaired, the finger nail removed, and a substitute covering inserted. The hand surgeon should have been called because it was a partial amputation, and at the very least, a pediatrician.

Throughout all of this, of course, the ER doc was SILENT. Super super silent, and I couldn't even LOOK at her, lest I start throwing punches. There was talk of trying to hold Gabe down for 20-30 minutes to do an exploratory look around and see whether the hand surgeon could fix it without an actual operating room. I put a big fat thumbs down on that one, and told both of them Gabe had been through ENOUGH, and if anyone was doing anything to him, it would be asleep or sedated, or SOMETHING.

Of course, you'll recall that this same ER doctor told us to feed Gabe, so no one could do any sedating or putting to sleep tonight. The hand surgeon talked with us for a good amount of time and he agreed we should just schedule an OR for either later that night or the next day, and proceed with a surgery, which is where he figured we'd end up anyway.

He left to schedule an OR, and a flurry of activity followed. Gabe needed either an iv or injections of antibiotics (we opted for injections) and paperwork and medical history and various other preparations. The injections were horrific because the nurse proceeded to prepare the needles in front of Gabe so he started preemptively screaming and begging me to keep her away from him. I lay in bed with Gabe, holding him, and telling him all about the swing set I was going to buy him for being such a good boy, while he repeatedly asked to go home.

During all of this activity, no one returned to re-bandage his finger, and Josh and I were terrified he was going to bump it or get germs on it, or whatever happens to a partially amputated finger that hasn't been repaired correctly. We must have asked 9 times for a nurse to come put a bandage on it, and I finally had to open up the cabinet and grab bandages and antibiotic ointment and do it myself.

All of this time, poor Josie was at home with my poor Dad who has never been left alone with a child in his life, and who had absolutely no idea what to do with her. God only knows what he did with her for all those hours, although I did hear she slept in the recliner until my mom got home at 1:30am.

Toward the end of our time in the ER, the ER doctor did return to the room. She walked in and said she was sorry about the whole situation, it was a learning experience for her too, she didn't know she needed to call a pediatrician or a hand surgeon. Now, I am generally pretty forgiving and non-confrontational, but I LITERALLY could not look at her. I could not see her face, I could not make eye contact. I was so mad, I thought I could actually spit. I said, okay, fine, and when I wouldn't respond further, she bent over to try to meet my eyes and said again, "really, I'm really really sorry. I feel awful. This is all my fault." And I felt for her, I did. I understand, she made a mistake. But she made a mistake on my fucking kid, and I just couldn't give her what she wanted. I nodded, said thanks, and then turned back to Gabe and wished for her to leave. She didn't come back again.

We were eventually discharged at 2am, Gabe passed out in the car on the way home, and we set the alarm for 4:30am. The surgery was scheduled for 6:00am, and we had to check into the hospital at 5:45am. Josh and I didn't sleep a wink all night long.

Part III of this nightmare to come, after I deal with my flooded bedroom due to the broken gutter that is pouring water against our window and causing rain to flow freely onto our bedroom floor. Oh, and did I mention Josh is out of town?

worst vacation ever, part I

2010-06-03T23:03:00.002-04:00

Josh and I had an amazing trip planned for last week. I was flying to San Francisco on Friday afternoon, taking the kids to my parents' house and getting them all settled in. Then on Wednesday morning, I was picking Josh and two of our closest friends up from the San Francisco airport and heading off to Napa/Sonoma for a wine trip that culminated in another dear friend's wedding.

Our plans were fabulous, and we were so excited, and I planned and researched and planned and researched on best wineries and best restaurants and best locations and most fun things to do. We were all giddy with excitement, especially Josh and I because it was our first ever kid-free vacation since having Josie. We couldn't wait.

Friday came around and I packed everyone up, got the kids ready, Josh took us to the airport, and we boarded the plane as planned, and then sat on the tarmac. First, we sat there for an hour when they announced an ice storm in Atlanta (our connection), although I called my friend in Atlanta and she reported no ice storm, but whatever. Then it was two hours. Then it was three hours. After three hours, the crew announced that by law they are no longer allowed to keep people on the plane for longer than three hours, so we were allowed to get off the plane, but although they had to allow us off, they didn't have to wait for us to get back on. So if they got the call allowing the plane to take-off, they were allowed to LEAVE PEOPLE in Boston. They would make a quick announcement at the gate, but if we went to the bathroom or to grab a snack, they were permitted to leave us.

Now, if you have two or more children, you know even a trip to the bathroom can take forever, so I, of course, stayed on the plane. I thought the odds were pretty high if I got off the plane with my two maniacs, we might get left behind while I was chasing one or the other around the terminal.

The wait turned into 4, and finally 4 and a half hours, when the pilot finally announced we were allowed to take off. Now, at this point, we haven't moved an inch, and the dvd player has already run out of batteries and everyone is tired and frustrated. I have to admit, though, the kids were still doing really well at this point. We fly to Atlanta, I'm freaking out about our connection, but at least I've secured a place to stay that night if we can't make it to San Francisco.

We land, and sit on the tarmac for another 45 minutes because there is no gate for the plane, but finally, FINALLY, we are parked and allowed off the plane and we run through the Atlanta airport, board the train, jet over to another terminal, and are thrilled to find our connection also delayed. I grab chicken nuggets for dinner at the first food stand, rush onto the plane, without even having time to change anyone's diapers or take a bathroom break or charge the life-saving dvd player. We get settled onto the plane, and the crew announces- there are no pilots. The pilots are missing, no one can find them, they think they are on some delayed flight that hasn't even landed yet. Now, why we're all boarded on the plane and sitting here, no one knows.

I have to laugh or cry, so I laugh, and try to get the kids calm and settled in. We eat dinner, and wait, and wait, and wait. 2 hours later, they announce the pilots have landed. Another hour later, the pilots show up on the plane and everyone claps. Half an hour later, we are completing our safety check and finally heading out.

By this time, we're at 2am Boston time, the kids are losing their shit, and frankly, I'm losing my shit too. We're all tired, annoyed, stir crazy, hungry, bored, and did I mention tired? Oh, and no one has napped.

We make it through the flight by the skin of our teeth, and I tell you, it is a good thing you aren't allowed to beat your children in public because I had my moments during that flight. Josie wouldn't stop crying, and when she finally fell asleep, Gabe kicked her in the head because he was frustrated he wasn't sleeping also. She fell asleep again and Gabe announced he had to poop. I held both children in my arms for most of the flight, and if I moved an inch, one or the other would cry. My patience was being SERIOUSLY tried. Seriously. We landed, and I finally got everyone settled into bed at 7am Boston time, and were up for the day a little less than 2 hours later.

I will say, however, after those first two days of recuperating from the flight, we had a great few days. We spent quality time with grandparents, checked out the sights, played at playgrounds, I had dinner with friends, and the kids were happy.

I was anxious, but left the kids in capable hands, picked up Josh and our friends, and started our vacation off optimistic that we'd be having a terrific time. We tasted wine, ate great food, laughed a TON, ate delicious cheese, laughed a TON, and hung out with our fantastically fun friends. There were multiple times during those first couple of days where we commented to each other that vacations like these were what made growing up worth it. We were having so much fun, and the wedding weekend hadn't even started yet.

Friday came around, and we met up with the bride and started the wedding activities. Friday night consisted of Sex and the City 2 in the afternoon, and a casino night including dinner and lots of gambling for all the guests. I left Josh lounging in a square full of shops and excitedly went into the movie, until about 15 minutes in, he ran into the theater, grabbed my arm and told me he'd gotten a call from my mom that Gabe had hurt his finger and was in the hospital.

I ran out of the movie theater, our friends grabbed all of their stuff out of our car, and we jumped on the road back to Sacramento. We were in Healdsburg, about 3 hours from Sacramento on a good day, and we were leaving in the heart of rush hour, right at 4pm. We were a mess.

10 minutes onto the road, the doctor called and told Josh she was hopeful Gabe wasn't going to lose his finger. And that was when I lost my mind.

Part II to come...

oooh-la-la

2010-05-18T20:42:00.001-04:00

Guess what we did last weekend?

Guess who got her first haircut ever?

Is it terrible that I could NOT stop laughing? Even Josh was getting annoyed and kept saying, "Seriously, it isn't funny. She's freaking out." But it was just so silly, and it wasn't hurting her, although if you'd asked Josie she said it was like getting toenails removed. I was shocked to see her cry so much, because this baby is TOUGH. She gets trampled and knocked over and doesn't bat an eyelash, but apparently haircuts push her over the edge!

The cut is adorable, though! She looks like a little French baby with her cute little bob haircut, especially in the back. It makes her little curls more noticeable, I think, because the curls are all even. We all love it! Josie says this is her first, and last, haircut, though!

I wanted to give you a cuter close-up, but that would require me actually combing her hair, so it's going to take some time.

at least it was free

2010-05-17T15:21:00.002-04:00

A few weeks ago, this strange throbbing started in one of my teeth on the left hand side. The throbbing was sporadic, though. It would happen only once in a while, and it was never terrible, mostly just annoying. The vast majority of the time, it wasn't even annoying, I just felt like I knew my tooth was there. It was worse at night, but didn't seem to be affected by anything. I could eat hot foods or cold foods, hot drinks or cold drinks, crunchy food, hard food, it didn't matter. It would come and go, and sometimes I went 2 days without feeling anything.

But I worried. I'd go over these horrible scenarios of what it might be- I'd need a root canal or maybe the tooth would be so bad the dentist was going to have to pull it. I stressed and fretted and felt anxious over what the dentist might tell me. In the meantime, I started having crazy allergies and sinus pain. I know from experience that tooth pain often means a sinus infection, so I calmed down over the whole random throbbing and attributed it to sinus problems. But last week the sinus problems improved, although I'm still having what I assume are allergy headaches, and the tooth continued to bother me. I guess "bother" is the right word. It is such a weird problem to be having.

Finally, on Thursday I bit the bullet and called the dentist, got an appointment for this morning, and then worried myself to death over the weekend. I kept telling myself to let it go because it is what it is and there is nothing I can do about it, worrying won't change the tooth situation and I just have to hope for the best and not ruin our weekend over it. The tooth was about the same, maybe a little better, and I realized that the gums around the tooth were also swollen. Another worry added to my list, of course. Now I thought I might have some crazy gum disease that was infecting teeth. It was a fabulous weekend.

This morning I went to the dentist's office, and convinced myself that even a trip to the dentist, alone, with a great book, was really a good thing. Practically a vacation, right? The dentist whacked away at my teeth, did x-rays, chatted with me over symptoms, poked around while I yelped in response, and guess what?

I'm OVERFLOSSING.

I have apparently "shredded" my gums by flossing zealously and am aggravating the cuts every night when I floss again. I have been interpreting the throbbing as tooth pain when it was really GUM pain.

I'm thrilled by this diagnosis, of course, although I feel like a giant fool. I made Josh take off from work, made an extra long dentist appointment so he'd have time to repair the tooth if needed, worried for WEEKS over this, and now I have strict orders to STOP FLOSSING. I'm doing gum massages with my finger (which cracks me up), salt water rinses until the tissue heals, and no flossing for at least a week and even then, I'm resuming with a different brand and method.

Of course, Josh claims this is proof that his teeth care method is superior to mine- i.e. never, ever, under any circumstances, floss your teeth. Brush only sporadically.

Life is so unfair sometimes.

avoid beheadings and crucifixions at all costs

2010-05-13T22:53:00.003-04:00

It was raining yesterday, and given our new non-school situation, I've been trying to get the kids out the door and doing activities most days. If we stay home, I find that the percentage of screaming coming out of me goes up dramatically, so out the door we go.

I was feeling brave, and decided to attempt Boston's Museum of Fine Art. With a three year old. And a one year old. By myself. In the rain. Stop laughing. Seriously, it's not funny.

I did my research beforehand and read on the website that the MFA offers little bags of activities for kids and some handouts on ways to keep them engaged- something along the lines of "how many dogs can you find in these pictures?" I was excited and enthusiastic and I packed tons of snacks and talked up the visit and kept telling Gabe we were going to see pictures and sculptures and mummies and all that. I wavered at the last minute, wondering whether I should take a single or double stroller, because the double would mean full confinement for Gabe, but I decided in the end that taking him into a museum and not even letting him walk by himself was cruel and unusual punishment, and brought the single instead.

We arrived and he started running ahead immediately, telling anyone who would listen we were going to look at pictures and having a special day. I checked our coats (less baggage), headed straight to the visitor's center for our free bag of goodies, and we were on our way. The bag was totally not age appropriate, but Gabe felt super special just to be carrying it around. We would arrive into a room and he'd plop down on a bench and remove all his items from the bag, sort the papers, and put them all back again.

We basically did a speed tour of the museum. We'd walk into a room and I'd offer commentary about this lady's hat, or that pack of dogs, or "wow! Look at those cows!" and then we'd move on. I talked up the newest exhibit containing items from a tomb, thinking the toy ships would be a big hit, but he barely looked at them. We liked the walking around, and except for an incident where HE TRIED TO SHIMMY UP A SCULPTURE, all was right with the visit. Let's not talk about the sculpture climbing, I've blocked it out and I hope no one caught it on video.

The museum was fairly loud, thank goodness, due to visiting school children and tourist groups, so our chattering went unnoticed. Three year olds and one year olds are not clear on the whole "inside quiet voices" thing. We did get reprimanded when Josie realized her voice echoed in one hall and she let out several loud "ahas" as I raced through the room. The employee at the museum sternly told her to stop, which I found kind of unnecessary as I was obviously doing my darnedest to get out of the room asap. Stopping us in the middle to shush us did not speed up the process. Plus, dude, she's one. And small for one, most people assume she is 9 months old.

The Japanese gardens were great, and both kids balanced on rocks and walked across the benches and enjoyed the reprieve from the rain. Lunch was also a hit, and we sat at a table and looked outside at the courtyard and talked about what we'd seen.

All in all, I'm not doing it again any time soon, but it was fine. Gabe would tell you he saw "some picture men and a guitar", Josie would tell you she was pissed I wouldn't let her out of the stroller, and I'd tell you I'm happy to be able to tell my in-laws I took their grandkids to the museum. I survived, only a little frazzled and not much worse for the wear. Next time, though, it's the Aquarium for us.

drama with the 3 year old crowd

2010-05-12T10:09:00.001-04:00

I can't believe I forgot to tell you what happened when we got back from California! I had to pull Gabe out of the CRAZY PRESCHOOL. I know. Summer started veeeerrrrryyy early in the Halloweenlover household, and it hasn't been pretty.

I'm sure you remember the preschool drama, but for those of you who missed it, you can catch up here.

The continuation is that the day I was flying home from California, when Gabe was supposed to be back at school 2 days later, I get a message on my cell phone letting me know BOTH of Gabe's teachers quit while we were gone. One just up and quit and never showed up again at work, and the other claims she got a full-time job and they needed her to start asap. With 6 weeks left of the school year, and no notice. So the director was left to find two substitutes for Gabe's classroom with, ohhh, 3 days of notice.

I called the teacher back, listened to her long-winded, totally unclear explanation, and then called the director to get more details. In the meantime, Josh and I start talking about what to do. I wasn't fully comfortable sending Gabe into a classroom with two substitutes that were found at the last minute and no supervision from the director or the other 20+ years experience teacher. Josh assured me, though, the two substitutes couldn't possibly be left alone with the ten children given the circumstances.

Oh wait, did I mention this would be Gabe's FIFTH and SIXTH new teachers of the year? We have had multiple teachers quit since he started in September.

Anyway, I called the director back on Monday morning to get the scoop before Gabe was supposed to be in at 9am. She exploded on the phone at me, ranting about the teachers and how unprofessional they'd been (agreed) and how it made her look bad (agreed) and how everyone was going to think she'd fired them (um, no that isn't precisely what it make me think) and how ridiculous the whole situation was (agreed). She went on and on about what the teachers quitting was doing to HER, and how SHE felt about the situation, and what a bad position SHE was in.

At some point in our chat, I said I assumed since there were two classrooms, let's call the other classroom room A (no disruption all year), and Gabe's classroom room B (fifth and sixth new teachers), with two teachers each, she would be putting one experienced teacher in each class, and one substitute or temporary teacher in each class. So room A would get one original experienced teacher and one new teacher, and room B would get one experienced teacher and one new teacher also. This seemed the fairest plan to me, since room B has already had so much upheaval.

Seriously, I haven't even bothered to mention it throughout the year because it seems so absurd, but Gabe's classroom has been wild. I've arrived to mad chaos almost every day, and teachers who look defeated and unhappy and uninspired. I hear stories from other parents about conflicts they've had both with the director and with the teachers, and although the kids seem fine, they don't seem to be thriving. Gabe was in a little home-based toddler program last year, and he seemed so much happier and excited to go every day, and when I came to pick him up at the end of the morning, the director never seemed to annoyed and frustrated with the kids. Whenever there has been an event, such as a teacher leaving or a child having problems, I see a noticeable effect on the kids, Gabe included.

Okay, back to the conversation. I said I thought it was most fair for the teachers (the director is one of the teachers in the other classroom) to be split between both classrooms so both classes get a little upheaval and lots of stability. Her response? "To be honest with you, we're not doing that because I don't feel like it." (emphasis added on my part) "I just don't want to have to deal with a substitute teacher. I think I have a difficult classroom this year, and I enjoy working with my assistant teacher, and I just don't have the strength or inclination to deal with someone new."

Wait, are you speechless yet? Are you noticing she ISN'T EVEN PRETENDING this is about the kids? My response? "Well, to be honest with you, I don't think Gabe's class is the easiest class ever, and I don't feel comfortable sending him into a class with teachers who haven't worked with these kids before and who were found on such short notice." She said she understood, but again, didn't really care, and didn't want to deal with the temporary teacher, and thought it wasn't a bit deal for the kids to have all of this change, and didn't think it was affecting them, so she wasn't changing anything. Oh, and if I didn't like it, I was welcome to leave.

The conversation was longer than this, of course, but I was actually pretty proud of myself because I tend to not say what I'm thinking in confrontational situations, but in this case, where my son was concerned, I said what I thought. I said I was disappointed in the situation. I said I didn't think she was being fair. I said I wasn't comfortable, and at the end, I said I was pulling him out of the school. And she said fine. And then I chickened out, so Josh called back and asked for our money back for the last two months and she agreed.

We were in a particular situation, where we'd been on vacation for 2 weeks, so Gabe already had a period of separation from the school and had no idea what had gone on with all of the teachers quitting. There were 6 weeks left of school (one of which was April vacation), and we didn't think it made sense to put him through all those changes and adjustments just to leave in such a short time. Josh, in particular, felt strongly he didn't want Gabe sent back to the school.

The first week, I'm not going to lie, I panicked. It was April, and the summer stretched on interminably and September looked ridiculously far off. I buckled down, though, and started making plans for day trips. I've called everyone we know, made playdates for every day, and taken the kids to the Museum of Science, the Children's Museum, Boston Common, parks everyday, the library, long walks, whatever gets us out of the house and onto a schedule has been included. The first days were painful, and just when I assumed Gabe would never ask, he asked if he could go to school tomorrow and I had to tell him school was over. It was sad, but Gabe didn't seem all that upset, although we had a couple days of less than stellar behavior which I attributed to the news.

Lately, though, things have been great. The house is a little messier, and dinner has been a little skimpier, but everyone is happy and busy and enjoying the days. I'm glad we made this choice, and I hope next year's preschool is better in so many ways. Closer, more professional, more stable, and NOT CRAZY! Is that too much to ask?

bloggy business and mother's day too!

2010-05-11T08:08:00.000-04:00

I did it! I did it!

It's been years, but I finally updated my blog. I was a little sad to do it, because I did love the customized autumn blog theme, but it was time. This bloggy background is more Spring and Summer appropriate. Hopefully before Halloween comes back around, I'll be able to find something a little more Fall and Winter appropriate. Plus, the graphic artist who designed it is from Argentina! Totally fitting, no?

What do you think? Better? That "labels" feature, which tells you how many posts are about any given subject is kind of scaring me, though. I apparently talk about Gabe A LOT. Poor Josie is going to start feeling neglected if I don't start sharing the news about her!

Happy belated Mother's Day also! My day was fabulous and the kids were sweet and Josh was generous and helpful and I had a great time. I received cards in bed and a book about cheese, because I've decided I want to be a cheese connoisseur (long story for another post). My book about cheese was accompanied by a gift certificate to my favorite cheese shop and a promise to take me on a Vermont Cheese Tour. We spent the day in Rockport, Massachusetts, and walked around in the freezing wind drinking hot chocolates, window shopping, eating cupcakes, and then taking leisurely drives up the coast.

It was truly lovely, and the kids were funny and silly and behaved beautifully. I think I'll keep the three of them. I do adore them.

secrecy

2010-05-10T08:45:00.000-04:00

Years ago, when I first started blogging, I obviously didn't understand the power of the Internet. I didn't (and I know I'm not the only one) realize that simple comments I made, or (what I thought were) generic references regarding my town would allow readers to pinpoint my location or learn who I was. I thought I was being super secretive, but I realize now there is really no such thing. Once you put yourself out there, inevitably you'll say something allowing people to know where you live or what your name is, no matter how careful you think you're being.

I remember reading one of my favorite blogs and having her reference a dinosaur exhibit in her town, and out of curiosity, I googled the dinosaur reference and BOOM, all of a sudden I knew exactly which very small town she lived in. Another blogger told me a story about a reader emailing her with very personal details about her address and her children, simply from a few comments she'd made about her library, a farm they frequented, and a general description of her town. I don't blog under my real name for precisely this reason, I guess. I don't have a totally crazy name, but it is unique enough to pinpoint me on the map.

Anyway, Josh implores me to do my best to keep our location private, so I do, but this certainly puts a cramp in my blogging style. On a daily basis I think of things to tell you about our town's ridiculous garbage situation, or the dramatic police event that took place in our front yard yesterday, or the ridiculous nature of some of my neighbors, but I don't. Maybe it is a wasted exercise and totally unnecessary, because obviously tons of people blog under their real name, but I am paranoid, so I don't.

What about the rest of you? Do you worry about this? I know some of you blog under your real name, but what made you decide to be straight with the Internet? If you're not, are you super careful with your details?

spoiled, ungrateful, bitchy, all of the above

2010-05-05T13:04:00.001-04:00

Josh asked me if an appropriate Mother's Day gift would be a contribution to our swing set fund.

Am I meanest, most selfish mom EVER if I say no?

I don't know, something about swing set fund contributions does not feel Mother's Day-ish to me. I don't even care about any presents. I'd be thrilled with breakfast in bed and homemade scribbles from the kids, and maybe a little fabric shopping outing for me. I love to fabric shop, did I ever mention that? But the whole kid gift contribution thing felt very non-gifty to me.

I'm sure he meant well, since he knows I am desperate for a swing set which will (hopefully) provide countless hours of amusement for my two monsters. His heart was definitely in the right place, I am just hard to please perhaps.

What are your Mother's Day traditions? Give me ideas!

letting the hippie out

2010-05-04T08:36:00.000-04:00

Sorry, but I'm taking the excitement level down around here. Last post was about seductive dance, today's is about drying your clothes. Titillating, I know. Try to contain yourselves.

I need some advice. I hate using the electric clothes dryer, and our laundry room is often seen overrun with clothes hanging from a metal drying rack, wet clothes on hangers hung all over the room, and sometimes even clothes in the dining room or kitchen draped over chairs. My old house had this fabulous clothes line across the section of the basement devoted to laundry, but the new house is lacking in such novelties. Our new room is a largish laundry room, so there is no reason why I can't eventually add some laundry hanging racks or whatever, but it isn't in the budget right now.

Anyway, I've never experimented with outdoor laundry drying, and I'm intrigued. I read people's reports of the fresh outdoor smell on sheets or clothing, and I want to see if this smell really lives up to its reputation. I want a clothesline.

Josh is mortified, of course, and has been muttering under his breath how tacky we are going to look and what is wrong with me, and keeps suggesting ridiculous alternatives to dry our clothes that do not include drying outside. I will not be deterred, though. I want the fresh smell, I want to feel these amazing sheets, I want to embrace my eco-friendly side.

My problem is, I don't know where to start. My instinct is to buy two pulleys, string one from our deck and one from our tree. Then I'd stand on the deck with our laundry basket and attach each piece of laundry and pull the string away from me as I load it up, then do the opposite when I take it down. Of course, this is maximum visibility and maximum tackiness in Josh's opinion. This is the cheapest and easiest option, however. Another possibility is to buy one of these portable racks and put it outside on the patio or deck or whatever when I'd like to hang up clothes, but there are an awful lot of portable racks and they aren't quite as inexpensive as I'd hoped. I looked up all the other directions for installing a more permanent clothesline, but those directions involved concrete and digging holes and I just don't think we'll ever get to it these days.

So, suggestions? Anyone use a clothesline? Liked it, hated it? Have tips on which to buy? Would like to tell me what a crazy crunchy nut I'm turning out to be? If you'd told me a few years ago when I was dry cleaning everything I owned, ordering take out every night at the office, and gas guzzling all over town, that in a few short years I would be hanging everything up to dry, breastfeeding my 16 month old, participating in a community supported agriculture share, and buying tons of organic foods, I'd have laughed in your face.

Oh, how times have changed!

mastering the art of seductive

2010-04-28T23:26:00.002-04:00

I'm not shy or lacking in self confidence, normally. I was cool with the knife fighting from our Stiletto Spy School classes, I'm fine with self-defense, lie detection, male Elvis strippers, crazy casino antics, all the rest. I loved it all, in fact. I still look back on those moments and chuckle to myself.

But.

The section of the spy school that featured "the art of seductive dance" was definitely NOT in my comfort zone. Especially not with tons of other people watching, several of which I hardly knew. Did I mention I'm a terrible dancer? I mean, I have the beat, but beyond shaking my hips and moving my legs a little, I'm not much for the moves. Plus, the bride and several of her friends live in Los Angeles. They take pole-dancing classes for fun! I'm way behind on my skills.

Our class was taught by an Australian stripper, and it took me a few minutes to even catch on to her accent, especially since she would refer to our "knickers" and "snap-off thongs", terms I don't normally use in my every day life with the two kids. Unfortunately.

Anyway, she started out with a dance routine to You Can Leave Your Hat On, and folks, this was not for the shy of heart. This was a straight up strip tease/lap dance, complete with removing all articles of clothing, rubbing our hands all over our bodies, flinging legs in the air, dancing on top of chairs. It was... something else.

I'm a good sport, though, and I pushed aside my discomfort and went with it, even though as I look back on pictures I'm realizing that when everyone was bending right, I was bending left, and when their arms were wrapped around their bodies, mine were still holding on to the chair, when they were on their knees, I was still in the turn. I'm sure it looked awful, but I persevered.

I even whipped out my perfectionist tendencies and asked specific questions like, "when did you say we should take off our underwear? Did you want us to rub all over our bodies or just through our hair?" My girlfriends got a good chuckle out of those, for sure.

I still haven't performed my moves for Josh, and I've practiced a few times and cannot for the life of me remember all the dance moves, but I did learn some valuable tips for those of you who would like to perfect the art of seductive dance.

1. You have to OWN IT. Who cares if you feel silly? BELIEVE that you look good. Believe that your significant other has never seen anything sexier. Rub that booty!
2. When all else fails, run your hands up and down your body, tousle your hair, crawl on your hands and knees. Again, they'll love it.
3. Turn down the lights, set up the candles, wear something sexy, put on a hot song. You Can Leave Your Hat On is good because it gives you cues on what to do, if you're at a loss.
4. Feel sexy, walk slowly, throw your hips around, and you will be sexy. I saw all those girls in the class transformed from shy girls into sex goddesses in just a couple of hours. Seriously, it was miraculous.

I'll let you know how I fare with my routine, I'm planning to go through with it this weekend after a couple of glasses of wine. I need to find a hat before I can really complete the effect. Anyone have a fedora they aren't using?

vegas, baby

2010-04-23T23:43:00.003-04:00

Well, let's sum up the trip, shall we?

I took a knife skills and self defense class from crazy marine reconnaissance mission guys, learned about the art of interrogation and lie detection from a former (25+ year) CIA operative, and then practiced the art of seductive dance with a stripper (lap dances and chair dances). Watched Elvis strip and take money off of my friend T with his teeth. Laughed so hard in a casino I lay down on the floor and thought I might actually pee my pants. Relaxed by the pool for hours soaking up the sun while Bostonians got snow flurries. Almost collapsed on Monday morning from multiple days of sleep deprivation and a red eye flight.

It was fabulous and amazing and ridiculously fun. I am so stinking lucky to have such funny and confident and beautiful and fun and kind and generous and loving friends. I saw the trailer for the new Sex and the City 2 movie, and Samantha says, "Men, babies... it doesn't matter. We're soul mates." and it made me think of these girls. We don't live in the same city with unlimited budgets and the ability to lunch together every day, but we do continue to make the effort through the years. We've been lots of places, through lots of milestones, the good and the bad and the distances, and we're still holding strong.

Now if only I could get back to Vegas where no one is asking me to change any diapers. Hmm.

arrivals and departures

2010-04-14T23:26:00.002-04:00

I can't remember now if I mentioned that the kids and I were leaving for California, but we were, and we did, and now we're back.

I survived, although I will admit that the trips to a fro were BRUTAL. On the trip there Gabe, Josie, and I were flying from Boston to Washington D.C. and then on to Sacramento, and because Josh happened to be flying out the same day from a different airport, I was lucky enough to have a friend offer us a ride, but we had to be dropped off at the airport 3.5 hours early. We'd been in airports or flying for 7 hours by the time we boarded the plane in D.C., and it wasn't until that moment that I realized the horrible truth. We'd made NO PROGRESS and were facing a 6 hour flight to California. I almost cried, but instead I fed the kids cookies and ate peanut butter cups. Then Gabe got diarrhea on that flight and I spent 30 minutes in the airplane bathroom wedged into a corner, pressing my knee against Josie to keep her from moving and licking the sides of the toilet and holding Gabe up while he cried. It was, well, A.W.F.U.L. Really. I've been blocking it out of my mind because I still faced the return trip and I didn't want to consider what might happen on the return.

It wasn't quite as bad as the initial trip, mainly because we were traveling for 8 hours as opposed to 14.5, but Josie did vomit all over me as we were descending into Denver, and then we had an Incident on the moving walkway when her car seat got trapped in front of me as we were trying to get off the moving walkway, and the rolling luggage was behind me, and I looked like a cartoon character as I tried to balance with a rolling item in front of me and another behind me and my legs pinwheeling while I frantically tried to heave the caught car seat off the ramp. A kindly man finally took pity on us and sprinted over and helped me fling the car seat off the metal ramp. I'm sweating just remembering that moment, I wish I had video. The rest was terrible but not due to any dramatic events, just general toddler misbehavior and a 2am arrival time. There isn't much you can do when you are keeping kids up for hours and hours past their bedtime. You just give them more lollipops and hope for the best, no?

The rest of the trip was great, although much much colder than I'd planned on due to some sort of unexpected cold front. My parents and I took the kids to the zoo, the San Francisco Exploratorium, some toddler type amusement park, tons of parks and walks, and I gained 5 pounds because I ate like a pig and sat on my behind all day long. Ahhh, vacation. I miss you.

We're back at home, and I am in some sort of crazy delirium of being thrilled to be home, in my bed, with my husband, and loving my house and neighborhood and the weather that is somehow ridiculously warmer than California. Go figure! I'm taking long walks and slow jogs every day because I have to lose these 5 pounds before this weekend due to an incredible event taking place on Friday.

I am LEAVING MY CHILDREN FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER. EVER. I am going to Vegas with some of my best law school girlfriends and we are doing extravagant things like staying at the Venetian hotel, going to Stiletto Spy School, gambling, dancing, and taking care of no one besides ourselves for 72 whole hours. I will not be wiping another human beings' behind for 3 whole days. I'm hyperventilating at the thought. I've also cried 3 times over the last 3 days because I'm leaving Josie for the first time in the care of her father, and it is killing me softly, but I am holding on to the belief that doing something for myself with my friends will make me a better mother. Right? Tell me I'm right, please.

I'm leaving Friday morning, and between now and then I'll be scouring my closet to find acceptable clothing for a weekend where no one will smear greasy fingers on me. My friend told me not to get off that plane if I do not have sequins in my bag. Can't wait.

paying it forward

2010-03-29T08:42:00.000-04:00

I mentioned last week that I really hate asking for help, but as part of my resolution to be happier and improve my life, I've vowed to ask for help when I need it. And this winter in particular, I have DEFINITELY needed help. We have been struck down with more illnesses than I can count. Ear infections and stomach flus and ear infections and bronchiolitis and ear infections and coughs and ear infections and runny noses and ear infections and a couple of sore throats thrown in for good measure. It has made for a crummy winter, and lots of tissue purchases, antibiotics, night wakings, and sleepless nights.

Whining isn't the point of this post, though. I've decided to ask for help, and that means when my friend asks if she can pick anything up at the store for me, I say YES. For the first time ever, I said yes. We needed diapers and I was going to bundle the kids up in the car and drag them to the store and wipe the noses and cart the sad limp kids inside, so instead I told her I desperately needed diapers and thanked her profusely and left it at that. And rather than feel guilty about asking for the diapers, I just accepted the idea that she didn't mind getting the diapers and perhaps felt like she was doing a good deed and I was certainly grateful.

So a few days later, when my neighbor said she had to take her own sick kids to the store because she needed milk, I insisted on getting it for her when I went to Target that afternoon. She did the whole, "no, it's okay, don't worry about it, I couldn't, etc." but I insisted and she said thank you and was thrilled when I showed up with the milk later that afternoon.

Let's call it paying it forward or being a normal human being who accepts help, but it felt good. I like this new resolution, and I think it is going to improve all of our lives.

gabrielicious

2010-03-24T08:16:00.000-04:00

You know how you have a new puppy, and since they're so small and cute you let them climb on your lap and on the couch, and then the baby puppy starts to grow and soon they are too big for your lap and certainly too big for the couch. But the puppy doesn't yet know they are growing too big for your lap, so they fling themselves onto your lap and have no idea they are crushing you. And they do all these crazy puppy things but in the meantime, they are all long legs and giant paws and cuteness.

Gabe is that puppy.

He is so big and so funny and so sweet and adorable and delicious and brilliant, and he totally doesn't know he is all arms and legs and giant feet and HEAVY. He picks out a book and then throws himself onto my lap, even though he is hanging off all over the place. I arrive at the door of his preschool and he runs full force into my arms and knocks me over. He snuggles into my arms and asks to be carried up the stairs and begs me to crawl into bed with him and give him kisses. At the pediatrician the other day, after observing Gabe for a few minutes, he said, "well, he is certainly passionate for you."

And I am beyond crazy about him. Every day I fall more and more in love with him, and it takes all my self control not to swallow him whole, and I threaten to do so all the time, just so he can't leave me anymore. Today I put together the tuition deposit for him next year. He'll be attending a Montessori school five days a week, and it kills me just a little bit that we'll be apart for so much time. I'm thrilled for him, and I have the feeling that he is going to flourish in the Montessori environment (although I'm intimidated by the intensity). He's my baby, though, and I have these moments where I realize we are so close and he still adores me and thinks I am the coolest person ever. We sat together and watched a Disney movie and he asked me to sing along because he loved hearing me sing. You guys, how could I not adore him?

when it rains, it floods

2010-03-22T19:37:00.002-04:00

Yes, that's right. Our basement "flooded". I say "flooded" because I think in comparison to lots of our neighbors, our measly inch of water was totally unimpressive. One of our neighbors got 3 feet of water in her totally finished basement, with flat panel televisions and couches and train tables and cabinets floating around.

On Monday, otherwise known as day 3 of nonstop record breaking rain, I came home from Gabe's school pickup to find a few puddles of water on the floor. I called Josh, who offered to leave work immediately to see where the leak was, and by the time he was home 45 minutes later, the puddles had spread to an allover low covering of water. I frantically began calling rental places and hardware stores looking for a pump or a wet vacuum and everywhere had sold out hours before. Everyone I called said the number of wet basements in our area was unprecedented, and I started to panic. I had no idea what we were going to do with all of this water, and I didn't know how bad it was going to get because it seemed to be rising fast.

I continued calling stores all across Massachusetts and eventually found a small hardware store who said they were just receiving a shipment of sump pumps and wet vacuums and there was a line of 80 people, but we were welcome to come stand in line and hope for the best. I begged them to put aside a vacuum, I even offered to pay in advance, and they refused, so I shoved Josh out the door and told him to break all speed limits and not to come back without a vacuum.

While he was driving, I called that same store back at 5 minute intervals (they must have loved me) and kept up a running status report on the remaining vacuums. Josh made it in time, returned home with our bounty, and spent the rest of the day and night- from 3pm to 11pm- filling and emptying the wet vacuum without any breaks. He estimated he must have been filling the vacuum about two times per minute (so every 30 seconds), without stopping. It was INSANE.

Thankfully, his hard work seemed to pay off, and he kept the water from rising beyond the one inch mark. At several points during the day, he was vacuuming the water and I was using cups and dust pans to scoop the water into buckets and then dump them into the downstairs sink. The water was coming in through the actual concrete, though, so there was no way to stop any leak or tell where it was coming from. The backyard and street were totally flooded, and any little crack in the foundation allowed water to pour in, and even areas where there was no visible crack had water seeping through the ground.

Josh fell asleep for a few hours before tackling the water again in the morning. Once the rain stopped sometime during the night, the water stopped rising and we were able to start the drying process.

Our basement is a semi-finished playroom (wall paneling and linoleum tiles) and almost all of our toys are downstairs, so as the water began to rise, it was a race to remove all unpacked boxes, toys, bins, etc. Thankfully, our favorite bookcases saved all the toys and I store most of the kid's clothing and our items in plastic bins. We still moved everything out, just in case, especially because I am beyond terrified of mold.

We're airing everything out, running fans and dehumidifiers like crazy, and hoping for the best. Most of the basement is the wood paneling and concrete walls, but there are a few spots where the drywall got wet, and I'm terrified mold might set in and we'd have to rip everything out. Besides seeing the actual mold spores, does anyone know how you can tell/make sure there is no mold? Will it be obvious? If the water was there for less than 24 hours and we've been running the fans and dehumidifier since, do you think we're safe?

Despite the inconvenience, I still consider us extremely lucky as I drive around our neighborhood and see the countless hoses leading out of basements and into the street with a steady stream of water pouring out. My neighbors say that in 26 years they've never seen anything like it, so here's hoping it'll be another 26 years before it happens again. I'm just thankful we hadn't installed carpeting yet! We almost did it a few weeks ago!

no is the new yes

2010-03-17T09:45:00.000-04:00

Since I'm sharing all my dirty secrets, I might as well talk about the guilt side of me.

I hate letting people down. I guess everyone says that, but I have serious issues around this one. I won't say no to favors or requests, and I also will very rarely ask for or accept help. Even when it makes no sense. I'll be juggling both kids by myself at the store and need to run to the bathroom, but if a friend offers to hold Josie or watch Gabe so I don't have to take both of them into the stall with me, I'll always say no because I feel funny about asking for help. Even if it means I end up frustrated and sweaty and angry about having to hold Josie and yell at Gabe to STOP TOUCHING THINGS in the stall. If my in laws or a friend offer to do something, I'll say no or tell them it isn't necessary, even though I'm desperate for the help.

I don't know why I do this, but lately I'm making more of an effort to say no to some requests, ask for help, tell the truth about how I'm feeling. I'm slowly coming to the realization that when people offer their help, they sometimes genuinely want to help, and when I occasionally say yes, people are genuinely pleased to be of help to me. Plus, it isn't fair for me to expect people to read my mind and then be annoyed when they don't help me.

Last month, my in-laws asked me to bring the kids to Florida for a weekend in April. Unfortunately, that weekend happens to be the same weekend I was going to visit my parents in California. No problem, they said, fly to Florida from Boston for the weekend, then fly to California, then fly back to Boston (by myself). I actually did this last year, for the same reason. I flew to California, then had to get on a 6am flight with both kids (alone, of course) to fly to Florida, then flew back to Boston alone. And it was HORRIBLE. Seriously, terrible, awful, horrendous. Remind me to tell you about it another time- my eye is twitching just remembering the 6am flight alone.

As soon as they asked, my knee jerk reaction was to say yes. Of course we'll come, I am always happy to make the grandkids accessible, and I am generally flexible and willing to travel and I haven't had too much trouble with both kids on planes. As the days started to go by, though, and Josie continued getting ear infections, and both kids seemed to be perpetually sick, I found my anxiety over the whole flying-to-Florida-for-the-weekend-and-then-continuing-on-to-California thing increasing. Exponentially.

I kept envisioning these scenarios where I'd be alone on the plane and Josie would be in pain from her ears, or having to take her to an emergency room while we were in Florida, or not realizing she had an ear infection before boarding the flight, or being up all night with one or both of them alone, and my eye would start twitching in anticipation. I've never said no to the grandparents, though, and starting now would be really hard.

I decided to float the idea. I tentatively mentioned that I wanted to hold off on buying tickets to see if the kids stopped getting sick. I mentioned that I was having a lot of stress around the whole traveling thing. I said flying in for one weekend and then flying back out and adding extra flights into the mix was maybe not the best idea. I made it clear how many ear infections Josie has been getting and why I was nervous. And then I waited. In the meantime, I changed my mind approximately 87 times over whether to go or not.

I want to be the good daughter in law, I want to be flexible, I want the grandkids to get to see each other and for the grandparents to enjoy their grandkids. But I also want to be fair to myself, fair to my children, make reasonable decisions that make everybody happy. I don't want my kids to suffer just because I hate to disappoint people.

So after 2 months of teetering on the edge, I called my mother in law and said we wouldn't be coming. I told her I didn't want to disappoint them or let them down, but I laid out all my worries and told her I just couldn't do it this year. I'd be happy to bring them out to their house in the Berkshires before and after and I'd even be happy to fly to Florida in late Spring or Summer, but I just couldn't do this one particular weekend. I had to just say no, and I did it myself rather than let Josh do it and let me off the hook.

If they were angry, they did a good job of hiding it. No one has made any comments about us not going beyond the "we wish you were coming" variety, and no one has expressed any belief that I'm being unreasonable by not going. The sky didn't fall in on me, everyone survived, and the weight on my shoulders was lifted instantaneously.

It is going to sound funny, but I'm actually proud of myself. This is who I am, and I don't want to be a totally different person, but I do want to change this side of me a little bit. This was a small step, but for me, it was a significant step and it took days of talking myself up before I was able to make the call and weeks of deciding before I finally said no.

I might even let someone help me pee without juggling two kids in a tiny stall. See how I live dangerously?

no wonder my laundry pile is taller than Gabe

2010-03-15T09:10:00.001-04:00

Our new town isn't that far from our old town, but it feels decidedly different. I joke that we are now in the middle of noooooowhere (picture me saying this in a pathetically moaning voice) because I can't walk to a mall, sushi, or an ice cream shop. The ice cream shop part was particularly devastating to me, but perhaps that'll be helpful to my waistline come summer.

The neighborhood definitely feels like the suburbs, with tons of kids playing hockey in the streets, moms out walking with strollers, and even sightings of random animals like rabbits, deer, and foxes. Josh left the garage door open to run to the grocery store and as he was pulling back in, a massive animal strolled out of the garage and he swears he initially thought it was a small bear but it turned out to be the mother of all raccoons! It caused so much excitement that Gabe hasn't stopped talking about animals in his garage for weeks. Any random noise in the house is cause for a resurgence of the talk about the gigantic raccoon.

Even though our move was just a few miles, my circle of stores has completely changed too. My old grocery store is too far away to be convenient, my old favorite mall is now farther away than another less liked mall, my coffee shops, drugstores, Target, well, you get the point. It all feels like a big change. And I'm farther away from some of my neighborhood friends. Not so far that we can't have lunch together, but too far to stop by within 5 minutes for a quick playdate.

All of this is to say, it has been a change. Far more of a change than I'd initially expected, that is for sure. After my initial freak out, things have been steadily improving. The folks at my local convenience store recognize me, which feels great, my neighbors say hello when I drive by, which feels even nicer, and I've decided that I won't sit and wallow in my unhappiness for one. more. minute.

I am a friendly person, but to tell you the truth, I also get very insecure about meeting new people. I don't seem to have a problem with the meeting part, but any subsequent get togethers or communications brings out the anxiety in me. If I call them and don't hear back quickly, I worry that maybe they've decided they don't like me anymore, or maybe I'm bothering them or whatever. It is totally annoying and sometimes ridiculously insane that I do this.

Take, for example, a newish friend I've made since moving. We have definitely clicked, and just a few days ago she asked whether I'd be interested in taking a girls trip together this summer. I take that to mean that (a) she likes me enough to want to spend a good amount of time together and (b) she plans to be friends at least until the summer. Well, yesterday I called her twice in a row, and then decided not to call even though I had something to tell her because I worried maybe she was starting to not want to be friends anymore. It's crazy, right?

I'm revealing all my neuroses now, hopefully you won't stop reading me because now you know the truth about the crazy.

Anyway, long story short, I've decided to move past the crazy and break out of my shell and try to make friends in the new neighborhood, even if it makes me uncomfortable. I've shown up to town events, I've been friendly, I've shared my phone number, been proactive about asking for playdates. As soon as we had a couple of good weather days, I've walked around my neighborhood to try to make friends with neighbors. I joined a playgroup. I asked around and started a book club, and our first meeting is this Sunday. This is our chosen book (love it love it love it), and I'm really excited and hopeful this will take off. I've gotten off the couch after Josh is home from work and the kids are in bed and gone to see a movie or grabbed coffee with a girlfriend.

For a homebody like me, this is seriously difficult, but I believe it will be worth it in the end. I have some really really REALLY fabulous friends, but most of my friends live far enough away that I can't see them on a regular basis, and I really need a few good local friends to spice up my life.

So do you have any tips? Have you had to break out of your shell and make friends too? Did anything bring you luck? I'll take all the advice I can get!

rain would be a better match for our moods

2010-03-11T13:02:00.003-05:00

When it rains, it pours.

We've been heading steadily downhill from my post on Monday. Josie's breathing has continued to be challenged and we took another trip to the pediatrician on Tuesday morning when I set her down on the ground and she flopped over and lay there like a wet noodle. She wouldn't even move her hands, but kept moaning piteously and sobbing. This time they tried two breathing treatments and looked her over again, but couldn't achieve any improvement. Her fevers hovered steadily around 103 degrees, with slight fluctuations around the Tylenol and Motrin doses. She did have one massive coughing fit that seemed to clear her up slightly, but the day was definitely awash in sickness.

Wednesday morning, she woke up crying and I spotted a welt on her neck. Huh, I thought, how did she get that? And then she turned her head and she had another welt in the same spot on the other side of her neck. Very odd, I said to myself. I peeled off her pajamas and BAM. Hives. Everywhere. I spent a few minutes checking over the hives and then picked her up to grab her toothbrush from the bathroom and walked in to find Gabe with an opened bottle of antibiotic poured onto the bathroom countertop and spilled all over him.

Another emergency trip to the pediatrician for both of them. I asked the front desk nurses if they might consider renting us a room for the rest of the week. It would be easier than shuttling the kids back and forth, for sure!

Gabe was cleared of any type of overdose, and Josie was diagnosed with an allergy to Amoxicillin. Her bronchiolitis seemed slightly improved, although her hives were quickly getting worse. A new prescription, dosage instructions for Benadryl, and we were on our way.

The rest of yesterday, though, continued to be awful. Josie's fever kept jumping up to 104 any time she wasn't being continuously dosed with Tylenol or Motrin, and she would barely move. I carried around her sad little moaning self all day, and Gabe whined about wanting to play outside and enjoy the weather.

Today is much of the same, with Josie looking particularly monstrous. Her face is totally deformed from the hives around her eyes and neck, and now her hands and feet and legs and back are totally covered as well. She won't let me put her down and just cries to be held and comforted and nursed. It breaks my heart, and I feel badly for Gabe also because it's clear he is desperate for some attention.

This has only been going on since Sunday, and I've had so many moments of wanting to collapse into a bucket of tears. I don't know how parents with seriously ill kids do it. I really don't. This whole experience has reinforced for me the knowledge that nothing makes you more grateful for your health than a rough time like this one. There is nothing like bad health to plunge you into a depression or sour mood.

Here's to hoping Josie is feeling better soon. I'd love to get her out of the house and have some human contact for all of us. The pediatrician said it could take weeks for the bronchiolitis to improve, but to that answer, I'm plugging up my ears and screaming "NAH, NAH, NAH, NAH, NAH, I can't hear you!"

sick babies and whiny moms

2010-03-08T19:32:00.003-05:00

Josie had a fever last night, but a low one, just under 100 degrees. This morning she woke up with the same fever, but also some extra congestion and a cough. This is totally typical Josie, though, so I didn't pay much attention, but when I arrived at Gabe's school to drop him off, the director told me Josie sounded terrible and she thought I should take her to the doctor. I was surprised, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry, so I made an appointment for noon.

I took her with me to my annual OB/Gyn appointment (super fun, as always) and by the time we were driving to her appointment, she'd visibly drooped. I lifted her out of the car and noted that she felt hot, and her cough was a little more dramatic. We got settled into our appointment, the nurse discovered she now had a temperature of 103, and when I took off her shirt to cool her down, we both watched her little chest struggling for breath.

Wow. If watching your tiny, sweet, baby struggle to breathe isn't the shittiest feeling ever, I don't know what is.

A flurry of activity ensued, with doctors and nurses and physician's assistants all running in and out of the room suggesting courses of treatment, and all the while the minutes were ticking away and I knew I needed to pick up Gabe at 12:30pm. Finally, they decided to let me go pick up Gabe, come right back, give her a breathing treatment, see if it worked, and go from here.

I rushed to pick up Gabe, we returned for our breathing treatment, and fortunately, or unfortunately, she didn't improve. According to the doctors, her not improving with Albuterol is actually a plus for her future chances of not developing Asthma as she gets older. She also has an ear infection and is going on antibiotics, so we opted not to get her a chest x-ray because even if she has pneumonia, the antibiotics would treat it along with the ears. We left after what felt like a lifetime, with a long list of instructions for bronchiolitis and the ear infection, and a hope that she would feel better very soon.

Today has been a struggle for both of us. She ate a decent dinner, and then threw it up all over herself and me, and most of the day was spent with her wheezing and clearly struggling to breathe, lots of moaning and crying and laying around sadly on her part , and lots of sympathy and frustration on my part. Bedtime was the worst, and I spent 1/2 an hour in the shower (on Chatty Cricket's suggestion) holding her up to the steam and hoping it might help. It took an hour of rocking and singing and rocking and singing and nursing and patting and finally exhaustion took hold.

Ugh. What a day. I'm hoping she'll sleep through the night, and doubly hoping she feels better tomorrow.

growing up- all of us

2010-03-08T09:47:00.001-05:00

I'll admit it, I do not like baking with the three year old crowd.

I get frustrated. I get annoyed. I want to limit what he does and how he does it, I worry about kid germs on licked fingers, I stress over the flour flying all over the floors, and that does not make for a happy or fun experience. It isn't the way I want to spend my time with Gabe. I want him to grow and experience and have a great time.

Today we went to check out a summer camp for Gabe, and one of the activities the kids were undertaking (it is a regular preschool during the year) was baking. They made brownies, and the teachers were very liberal with what they thought the children were capable of doing. They even handed Gabe an egg and told him to crack it into the bowl.

I was fairly shocked as I watched them let the kids crack the eggs, measure and pour the oil, dump the brownie mix into the bowl. I would never give him that much freedom, but all the kids were able to do what they'd been asked. It made me realize I really need to loosen up, let go a little, try to enjoy the process without being such a tense mess during the baking.

Part of my Happiness Project is to enjoy life with my children more. I'm trying to step outside of my regular schedule and do interesting, educational, and enjoyable things with them. We're baking more (despite my true feelings on the subject), I'm taking them to museums (ALONE EVEN!), I'm being more playful and positive on a daily basis.

I want them to remember these days as GOOD days, I want them to remember their mom as FUN (strict, but fun), I want their childhood memories to be HAPPY. After all, this is the only childhood they will ever have. This is my one and only chance.

So if you need me, I'll be over here baking. Gritting my teeth, and baking.

mean mommy

2010-03-05T10:20:00.000-05:00

Last night was a serious milestone in my parenting career.

I sent my son to bed without dinner.

GASP.

I know, it was a little harsh, but I'd really had it, and he was doing the whole three year old pushing buttons thing, not listening thing, blatantly disregarding your requests thing, and I warned him, and warned him again, and told him the consequences of his actions, and started to repeat myself for the fifth time and then I had this moment of clarity where I stepped back from my life and asked myself, "what the fuck are you doing?"

So I stood up, told him dinner was over, picked up his plate, ushered him upstairs with little fanfare and got him ready for bed. I told him I was sorry he couldn't listen and I was sorry he wouldn't get to eat dinner, and I was especially sorry he wouldn't get to play with his daddy, and I loved him but didn't like his behavior and I hoped tomorrow would be a better day. I hugged him, kissed him goodnight, and walked out the door.

That was it. And it felt... well... pretty good.

I feel like for the last few weeks, I've been angry all the time. Frustrated, annoyed, short on patience, and just plain mad at the kids. They are pushing buttons and being difficult and testing the limits and being really, totally, spectacularly ANNOYING. But that isn't a reason for me to be so angry, for me to be screaming all the time, for me to feel like my head is going to pop off. Something had to change, and I've decided to do something about all of this anger before I end up in therapy for anger management or a neighbor called child protective services because of all the yelling going on over here.

I read a book, I read another book, and another book, and I took your advice and started a chore/positive rewards chart, and things have been going much, much, MUCH better. 10,000 times better. We have had 7 consistent days of happy and sweet and mostly great kids. There are still moments where I have to take a breather, or where I do a bit of raised voice speaking, but I feel in control of myself. I am not having ridiculous fantasies about smacking my kids or watching the clock and counting down until naptime/bedtime or calling Josh weeping and hysterical.

I'm keeping calm and staying positive and even when the kids are being a willful three years or a tantruming fourteen months, I can step back and see some good options for how to handle the drama without resorting to screaming and timeouts. Best of all, I'm not angry, and I'm not stuffing my face with cookies because of all the anger. I'm okay. Frustrated at times, but peaceful.

And that, my friends, is priceless. I may just be able to do this parenting thing after all.

Who me?

apparently I'm a community supportive glutton for punishment

2010-03-04T10:19:00.000-05:00

We've done the whole community supported agriculture thing before, and as I mentioned last year, I wasn't the hugest fan. I know it isn't a popular stance to take, but I still remember how much I disliked washing those dirty vegetables and coming up with ideas for unknown veggies and making the drive to pick up our box. I wanted to be a supportive and active member in my community, but apparently, I have my limits.

So I'm doing it all over again.

I signed up for another share at another farm. Hopefully this particular farm will provide us with more of the vegetables we actually like to eat, and they even let you specify a "no like" list. I'll definitely be telling them I do NOT like to receive 79 turnips at one time.

This year, though, I am splitting the share with a friend, and I am thrilled about this. We will alternate weeks of pickup, split the boxes of food, and I'm hoping this will lessen the load and make the whole experience more fun. Best of all, included in our share is a "pick you own" option throughout the summer, which means we'll be permitted to go to the farm to pick berries or beans or flowers. I have discovered that 3 year olds LOVE to pick fruits and vegetables, and I love the idea of him seeing where those fruits and vegetables actually come from (besides the supermarket, I mean).

Let's just hope the dirt and bugs don't get to me this time, or maybe I can come up with some kind of outdoor hosing off ritual. Do you think 3 year olds can learn to wash vegetables?

enough talk about sticking fingers in holes already

2010-03-02T10:02:00.001-05:00

We made peanut butter and jelly muffins last night (I know! Yum!), and it was an exercise in hilarity for Josh and me.

You have to make the peanut butter batter, then push a little hole into the center of the muffin, spoon in the jelly, and then put another glob of peanut butter batter on top. We got Gabe involved, and these were the comments that came out of our mouth, complete with uncontrollable snickering from Gabe's parents.

"You push your fingers in the hole and spread it."

"After you put your fingers in the hole, Daddy will stick the jelly in."

"Stop licking your fingers after putting them in the hole."

"It's too sticky in there."

"You stick your fingers in the middle, not on the sides."

And on, and on, and on.

This is a public service announcement, do not try to accomplish any cooking project like this with preteens or teenagers. It will not go well, I promise you that.

is a nice tan color too much to ask for?

2010-03-01T14:30:00.002-05:00

I'm trapped in paint selection hell. Ugh.

I'm reusing the dining room color and the living room color, so at least those are chosen and I'm praying the colors look good in the new house or we are totally screwed.

Our old bedroom color looks crazy different in our new bedroom, so just redoing that color won't work. I tried color matching my bedroom throw blanket color to the wall color, but it ended up looking brown. Brown, like poop colored brown, and after just painting a tiny strip of the wall, the bedroom started to look like a dirt colored cave. Another trip to the paint store, and I'm not any closer to selecting a color.

Plus, once I select all the colors, I'll be doing the vast majority of the painting on my own, and roping Josh in whenever I can convince him to help. I am not looking forward to all of this painting, but frankly, it's time. I have been resisting hanging up pictures or shelves or curtains because we are waiting for the walls to be painted, and these piles of pictures or boxes leaning against the walls really are not making this place feel like home. I need to bite the bullet and get it over with, and hopefully the painting process won't be as bad as I am anticipating it to be.

Any painting tips before I take the plunge?

people I'm totally judging but trying to pretend not to judge

2010-02-23T23:40:00.005-05:00

1. Scene: At the grocery store, trying to manage one of those massive carts with the child-friendly automobiles attached to the front of them. Do you know which ones I'm talking about? They are like 15 feet long and difficult to maneuver, but the kids love them with a burning passion.

My cart was particularly loaded up with groceries and I am trying to wrestle it through the aisles. Anyway, I ended up ACCIDENTALLY bumping into the back of this elderly woman's leg as I'm trying to get into the cashier aisle. But seriously, it was a GENTLE BUMP. Regardless, I was MORTIFIED and apologized approximately 17 times (not exaggerating), and she huffed and puffed and REFUSED TO LOOK AT ME OR ACCEPT MY APOLOGY. It was to the point that I actually gave her a minute, and then again walked around the cart to try to touch her arm and apologize again, sincerely, and she turned her back to me. And then when I went around to her other side, she turned her back to me again. And then did it a third time and she kept turning her head to avoid making eye contact. I had no idea what to do because I felt super guilty, but at the same time, I was pretty pissed because HELLO! It was an accident! I'm saying sorry and being sincere about it and you are being so rude! I actually switched to the aisle next to hers where she would have to look at me and kept watching her and she spent the majority of time paying with her back partially to the cashier just so she wouldn't have to acknowledge me. Wow.

2. Scene: At a playdate sponsored by our town's mother's group.

I'm chatting with a woman in our new neighborhood, and discovering all these things we have in common. Ages of kids, home towns, backgrounds, and I'm getting excited that we can hang out! Have playdates! New friends! Anyway, at one point I comment on how much hair her daughter has, because seriously, she has as much hair as me and she is only a couple of months older than Josie (who has NO HAIR). The mom starts saying that her daughter was born with this much hair, and she has to do it every day, and then she says, "Yes, she sleeps with hot rollers every night." I was totally confused at this point, because, um, what? I thought maybe she was referring to herself and I misunderstood, but further conversation confirmed that yes, it is indeed the 17 month old who sleeps with hot rollers every night. All night long. The explanation is because "her hair is too flat and limp and needs shape." Oh, okay.

3. Scene: Playdate at a girlfriend's house.

I have this girlfriend (whom I generally love) and she often makes comments about how her hair is sooooo straight and lacks body and how she can't do anything with it. Often in these same conversations, she will sort of indirectly criticize my hair, but in this strange way where I'm often left wondering if she is trying to compliment me and it is coming off badly, or whether she really is criticizing it. The thing is, I don't have many complaints about my hair (except for horrible haircuts, of which I've had a few). It is easy to care for, generally does what I want it to, and I think it is fairly nice. I wouldn't trade my hair with too many people, let's put it that way.

So the other day, she is again commenting on her hair and how it is so straight and so she doesn't bother to do anything with it and doesn't even dry it or anything, it always looks like this (and by the way, her hair always looks perfect, not too dissimilar from Jennifer Aniston, for example). A few minutes later, she offers to show me her something in her bedroom and we run upstairs and I happen to peek into her master bath and see, sitting on the counter, HER HAIR DRYER AND STRAIGHT IRON PLUGGED IN AND SEVERAL PRODUCTS lying out on the counter. Why? Why would you voluntarily lie about this?

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p.s.- I'm loving the idea of this positive reinforcement chart thing. I keep throwing around the idea, but couldn't figure out how to put it into action. I'm a concrete person and I kept wondering how many stars/stickers, how many opportunities should I offer, how do I decide what to reward him for, etc. This is my type-a personality shining through, huh?

p.p.s.- I actually laughed about the idea of Gabe being out of control. He is not out of control, but he is three and very active and testing. I mentioned to his teachers and a couple of friends my complaints and they all laughed because he is exceedingly easy and compliant the vast majority of the time. But when he is a three year old, phew, he likes to shine in his misbehavior. We had his parent-teacher conference this morning and they said he is fabulous. Shocking to me, but whatever. I'll take good news when I can get it.

maybe electric shock collars would work

2010-02-23T22:05:00.003-05:00

MY CHILDREN.
ARE TRYING.
TO KILL ME.

Okay, it's out there. I said it.

Whooooo boy. I am either going to run away from home, start drinking, or lose my everloving mind. And soon.

Gabe is on a three year old rampage. On Friday afternoon he spit at me, got sent to time out, took off his clothes, and peed on the time out step. I'm not even going to tell you what I did, and what I really wanted to do, but suffice to say, I really and truly feared for his well-being. That is how angry I was.

Josie is teething multiple teeth complete with blood blisters on her gums. She is a non-sleeping, screaming all the time, demanding to be catered to, utter disaster of a child. A lunatic who runs head first into everything and will not be contained.

And Josh is away on a business trip.

I have been humbled, and I am exhausted, and I put the children down at night and then come downstairs and try to calm the anger that has been building throughout the day while I am endlessly patient and understanding and loving.

I gave the ultimate punishment to Gabe tonight and he went to bed without his pacifiers. Josh actually gasped when I called to tell him. Punishment courtesy of him asking to take down his "special" toys, the train and semi-truck we bought for him in Prague at an outdoor market from a hand carving toy stand, where I spent hours poring over the toys and picking out the perfect toy for him and his future siblings. After playing with both toys for 10 minutes, he stomped on the train and broke off the wooden hand carved wheels, and then walked over and stomped on the semi-truck and broke the wooden HAND CARVED platform where the cars are carried.

I could cry, I'm so angry. I know they are just toys, and obviously we have our health and our home and everything is good and happy and all that, but WHAT THE FUCK? I am at a loss. I'm so tired and frustrated and angry and I don't know what to do anymore. I am stern, I am strict, I have firm limits. I am positive and happy and kind to my children and I model good behavior, and still. STILL.

I need a vacation. Or a valium.