I may never leave the house again

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

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.

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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?

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

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

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.