Eucalyptus Pillow

There came a time

2009-05-20T13:29:00.003-05:00

There comes a time when the lights are dimming, the shop is closing up and everyone loses interest in the scene. A shop owner knows when he's bleeding money and losing customers. That is when it's time to put up the CLOSED sign permanently.

Here's the time, my friends, when Eucalyptus Pillow has completed its job. It started a couple years ago as an outlet for me about my kids, about nursing, about my job, about home life, etc. Now there's more I need to write about. More than just about the kids. It's about evolving into someone else right now, discovering more about what I can offer to the world. So, this blog has outlived its purpose that way.

From now on, you can find me here. I hope you'll follow me.

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-10T10:58:00.002-05:00

Because I just don't know what else to say about my complicated, messy, loving, codependent relationship I have with my own mother, I had to post this video instead. A friend shared with us, and I'm passing it on. It's hilarious!

Happy Mother's Day to all my blogging mamas! May everyone do whatever the hell they want today.

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine

2009-05-08T09:38:00.005-05:00

I'm sitting here typing away at the computer and simultaneously staring out at another gray, gloomy day. When the hell is it going to be nice outside? I'm sick of long sleeves and long pants, slickers and raincoats, umbrellas and running through raindrops. I've just about worn out all indoor play options for Andrew and he is starting to talk to the wall. Or worse, incessantly saying "mama" over and over again. And is beginning to get this weird tick on the side of his face.

Anyway, my point is, I need a day in the backyard! I need a long, hot day in the garden while the kids are running through the sprinkler and getting their hands dirty in the sandbox. I need a tan. A day at the park. A day at the pool. I love summer. It's my most favorite season. I'm so ready. So bring it on already.

*****************************************************************************
So now that I've gotten that out of my system, I must congratulate the winner of the Rick Springfield CD giveaway contest! I had a totally official, drawing of the names ceremony with Andrew, and he drew the name: Heather! Heather, congratulations on winning the CD. You will receive it in the mail. Hope your little one will enjoy the new tunes.

Pressure people

2009-04-30T17:24:00.000-05:00

How well do you work under pressure? Do tell.

The WAHM: Pro vs Con edition

2009-04-24T19:56:00.003-05:00

Now that I've established my new getting-a-business-up-and-running-from-home-in-less-than-3-months gig since I got laid off (can you say crazy?), quality time with the kids has taken on a whole new meaning. Now you must know that I have been working outside the home before and after my first son was born and thereafter still. So go run and get the smelling salts, k?

Pros:
You get to see your child all day long.

Con:
Your child thinks you are the big toy that he/she can play with all day. And why not? You're home aren't you? Hooray, mommy's home!

Pros:
I no longer sit a few steps from a vending machine full of candy.

Cons:
I now live and work in the same home with a whole pantry full of food.

Pro:
I can sleep in if I want to.

Con:
No paid sick day for "sleeping in".

Pro:
I can facebook anytime I want.

Con:
I can facebook anytime I want.

Pro:
I no longer have to suffer fools in the office and during Christmas parties.

Con:
No more free booze at the Christmas parties.

Pro:
I no longer have to wear makeup or shower during the day if I don't want to.

Con:
I will smell.

Pro:
I no longer have to fight traffic in the car during rush hours.

Con:
Will somebody get me out of this effin' house!!

OK, so I actually like the work at home gig. But most of the day today had no rhythm, no mojo, no nothing. Just one incomplete task after another because a particular 3 year old was either constantly hungry, needed me to play with him, was tired, wanted to go outside, wanted to come inside, wanted to type on the computer, or just plain needed. Thank God for my friend Barb or I would not have completed anything today.

A precious little post: the new Rick Springfield CD

2009-04-20T10:45:00.002-05:00

I don’t usually do this sort of thing, but when the folks from Rocket Science contacted me about reviewing Rick Springfield’s new CD full of lullaby’s I thought it sounded kind of neat. I mean, anyone growing up in the 80s knows Rick Springfield, right?

So you’re like, Rick Springfield? Jessie’s Girl? A lullaby CD? Yep. And it’s good! What’s good about it is that it is soft, soothing, and when you’re done with the classics like Rock-a-bye baby (and why is the kid in the treetops?), it is a nice diversion. The first track, “Don’t Keep the Sandman Waiting” is the best, followed by a close second to the last song, “Up the Wooden Hills to Bedfordshire”, and track 3, “Another Rainy Night”. What’s also interesting about this CD is that these are all original songs. Yes, original. While most artists will re-do the classics, Rick Springfield’s new CD is full of all original songs written by him while his children were babies over 20 years ago. (Rick Springfield has kids over the age of 20? Man, we are all getting old.)

I must admit, these songs are also pretty adult-friendly, too. Regardless of the fact that the lyrics are for babies, they are likeable. The melodies are peaceful and warm, and the songs flow one right into another for a relaxing trip into dreamland. We all know how hard it can be to get a baby to calm down after a long day of stimulation, any soothing thing you can find helps! And you might just get relaxed, too!

The new CD is called “My Precious Little One” by Rick Springfield and is not in stores until May 5. So, I have one copy of this new CD to be given away to a lucky reader. Even if you don’t have a newborn or one on the way, perhaps there’s someone you know who would like it? Just leave your name and email in the comments. Contest will be going on for 2 weeks. Your name will be chosen at random. Good luck!

Celebrating the unknown and the infinite possibilities

2009-04-15T16:34:00.005-05:00

Thanks to everyone for such encouraging words both here, on facebook, email and in person for the recent turn of events. As I read over my post, it seemed a little dark, and I want to assure everyone that I'm doing OK, and while I know there will be challenging days ahead, as this week has progressed I've been feeling better and better about it. I think it's just a matter of moving forward sometimes without truly thinking hard enough about the current situation. When I think hard enough that's when I have the panic attacks. While I never was one of those incurable optimistic types, the time is now to adopt that kind of attitude. When you're starting your own business in an economy that has been dubbed a "depression" I think you need to be.

Quote for today (from woopidoo.com):
When you live your life with an appreciation of coincidences and their meanings, you connect with the underlying field of infinite possibilities.
-Deepak Chopra

Rebirth, reinvention...take your pick of "re's". It's time for me to have one.

2009-04-13T21:33:00.005-05:00

You know that saying, "This is the first day of the rest of your life"? Well, Friday was that day for me.

The day was cold and dank. Slightly sprinkling, it was a dreary spring day. In and out of the office most of the day, I walked back in the building in the afternoon with my sons and my husband to retrieve the last bit of my belongings from my cube. My boys helped me carry out the boxes, and I cried when we got into the car. But as we drove away and my husband put a gentle hand on my knee, we both knew they were tears for fear of the unknown, rather than for what was lost. I was happy to be leaving "corporate America". I am just scared for what is ahead. This had never happened to me before. He looked over at me and said, "Well Beez, look at this as the first day of the rest of your life."

Last month I was told at work that my position here in Columbus was eliminated. I worked as a production specialist for a marketing team. What that means is, I worked on collateral materials. Not brain surgery, but it put food on the table.

But I don't want to get into the job itself. This whole wretched experience of losing a job is about more than the job itself. It can feel like a failure of sorts. And a loss of identity. Evoking moments of imagining what a loser your kids and your husband must think you are that you can't provide for them anymore. It's like vacillating between moments of sheer panic and serenity. Moments of accepting what has happened and moving forward, to literally puking my guts out.

I notice that my oldest son, in times of change or crisis, gets very concerned about sustaining normalcy, with things like meals and laundry and who is dropping him off at school. When my husband was really sick last fall, he looked at me like I was an alien in the kitchen who couldn't muster up the where-with-all to put together a plate of mac 'n' cheese. Granted, I don't do the cooking, but I have noticed there is a deeply rooted relationship with his dad that represents a sense of security that I have no business treading into. My husband has been the stay at home dad for almost 3 years now, and with my job situation, it's likely going to change.

So where do I go from here? Stay at home mom? I wouldn't hesitate to say that the role of full time caregiver may be a ship that has sailed for me, but I would bet it will be one that will be fulfilled in some form or another over the coming months.

My husband is looking for work, and he said to me that he almost welcomes the thought of getting out of the house. Part of me thinks it may have been to assuage my feelings of hopelessness at the moment we were discussing the "next steps" of our situation. He'll be turning 50 years old next month, and I can't imagine someone who has been out of the active workforce for a while could be enthusiastic about the kind of prospects that are out there for employment. But, we continue to remain optimistic.

One thing I do know, is that I'm going to seize the opportunity to develop my new business, Revelry Press.

(**Shameless plug: http://revelry.etsy.com**)

I am going to give this business a try. It's something I've done before, and so it can certainly be something I can do again. It's just a little odd to be thrust into having to change things when you didn't ask for them to change. Even though a large part of me wanted change, wanted to get out of the daily rut of an unfulfilling job, the change can be scary. Like someone kicking you out of a nice comfy bed, even though you know sleeping your life away is bad for your health.

Ten years ago I would have thrived on this fear. Now, with a mortgage and 2 kids later, the fear is really that... fear.

(*Note: Photo above was taken by me in 1993 and the layered effect was done in camera... before Photoshop! I worked on this in college and printed it myself.
Specs: Ricoh manual camera, 52mm lens, Kodak T-Max 100 speed black and white film.*)

Grandma's Memories

2009-04-04T17:17:00.003-05:00

I was rummaging through my closet for something this morning, and found something completely unrelated to what I was actually looking for. Have you ever been looking for one thing, and found something else, and then you get so wrapped up in the thing you actually found that you totally forget the original thing? Following? Yeah it's called Adult-ADD.

Anyway, onto the point of my story.

In my closet this morning, buried deep in a box, I found this little book that my maternal grandmother had given me in 1995. It is a Q&A type of book about her life. It is so goddam fascinating. I hadn't read it in years. It's both an irreplaceable family heirloom, as well as a wonderful time capsule.

It's amazing to me that in a relatively short period of time in the earth's history, we have come from no running water and electricity to the major technological breakthroughs we experience, like right now, enjoying the internet. Other things that seem to be common experience right now for us all are overblown kids' birthday parties, too many cars, enormous houses, overpaid CEOs, greenhouse gases and texting. And I can't say these advances are something we can be proud about. (Except for the texting thing. That is pretty cool.)

Reading something like her memories can't help but make you long for the simpler times. Without the lack of running water part. But seriously, would your kid look at you like you were stark raving mad if you told him to go outside and shoot marbles? Only if it had a turbo-blast, electronically infused shooting tube that glowed in the dark would kids these days even give it a second thought. OK. I just used the phrase "kids these days." How sad is that.

Anyway, here's a sampling of some of the questions and her answers verbatim.

Q: Describe the best birthday you ever had. Why?
A: I don't remember celebrating birthdays, except my 16th. I met your grandfather.

Q: When you were given money, what did you spend it on? What could you buy for a quarter?
A: You could go to the movies for a quarter, but I never had any money of my own until I went to work.

Q: What was the naughtiest thing you ever did?
A: Smoked corn silk with some of the other neighborhood kids.

Q: What was the worst spanking or punishment you received and why did you deserve it?
A: My father threw me on the bed probably for getting in his way.

Q: What was your favorite outdoor activities?
A: Playing on the street corners with the other neighborhood kids and shooting marbles with my younger brothers and roller skating

Q: Did the kids ever tease you? What about? Why?
A: Yes they used to tease me because my parents were foreigners.

Q: What kind of appliances did you have to cook with, wash clothes and light the house?
A: We had oil lamps then we got electricity. We cooked on a coal stove in the winter and gas in the summer. We used a wash board then had a water power washer.

Q: Were you ever on a school team?
A: We didn't have sports for girls.

Q: What do you remember most about being a teenager?
A: Meeting my friends on Main Street and walking up and down while the boys were on the other side of Main Street.

Q: What attracted you to Grandpa the most?
A: He was always a lot of fun. And I guess I just needed someone to like me.

Q: What did you want to be when you grew up?
A: I always wanted to go on to school and be a teacher, but I didn't get to go to only 2 years of high school. (I was told by my mom later that when my grandmother was in school, she was pulled out by her parents so that she could help her mother out at home with the rest of the younger children.)

All of these answers were written by Rose Agnes Matty Cooper, 1913-2002. The 7th child out of 10, born to John and Anna Mattey in Zanesville, Ohio.

Craftastic!

2009-03-29T21:12:00.002-05:00

Guess what?? The craft fair is done! Read how much money we raised for the arts program at the school. Oh, and there's a bit about me, too.

Stress? Me? Nevah!

2009-03-20T13:02:00.002-05:00

I’d like to think of myself as someone who has a high capacity for stress. I try to keep a sense of humor, I try to constrain my knee-jerk reactions, I don’t crawl under the bedsheets for days and wallow in my own misery. I say this, because I think we all know someone who is like that. And we may all be a bit like that during PMS, but that’s another post.

Anyway, we know we can run circles around “those people”. But what happens when you think you’ve been become that part of the group of “those people”? Let me say first that I think we all have delusions of grandeur in ourselves that probably helps us function during times of crisis. Those times in life when we are literally about to burst, but through clenched teeth we’re like, “I’m fine, really I’m fine. Oh, the twitching? It’s a new form of exercise for me.”

It’s easy for us moms to put on that game face. We all know motherhood is not for wimps, so we’re seasoned stress-fighters. Work is not for wimps either, and if you’re a mom working outside the home or in the home, we need the game face for that business stuff, too. So what I’m leading up to here is that last time I looked in the mirror my game face was getting a little haggard. It’s looking angry and tired. It’s forgetting what play is next in the book; whether it’s a man-to-man defense or a fast break for the basket. I feel outnumbered on the court and with no coach on the sidelines telling me what to do.

I’m juggling a bit too many things right now with volunteer work, craft projects, job searching, a full-time day job, mothering; you know, same old same old I suppose. Usually I handle it with at least a little bit of aplomb, but this past week I’m stumbling. And people are getting affected in ways I didn’t want them to be. I’m not blogging much, not reading much, I’m kind of getting semi-paralyzed. It’s like multi-tasking on crack. So much to do, and don’t know where to start.

So can I please have some laughter? The air is heavy around me lately. I need that I-can-do-it attitude back. It’s necessary for my survival because crashing would just be so detrimental. So I’m asking you please, direct me to something funny soon before I lose all grip with reality.

Why Andrew is now "Owen"

2009-03-15T19:20:00.002-05:00

We attended a great workshop today! And met a great blogger in real-life, too.

Plane Funk

2009-03-11T11:28:00.002-05:00

Considering all that re-circulated air, close quarters with strangers and dirty seats, does anyone NOT get sick from a plane ride? About 99.9% of the time I have flown in a plane I get sick. It never seemed to bother me when I was a kid, with all those superbly youthful immunity genes dancing around in my system. Now, for me a plane ride is a certain equation for impending viruses. What I’d like to call, “plane funk.” (There's also a disturbing amount of "Jersey Shore Funk" gathering around the sand, as seen in the picture above!)

The wedding in NJ was great and my friend looked beautiful. But by 10pm I was ready for my pajamas and a hot cup of tea. Before the wedding, I couldn’t breathe through my nose, so I took a daytime Claritin. Note to readers: do NOT take a daytime Claritin if you plan to indulge in sleep anytime over the course of the next 24-36 hours. Forgive me if this seemed obvious to others. Apparently my desire for breathing caused a momentary lapse of logical brain synapses when it came to decision making.

Andrew was also dragging a bit during the trip until the very last day when he was all sprite and back to his normal self. He did great on both the plane rides, however was fairly homesick the entire time. Kept asking for Dada and CJ. Chopped liver (ahem) who he was with, apparently didn’t make the ranks of adequate comforting.

All I can say is home sweet home. We’re all closing in on normal in our house for now. And I’m so behind on blogging! Forgive me anyone who still reads this for my lack of commenting. My craft fair that I am coordinating at my son’s school is getting close: March 28th. There are about 99 things left to do in preparation for it, and I only have about 2 other volunteers to help me, no babysitter for the kids on that day, and an overflowing amount of vendors to make happy. I envision myself on March 29th sitting in the corner with an IV attached to a very large bottle of cabernet.

Safe at 30,000 feet

2009-03-06T09:29:00.001-05:00

We had a safe flight to NJ!

So did Elmo.

Quality time at 30,000 feet

2009-03-03T11:22:00.001-05:00

My fear of flying revealed. Take a peek.

Interview with CJ - 7 years old

2009-02-27T20:19:00.003-05:00

A real-life friend of mine, Alissa posted these questions to her sons and posted it on her facebook page. I thought it was such a great idea and loved the questions so much, that I had to copy the idea.

So here are the questions and his god-honest, verbatim answers. My observations are in the paragraphs.

1. What is something mom always says to you?
Hi

2. What makes mom happy?
When she gets home from work early

3. What makes mom sad?
When she gets fired (hmm, that's interesting for those of you who know the truth)

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
Tickling me

5. What was your mom like as a child?
She was an artist and a photographer (definitely a stretch)

6. How old is your mom?
37 (close, 38)

7. How tall is your mom?
Above five feet (5'5")

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
Spend time with me

9. What does your mom do when you're not around?
work

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
Doing 100 tasks in a half hour (I think I do that already)

11. What is your mom really good at?
Organizing the craft fair and tickling me

12. What is your mom not very good at?
Saying blah blah to her boss (I think the blah blah stands for cuss words)

13. What does your mom do for a job?
Goes to Chase

14.What is your mom's favorite food?
apple (clearly he is not aware of my obsession with french fries)

15. What makes you proud of your mom
that she makes money for our house

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
Jerry from Tom & Jerry

17. What do you and your mom do together?
everything

18. How are you and your mom the same?
hazel eyes and brown hair

19. How are you and your mom different?
She’s older and has weird teeth (I would beg to differ on this one considering he has some missing right now)

20. How do you know your mom loves you?
She says it

21. What does your mom like most about your dad?
That he kisses her a lot

22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
home (true)

When gas passes

2009-02-26T13:24:00.004-05:00

I have just found my most favorite way to describe farting.

Yesterday, when Andrew was eating a cup of pudding, apparently it set off some gas bombs in his stomach which then promptly exited. He was telling me the tale when I got home from work and said:

"My belly go boom."

The Big Boy Bed

2009-02-23T19:45:00.008-05:00

This weekend we reached another milestone for a little toddler's life. We took down the crib. No real reason for choosing this weekend, or this moment or this actual time to move him from crib to big-boy bed, just a feeling that he was ready. Maybe I was more ready than him. Either way, the crib is down. And not one tear was shed. Nada. Zilch. In fact, it validated that I'm absolutely satisfied with 2 kids and ready to keep moving forward. While I was a little nostalgic, it was fun to see his excitement for getting his own big bed. But in no way will I ever miss assembling that sucker ever again.

Next stop (hopefully!): using the potty like a big boy. I am MORE than ready for that.

The proud 3 year old posing with his new bed:

******************************
On another note, check out the House of Revelry for a great project I did over the weekend with a cool group of ladies.

2009-02-18T14:46:00.003-05:00

Wordless Wednesday

Sounds

2009-02-17T14:42:00.000-05:00

While lost in thought walking back to the office building after a hurried lunchtime full of errands, there was a sound that stopped me in my tracks. It brought me back to a place from a long time ago.

It’s very windy this afternoon. The type of wind that seems to clear out all the funky smells in the air to give it a crisp, fresh aroma. In front of the building, there is a very tall flagpole, and the flag fiercely snapped back and forth as if being caught in a tug of war. Between the snapping of the flag, there was also the rat-tat-tatting of the rope banging against the metal pole. It was this sound that stopped me. Rat-tat-tat-t-tat-tat-t-tat.

When I was a kid, I grew up in a town near the Jersey shore. There was a river that spilled into the Atlantic on one side of our boundaries. On this river, there was a marina with an adjacent park, where in the summer it would host fireworks on the fourth of July and in the winter host ice boaters if it was cold enough. I spent many hours at this park when I was a kid. A place to hang out for endless hours with friends, a place to sneak cigarettes, watch the boats go by, dream of owning one of the mansions across the river, and dangling over the edge of the pier counting all the white jellyfish in August. Being that the park is on the water, there is usually some wind blowing things around. And so usually I could always count on a familiar rat-tat-tat of the flag pole in the park to know where I was: Marine Park. I can’t help but think of boring days mulling around a park as a kid when I hear that sound. Ah, the be “bored” again.

Usually smells are what bring back the most memories for me. The smell of pencils makes me think of my dad’s basement office, the smell of coconut reminds me of being at the beach with mom in the summer (from the Coppertone), and fresh cut grass reminds me of times spent at my grandparents house in the country. But there are also sounds that seem to alter the mood for briefs periods:

• Any song by The Doors brings me right back to high school
• Ocean waves calm me
• The pop of a cork brings happiness
• Waterfalls make me think of my grandparents house
• The dribble of a basketball on a court in a gym brings me back to 8th grade in an instant
• The opera Turandot makes me cry

I was once asked if, given the horrible possibility of losing either your sight or your hearing, which would it be. When I really thought about it, the answer surprised me. As much of a visual person that I am, I don’t think I could live without sound around me. Of course, maybe I could get a hearing aid, which seems more plausible than new eyes to see. But what do I know. The debate is nonsensical. Thank God I have both. All I know, is that I could not live without these sounds, both grand and small, rhythmic and irregular.

A little bragging never hurt anybody

2009-02-11T17:09:00.004-05:00

I’ve been feeling a bit of writer’s block lately, constricted by the daily grind and a little anxiety about things I have on my slate. But there’s always time to brag about your kids, so here goes.

WARNING: GRATUITOUS BRAGGING AHEAD

We received a letter from my child’s school district that based on recent test scores he is going to be considered for the gifted program within his school for his aptitude with reading. So he will still be tested again over the course of the next few months, at which time they will assess his abilities and decide whether they will place him in the program, which starts next year in 2nd grade. We told him about the letter and he was genuinely excited. More accurately, about as excited for something he has very little knowledge of, which is understandable. He loves reading so much. Can’t get enough of it. He may like it as much as TV. Or playing computer games. Or… well, it doesn’t sound like he does too much reading does it? But he really does. But my true feelings on this news is that I’m so proud of him that he even was considered for the program. While I hope he gets in, it almost doesn’t matter in the long run. Just the fact that he was considered seems to be pleasing in itself. Clearly, he has inherited his father’s genes for giftedness in school as he was also in a gifted program at his elementary school. Me, well, I wasn’t exactly gifted in school. Success in school work was clearly not my destiny. Let’s just say some favorite words my teachers used to describe me were,

“Really bright, but careless…”
“Charming, but underachieving…”
“Talented, but talks too much in class…”

Well, you get the picture. I could usually charm my way into at least a “C+” when the teacher would give me that look like, “You know damn well you don’t deserve this, but you’re a good kid, so…”. My grades were usually B’s and C’s. I guess I had other priorities. I was good at other things. Like sports. Art. Bike riding. Daydreaming. Ice skating. And talking in class. My seventh grade teacher, Sister Eleanor, divided up the class in rows by conduct. The “A” kids started in the left row until you got all the way over to the “F” row of kids on the right. I sat in the last seat of the “F” row. Catholic school does wonders for your self-esteem.

So back to my son. What’s exciting to me about him being considered for this program is that he is equally talented in so many other things, too. Like building things. Joke telling. Being safe. Completing puzzles. Taking pictures. Admiring old artifacts and appreciating history. At the latest parent-teacher conference, his teacher glowed with excitement on telling us how much she enjoys having him class, how much she enjoys his sense of humor, how attentive he is and how obedient. And we told her how much he loves school. He loves it so much he wishes school was on the weekends. This is why I’m writing this post. I must get this recorded in some form for future use, “I love school so much I wish it were on the weekends.” Yes. A good bribe for later on.

I love hearing about the simple wants and pleasures of his little life. Wouldn’t it be nice if this age with our kids lasted forever?

Denim, Converse and Pleather

2009-02-06T09:30:00.003-05:00

So I asked a colleague one day, who always wears a suit to work, “Why do you bother?” The management team is in New York and we never have any in-person meetings with anybody important. Her response was, “Well, it’s the only clothes I’ve got, so it's just easier.” Only clothes I’ve got. Easier? Hmmmmm. So here I am, at the end of our conversation, imagining a long rack of woven wool and polyester, in black, tan and grey organized by color with matching shirts and shells in a long walk-in closet lined with cedar walls. (I know, my imagination goes on overdrive sometimes.)

And so I got to thinking how I would hate if suits were my daily uniform. On days that I work from home I hardly shower. While I’m supposed to maintain a corporate presence in my day job at the office, I don’t wear suits. I only wear suits when I have important meetings, or when an important manager is coming to town. I have 3 to choose from in my closet that are right now collecting dust. On a daily basis, I dress as minimally corporate as possible. Pants and button-down shirt combos. In my closet there are jeans, and lots of them. The best fitting ones, of course, which take years to track down. Every woman knows that, even if you don’t have the extra money to spend, if you come across a pair of jeans that fit right, you will go into debt to pay for them. You may even sell a kidney. And other things that are in my closet have elastic waistbands. And fleece. And cotton. A few pieces of wool for those 7 degree days, and then a shoe rack hanging on the closet door with about 10 pairs of shoes all ranging from my black converse sneakers to my pleather work shoes.

I’ve never been a fashion trendsetter, although I appreciate a really stylish outfit on someone else. But I lack the ability to make it happen for myself. I usually look at the mannequin to guide me. I am not daring at all with my clothes. And my taste seems to vary with the wind. One day I feel preppy, the next I feel punk. I can’t seem to nail down a real fashion sense that represents me. But perhaps that IS who I am. Undecided. Multiple layers. A veritable contradiction. But for the sake of not wasting money, I really do wish I could just nail down a personal image. But there’s a lot of different “people” that make up my day: the employee, the suburbanite mother, the crafter, the writer. They all seem to require a different uniform for some reason. I guess there's a part of me that feels like I can't dress the same way I dress when I go to the White Stripes concert, as when I take the kids to the park. Is this stupid?

But there was a moment in the 80s when I seemed to absolutely have my permanent personal image nailed down to be one of the characters on Miami Vice:

So....back to 2009. Of all the clothing in my closet, though, there is always the most comforting and most frequent piece of clothing worn daily as a mother, employee, crafter and writer: my thermal pants. They are my pajamas. They are my lounge pants. They are starting to fray and turn a darker shade of the grey they already are on the bottom cuffs, but I don’t care. I love them. They even have pockets for easy storage of ponytail holders, cell phones, and chapstick tubes. The ultimate favorite piece of clothing that no one outside the house sees.

Ahhhhh. Me loves the thermal pants.

What's your personal style? Or better yet, do you think you have one?

Paper crafts

2009-02-04T14:00:00.003-05:00

Feeling crafty? Well I have found a couple super EASY crafts to get your creative juices flowing, and I just have to share. You can make these with your kids, too, so it will be some fun family time in the grips of winter.

First one: Making a paper house. Never wanted to make a house out of paper? You will once you see how cute and fun these little houses are. Some ideas to do with them? String them over lights, make a little paper house village, increase and decrease the size of the template to make multiple sized houses, paint them, glitter them, stamp them. And love them! Here's the link.

Second one: With Valentine's Day coming up--oh wait, maybe you weren't paying attention to the calendar. There is exactly T-minus 9 days to the Valentine's party at your children's school, so either get to the store soon to buy a boatload of Scooby-Doo cards, or make these fun and sure-to-please butterfly valentine's. And the site they are located on is pretty awesome, too! Here's the link.

Happy crafting!

Where I'm From

2009-02-02T13:21:00.003-05:00

Last week was apparently the week everyone wanted to know something about me. So what did I do? Run and hide. Between facebook and this blog, I was tagged to write 25 random things, facts, goals about me, answer 45 questions about me, take an interview that seemed to go on and on, complete a “bucket list”, and write a poem about me.

I am so sick of me.

While I've been successfully caving under such pressure by being "offline" for a week now, I do have to say that this task is at least a little creatively challenging. Much more interesting than someone knowing my favorite food is french fries.

Heather tagged me to share “Where I’m From”. A poem started here, and posted by Binky here. Since this week’s trend is self-reflection, here goes on completing one more of these “me” tasks.

WHERE I’M FROM

I am from underneath the downy loveliness of the blanket on my bed, from my Pentax SLR camera and old Polaroid stills.

I am from an old colonial white home with the orange door and 2 bay windows, near the corner of a busy street from where everyone would honk to say hello.

I am from the lilac bush, the honeysuckle and the forsythia of my childhood backyard.

I am from the loud and loquacious Cooper clan, the Minears I never knew, and the generations of Czechoslovakian, English and Dutch ancestors before me.

I am from a generation of fighters and lovers, lazy workers and hard workers, artists and engineers; a multiplicity of oxymorons.

I am from underachieving, careless, talented, and MVP.

I am from the Roman Catholic church that spawned many a guilty conscience.

I’m from the Jersey shore, the countryside of Southeastern Ohio, and homemade ketchup and jelly.

From an overbearing immigrant, from cold Ohio mornings when urine in the bucket inside the house would freeze, from a radio always on in the kitchen with my mother singing and the sweet smell of pipe smoke wafting up from the basement.

I am from streaks of ink across a drafting table, from warm bread in the back of a truck, from the tattered, faded remnants and sepia-toned photographs found in trunks and old diaries absorbing the odor of time moving forward. I am from a place I would gladly return.

I tag SMID, Alissa and Mayberry. No pressure MM, if you're not feeling all inner reflective right now.

The beast of honor

2009-01-27T21:29:00.010-05:00

Recently, while doing some housekeeping on EP and going through some very old posts that either needed deleted or transferred to the vault, I noticed that there were no complete posts about my first "baby".

Back in 2006 when I started this blog, I needed an outlet to kvetch about breastfeeding and my agony over whether to stop pumping at work, being a working mother to 2 kids, a wife to a stay at home dad, and well, just to kvetch in general. (Boy, things haven't changed much have they?) And it just occurred to me that there's a member of this family that has yet to receive an entire post: my cat.

Her name is Cleo. Or now, affectionately coined by my oldest son a few years back, Coco-B (B is the first letter of my last name, but the kids really call her that with the "B", I'm not editing for anonymity). I first got Cleo, as she was named by me, back in December of 1994 with my ex-husband in NJ. She was a feisty member of an orange and white clan of kitties, and was equally feisty when I brought her home, scarring me up and down my legs and arms with playful, albeit painful, scratches. Even though she was like a sniper on my ankles, she was hard to resist, as she was really cute and had that deep, trembling purr that made your legs vibrate when she curled up next to you.

And so life went on with a divorce, a new apartment, then a new husband and another new apartment. Throughout the mobility, she was a consistent presence; a being that always represented familiarity even though she couldn't trade conversation. She always pissed me off, and yet I wasn't complete without her around. Anywhere we moved, home wasn't complete until the litter box and the food dishes found their designated spots. And she always found them. 10 times since 1994.

And then came the kids, and while she used to be a frequent subject of the camera, she isn't so much anymore. While organizing photographs recently I noticed, just like the youngest kid never has any childhood pictures, she, too has been ignored. And then again, as I leaf through the photographs over time, she's become less and less of the generous subject. These days, I can hardly get her to look at the camera. I wonder why that is.

During the summer months, she enjoys the warm sunshine on the porch during the middle part of the day, and then hovers close when I'm gardening. And like a dog, she follows the kids and I down the street to our local park, while our neighbors marvel at "that cat that follows her family down the street."

She's so light these days I can lift her with one arm. She used to be a burly, butch of a cat, with thick, bristly, bright orange hair. And her personality was equally bristly. Now, the fur on her back is thin, scarce and dull. Her eyes are more tired. Her gait is less frisky. Her attitude less confrontational. She is certainly in the autumn of life at 14. Although she still longs for my lap, like a child needing to be cradled in his mother's arms for comfort. Just one more time.

So she is 14 now. She has most definitely seen it all. Heard it all. Lived it all. If only she could talk, I fear the words that would spill out of her mouth. It is a blessing and sometimes a burden how much a pet can become a part of you, a part of the family. A completely dependent being with unrelenting needs and wants. A blessing that they can give so much joy; a burden that they pass so quickly. I would bet Cleo has a few more years in her to stick around. Just to piss me off. And just to break to my heart when she goes.

Par-TAY

2009-01-20T10:34:00.005-05:00

I’m very optimistic today that this week will be a fabulous week. What? Not like me to be so optimistic you say? Well, PMS is over, and so my mood is on the upswing, and there’s lots to be thankful for this week.

#1. Today is inauguration day for Barack Obama. Need I say more?

#2. On Wednesday, a new season of “Lost” begins. I may possibly be as excited about the season premiere as I am about inauguration day. While the swearing in of the first black President of the United States is both historic and emotional, it’s got nothing on finding out where in time the island has moved to.

#3. On Thursday, I’m taking a vacation day from work to celebrate my 38th birthday. Nobody likes getting older, but I’m trying to turn a new leaf as I get closer and closer to 40. I’m going to feel thankful that I’ve had the opportunity to live this long, rather than being regretful for years gone past and a body that will never come back. Here's me in my pixie haircut on my birthday in January 1978.

#4. On Friday, I’m taking another vacation day to spend a day with my husband to attend the Warhol exhibit at the Wexner center here in Columbus. Last fall, when Dave was sick, the exhibit just opened, so we never had an opportunity to attend since he was ill for months, then the holidays were here, and well, you get the picture. It’s an exclusive exhibit and the top ten on the list of national exhibitions. And better yet, my friend is watching the kids so it will be some quality one on one time that we rarely get.

And then so after that, it’s the weekend, and I don’t have firm plans for that yet, but I’m sure it will involve a 7 year old and a 3 year old. Perhaps an engaging challenge of Connect Four or Monopoly or Cadoo, and then some slapstick fun with Hungry Hungry Hippos. It will also involve an attempt to get my art/work space better organized, which will be better for my mind and soul. This has to be my year to get organized. I’ll be signing off from posting on EP for the rest of the week, but will still be following my favorite peeps.

So, whether you are Republican or Democrat, I hope you caught a few minutes today to watch the inauguration. Back next week with more fresh and fluffy content. Peace.

PMS + Life Don't Mix

2009-01-16T12:34:00.003-05:00

So we’ve all heard the phrase that goes, “Merlot and email don’t mix.” Well, neither does pre-menstrual syndrome. With nothing. Not kids. Not husbands. Not work. Not friends. Not strangers (especially not strangers!). I cannot think of one thing. I feel like I have gotten particularly worse with suffering through PMS as I’ve gotten older. I think the obvious connection is that there is more stress in my life than say, my former chillaxin’ college student days. (And didn’t we all just love getting our periods back then, too? Yeah! The pill worked.)

Now I have absolutely no use for my period at all. None. I do not plan to have anymore children. So done. It took several months after my last child to come to that conclusion, but yes, I’ve confirmed, my husband and I are both done. It was meant to be two boys. No daughters. We’ve done our part in furthering the human race. Much to the shagrin of his elderly, fairly senile, mother, affectionately known as Granny ‘Ledo (the grandma from Toledo), who asks me everytime I see her, “Are you pregnant?” I’m the youngest of all the daughters-in-law, so apparently she’s hoping against hope for another grandchild. Ain’t gonna happen.

So here I am, monthly, raging. I haven’t had much success in the past with the pill at abating my emotional symptoms, and my sister-in-law, who has no uterus anymore, told me that she still gets highs and lows as if she’s getting her period and nothing happens. And when I use the term “raging” I mean mostly silently raging because while I’m suffering with PMS there’s the constant suppression of my emotions because if I were to blurt out everything I really want to say, I would have long ago gotten fired, or kicked out of my house. And while there’s the raging, there’s also the depression part of it. Like I-want-to-drive-my-car-off-the-bridge, kind of depression. It’s awful the things that run through my mind. Again, more suppression and telling myself “this will be over in a few days…”.

And on top of the emotional, there’s the physical. I am not kidding when I say I feel like when I look at myself in the mirror at my peak of PMS, my face has contorted. It is puffier. There’s a different look in my eyes. I have terribly bad hair days. And my skin is dry and itchy. I’m like a completely different human being. Fidgety all over, as if ants were crawling all over my body.

My husband has grown to know this about me, and I’ve gotten several reprieves in our marriage (but word to the wise husband: don’t say “oh you must be getting your period” unless you want sex anytime in the next decade). As for my kids, obviously they don’t understand, and I have to constantly stop myself from resorting into this evil wicked witch of the west, and I know my oldest is getting smarter now and I hate to think of the memories he will collect of his mother sniping at him. There’s just no way of explaining to a 7 year old, “Hang on, when I’m on the rag soon this will all be over.” I’ve gotten much better about it. I just resort to physically excusing myself to a bathroom or something and count to 10. Slowly.

Oh, and don’t get me started on the eating compulsion. For about a week, I eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

So this week? This week has been one of those weeks. A particularly extreme bout of PMS. Seeing as though I’m not the only female in this world with PMS, how extreme is your PMS, and if it’s extreme, how do you cope?

Dear Old Man Winter

2009-01-14T12:09:00.002-05:00

Dear Old Man Winter,
While we’ve had a very love/hate relationship for most of the last 37 years, I’d like to express my gratitude in finally delivering some measurable snow here in central Ohio.

However, next time, could it please be on a weekend, preferably morning, when I’m in my jammies sipping a hot cup of hot chocolate, as opposed to a workday when I have to brave the icy roads and scrape snow off my windshield while the temperature is 8 degrees?

Thanks!

XO
Kate

Take a Break from School?

2009-01-13T11:03:00.001-05:00

While the last thing I need is to add more paper to my ever cluttered house, my son’s school sends home flyers and announcements by way of his school folder occasionally, and they are helpful tidbits of information about upcoming events and fundraisers. As a member of the PTA, I’m familiar with this, and it can be an effective way to get the word out in addition to emails about fundraisers and events. Case in point, I am organizing a craft fair at the school (point gun to my head now), and we just sent a flyer off to the copy center to get ready for distribution. More to come on that in later posts, on what I’m sure will be a fun ride in the handbasket to PTA hell. But I digress.

Anyway, point of the story is that there was this handout that came home the other day. Occasionally there will be flyers that are clearly full-blown advertising that one could bitch and say it’s crossing the line to send that stuff home in my kid’s folder. In my idealistic world, the schools don’t need money to survive and I don’t have to work. I’m hoping the latter pans out for me someday, but there’s a slim chance in hell (there’s that reference again---hmmm, PTA, hell, School, hell; I see a trend here) that levies will ever go away. So, anyway, the flyer that was a full-blown advertisement for the Ringling Bros and Barnum & Bailey Circus, advertised that they will be in Columbus May 14-17. And the copy read something like this:

“Hey Kids! Take a Break from School and Come to the Circus!”

The circus on those dates takes place at 7:30 pm, so they wouldn’t really be “taking a break from school”, but what marketing manager approved that copy? As someone in the marketing industry, there could have been a much better phrase. Certainly one less presumptive that parents want their kids to take a break school. Especially a flyer being sent home from the school.

I have a long-standing issue with the circus anyway. While I don’t want to make this post about animal rights, I have issues with their treatment of animals. But it’s not about my bias against circuses. It could have been a flyer about Earth Day.

And before I could scan the flyer for proof, my toddler got a hold of it and torn it up for use as “snow”. Looks like he has something against circuses, too. Either that, or creative repurposing.

I pledge allegiance to the handmade and other randomness

2009-01-09T12:26:00.005-05:00

You may have noticed my nifty little widget I just added to my sidebar saying that I pledge to buy handmade. Would you consider pledging, too? No, it doesn't mean you have to wear dark sunglasses and a large brim hat to cover your identity next time you enter Old Navy, but have you checked out Etsy? Poppytalk? Curiosity Shoppe? Design Sponge? And for my Columbus peeps Wholly Craft? Just a few of my favorites. And of course, don't forget to give me some clicky love on my Etsy widget found at my crafty photo blog. Order some handmade cards! OK. Enough links.

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The weather says we are supposed to get snow. They have been lying to me all year about the weather so I'm betting against this being true.

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I just finished reading "When We Were the Mulvaneys" by Joyce Carol Oates. Anybody else read?

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Breaking news: Billy Bush was surprised by the earthquake.

(My first) Wordless Wednesday

2009-01-07T14:32:00.003-05:00

My (digitally-enhanced) invitation to the PTA spaghetti dinner and book fair.

Oh Yeah!

2009-01-04T17:57:00.004-05:00

Remember that scene in an early episode of "Family Guy" where the Kool-Aid man crashes through the courtroom wall, shouting "Oh yeah!"? And then after freezing in place, eyes sheepishly surveying the room of speechless on-lookers, he then retreats awkwardly, walking backward out of the huge gaping hole in the wall. Bursting into the scene obtrusively, then needing to retreat like a coward fox. OK, so that would be me right now.

If you are wondering why, read my two previous posts. After not one, but two self-indulgent posts characterizing my disillusionment for the holidays, I'm lacking a good segue to start off the new year after the blog taking a real downer dive into prozac nation.

So just in time for mommy's holiday blues to be over it was time to celebrate Andrew's 3rd birthday. No better segue than that, I suppose.

the friends

the obligatory poorly-lit overhead shot of the cake

the #3 candle

the gifts

the crash

Welcome 2009. A new year and a new age! But really, couldn't I have planned this birth better to NOT be around the holidays? Poor kid will get gypped his entire life.

The Good Cry

2008-12-29T13:34:00.006-05:00

Re-reading my last post, it seems, well, downright depressing. I appreciate everyone’s comments and your non-judgmental ways. What you don’t know is, right after I posted it, I cried and felt a lot better. Sometimes that’s all you need is a good cry. We went on to have a good Christmas, albeit everyone in the house had a trip to the doctor at least once within the past 10 days. It’s been a hard cold to shake, considering I can’t just stay in bed and rest. (Ahhh, remember those days?) But, thinking back here on my lunch break at work, it was a nice 10 days with the family. All of our relatives were away at other places, so it was just the four of us for about 90% of the time. Lots of pajama days, careless hours building train tracks, long conversations, cookie baking, tracking Santa on Norad, listening and sometimes dancing to lots of music, and eating lots of warm, home-cooked meals. We did get out a few times; to a friend’s to play WiiFit, to the local bowling alley, to our Statehouse for a tour, and to visit the light display at the Columbus Zoo. The last two being some of the “must-do’s” on our list that I’m glad we ventured out to experience:

The Statehouse tour

Wildlights at the Columbus Zoo

Look what Santa brought!

Baking cookies with my little helper

I think what strikes me more often than I want it to, is the eternal struggle with being something that I should be, rather than just being me. Flaws and all. But it begs the question in me, who am I really? I can’t seem to let the guard down long enough to figure that out. Dressing up in the corporate uniform in the morning and I need to shift my attitude to be one person, coming home at the end of the day I shift again to the mom, and then after bath time I’m trying to find the energy for one more hat: the artist. I know I am not the only one who deals with this. And I know this won’t last forever. And maybe I don’t hate it so much as I like to complain about it. Like I mentioned in my last post, I need the friction. Sometimes I feel like I need the internal strife to feel alive. Complacency = death.

When my dad died at 49, he was in the prime of his career as a packaging designer for Avon on Fifth Avenue in New York City. Even though internally his body was quite sick from hypercholesterolemia and atherosclerosis, he commuted 90minutes each way from our home in New Jersey (for years doctors wondered how he walking around considering veins were only giving blood to his heart at this time—any day now, any day now?). He loved his job. And he also sort of had a second job called Remkap Graphics, where he did freelance work for local clients on the weekends. He loved that, too. He was also a local councilman in our town. On July 2, 1987 my mother was away on a trip with her sisters in North Carolina, my brothers were already both living out of the house on their own, and so my dad and I were hanging out together that evening, and we listened to Paul Simon’s album “Graceland”.

And then on the day he died, he died in his bed, mid-morning, clutching his chest, having just combed his hair and brushed his teeth getting ready to spend a vacation day home from work on July 3, 1987. I found him at 3:30 in the afternoon.

I was never the same again.

We had a nice relationship. And it was over before it could ever get really bad because I was still a young teenager. So it will always be good whether it truly was or not.

I think the holidays are a good time to remember him since Christmas was his birthday, remember where I come from, where I’m headed and what I’ve learned from all these moments in life. One thing I do recall is that my father felt envious of my generation that we had so many choices, so many chances to do what we want to do with our lives. My parents both came from a small town and made their own way, without college degrees, without financial support from parents. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen anymore, and it’s because the world is a different place, not because my generation is a bunch of spoiled brats who can’t make it on their own, but because things are much more complicated.

So here I am, I’m trying to do so many things before my time is up. For me, it’s hard to settle on one thing. One goal, one ambition. Some people are born and know exactly what they want to do with their lives. I’m not that person. I have a lot of goals set out for myself this year, and I think I will be really psyched if at least one of them works out.

Everytime I reflect on my dad, and go through the lapse of self-pity like I did in my last post, I come around and realize that we’re all on this earth for a purpose, and we’re all here to live the best we can, to give what we can, to better the human race, to leave our mark as infinitesimal as it is on the lifespan of this universe. So here I am, leaping into another year with another to-do list I will probably not complete, but isn’t it grand that I can still complain about it? Isn’t it GREAT that I’m alive? Yes, yes it is!!!

Cheers to 2009.

Mama Kate

2008-12-24T10:32:00.007-05:00

Near the end of each year, I can't help but partake in a long bit of introspection. Thinking back to the year like one remembers a good book they just read, recalling the chapters and events that led up to the end of the story. So here we are, at the end of the story that is 2008.

Here today, on Christmas Eve, we eagerly await the arrival of Christmas tomorrow, with runny noses, painful ears and hacking coughs. As does seem to be customary whenever I take a vacation from work, I get sick. It started like clockwork at around 3pm last Friday, my last day there before vacation this week, and with many pills of echinecea, many hours of sleep (forced), on this eve I am starting to feel better. "Better" being somewhat of a loose term, but better nonetheless. I would prefer to grovel in my anger about how I haven't accomplished any of the things I set out to do while I have been off of work, or spent the kind of time with my family that I wanted; I could also be really pissed off that I spent last weekend in bed when I wanted to take the kids to various Christmas events around town, or not get that promised quality time with my husband that we had planned with a babysitter to watch the kids while we had an uninterrupted conversation over a bottle of wine. The bathrooms continue to be dirty, the laundry is piling up, and the art room has yet to be organized. So yes, I am pissed off. Pissed off, but trying to remain positive.

Work has been very difficult this year, and I've been telling myself for the past week to not think about it, but it is hard not to. Hard not to think about how my day job has quickly spiraled into a non-existent career, going nowhere and nowhere fast. Hard not to think about how I'm getting older, and need to have a career since I am the only bread winner in the house. And yet at the same time I am at odds with that job, because it's not what I really want to do, and what I really want to do doesn't put bread on the table and pay the mortgage right now. It's the unending paradox; I don't have the money to start the business I want, and I can't afford to quit the job I have right now to start living the life I really want to live. All of these thoughts swirling in my sick head over the week, while wiping other kids noses and wrapping gifts and trying not let on what is really bothering me. Trying to keep a smile on my face for the kids. I had been looking forward to this time off for quite some time, but my mind won't let it go. Christmas is not my favorite holiday. Never had been. And especially since the death of my father, whose birthday was on Christmas, it feels like something to feel sorry for myself about. Another thing hard to let go. But must keep trying for the kids! as I say, must not let them know the pain that is hard to conceal. Don't want to ruin their holiday over something they have nothing to do with or can relate to at all. Painful still after 22 years.

Oh God, this self-pity is too hard to bear; I can't imagine how it must be for you, the reader. But as I type this, it's been cathartic. Heather at Cool Zebras took a picture of herself as a study of a moment in time, a true self-portrait even if it were without make-up or a gratuitous smile. So I have attempted the same self-study, along with where I feel my place is in the world at this moment. I do know I have so much to be thankful for, and that most of this internal strife is self-motivated. But is it a crime to want to be your best as a human being? To make the most use of this little bit of time we have on this earth to accomplish our goals, dreams, and live the most satisfying life we want to live? It doesn't seem to be enough for me to just be a mother and a wife and a provider, I need something more. Something more personal. Something deeper that's been festering for years.

The good thing about the end of the year, is that there is always the next one. Each year I knock on wood that I get a next one, and with the next one comes the annual opportunity to be that better human being. Time these days to me seems so restricted between the day job, the kids, the domesticity of life on the weekends; there is hardly room for me to breathe. Everyone keeps telling me when Andrew gets older there will be more peace. Right now is tough with little kids to do anything but mothering. A little bit of time here and there to blog, to get crafty, to write, to draw, to photograph, to drink, to laugh, to talk, to paint, to clean, to shop, to reflect, to read, to just sit and be silent. These little bits I look forward to.

And between the little bits, there is the joy of mothering. True, I did not become a mother to just push them away and not spend time with them. This past year we have splashed in the Atlantic ocean, climbed the side of a cave, rode bikes, walked through the woods, traveled 1200 miles, wrote our names in the sand, planted flowers, made water balloons, built miles of train tracks, played endless hours of games and traversed the landscape of our city on blacktop, grass and dirt.

The endless internal fight between "me" time and "mothering" time. I can say with certainty it will continue as I look forward to 2009. But don't we all grapple with that? Don't all fathers and mothers undulate between their old selves and their new selves as parents? And so it goes. The wanting and the non-wanting.

But truthfully would I want it any other way? Probably not. I need the friction to survive.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good rest of the year.

A Mother's Son

2008-12-21T15:25:00.005-05:00

When both my sons were babies most people would say that they were clones of my husband, their "father's son", with only slight variations of me, my mother, his mother, his sister, my brothers and so on. My mother especially loves to make comparisons about who my sons look like. She could go on a lecture circuit about how fascinating it is to her that my son Andrew has blue eyes like her when Dave and I have brown. He also has blond hair and fairer skin, which is like my husband's sister. Go figure DNA. All in all, my sons both have that distinctive shaped head, mouth and shape of face that is my husband. Yes, there is certainly no denying these sons.

A couple weekends ago, we visited a community holiday party with holiday crafts, carriage rides, live reindeer, and a Santa for free pictures. Much to my surprise, Andrew ran right up to Santa and sat on his lap. And then I snapped this picture:

Also, 36 years ago, one of my parents snapped this picture:

Beyond the cranium, the lips, the shape of his face, somewhere in there, in the expression or the eyes--I can't decide--there is me.

I have to agree, it is fascinating how DNA works. My sons could not have my eye color, hair color or skin tone, but in a quick moment there is a glimmer of me in a smile, a giggle, a frown, a curious look. How a person can look like 2 people in one moment, transcending one parent to another with the turn of the head, the blink of an eye, the quiver of a lip; it's genetics in motion, and it's a miracle to see.

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

A must not finish this post without a shout-out to my blogging buddy, Mayberry Mom, who graciously awarded me with this blog award:

As Mayberry explains, the award is defined as:

The recipients "are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers!"

I'm totally flattered by its meaning, that I am "kind" and not "self-aggrandizing". (Hmmm, "kind." If only you knew me in the "real world" - ha! kidding. kind of.) And totally flattered that I received it. (*See me blush*) Mayberry is one of those tried and true blogging friends that I've been following almost since I began blogging. And she knows me well enough to know that I need a little attention right now. Thanks again, Mayberry! I plan to share with the peeps as soon as I complete my nomination list.

The Guilty Free Christmas

2008-12-16T16:26:00.004-05:00

Did I mention that I'm a procrastinator when it comes to Christmas? Oh, I skipped that part in my blogger profile? Well I'll go one step further and say that I am also a procrastinator for birthday gifts, cards, and cleaning out the cat litter.

It occurred to me today (as it usually does around this time) that I have bought jack sh*t for anybody. I'm finishing up the Christmas cards this week (which trust me, is HUGE---one year it was a "New Year's" card, not a Christmas card), baking cookies tonight and we've done a few things around town that could be called the gratuitous holiday activities:

A winter wonderland of holiday lights

Holiday party at the community center

But what will be different about this year is that I'm OK with all that. I'm not spazzing out right now about it. Not. One. Bit.

What's ironic is that I'm finally not procrastinating: I'm already starting one of my 2009 resolutions to stop worrying and feeling guilty. Ah, what a good feeling. For today that is.

Ask me next week if I stuck to it.

A Charlie Brown Christmas: Advertising Style

2008-12-12T20:59:00.004-05:00

Too hilarious not to share. Especially for those who have ever worked in advertising.

View from the rear

2008-12-10T22:19:00.005-05:00

No, I am not posting pictures of my caboose, but I was thinking today of a post that my online buddy Heather at Cool Zebras posted several weeks ago about the view out of her back door. She has a great view, and so I thought I'd share mine in different seasons.

This one was taken last spring during a very foggy morning:

And then I took this one tonight:

A sort of Frat house draping, and if it weren't so damn cold I'd be out there with a fire pit and a hot totty.

Have some Christmas lights pictures you care to share?

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

Brace yourself, but I have actually won something. I got an email today from my fellow Columbus blogger extraordinaire, Christina, that I have won a free pair of Lee Jeans from the Mommy's Must Haves giveaway! Suuuuuhweeeeeet! I could use an early Christmas gift to myself. Hey if I could win something so could you! I think the last time I won something "Pour Some Sugar on Me" was #1 on the radio. While on the subject.... favorite 80s song anyone?

Of sleep and silence

2008-12-08T20:11:00.004-05:00

Sometimes I think my days go rushing by and I don't take the proper time to sit back and reflect on motherhood. Usually the weekends are the only times I seem to catch little nuggets of tenderness because during the week, by the time I get home from work, eat dinner, clean up, get them bathed and dressed for bed, I'm done. I'm done with the world and the day. I just need that little bit of alone time. It's like medicine. It's all full of guilt and regret and selfishness, but I just don't think I could live without it. I've always said I would run a marathon with my kids during the day if only to ensure an hour to myself at night.

Which is why late at night, after the kids have finally fallen asleep, and I've had that much needed downtime, and I'm ready for bed myself, I go upstairs and stare at my sleeping kids to get one more glimpse of them. Under the soft glow of the nightlight, these are the types of moments I remember the most. It's like all is right with the world if you just get that chance to take a breath, ya know? The moment of silence is sometimes all you need. For all parents, the moment of silence comes with sleep.

Speaking of sleep, someone was talking about co-sleeping the other day and I have to share the most frightening experience I ever had with either of my kids. Both of my kids have slept with me as infants and toddlers and beyond, so it was no big deal when one night several weeks ago Andrew was fussing and I brought him in with me so we could both fall back asleep. It was during the time Dave was very, very ill and my stress level was high. I awoke sometime in the middle of the night and found Andrew wedged between my underarm and the pillow. And I could swear I did not hear him breathing. In the middle of my stupor, I lifted him up so I could see his face in the moonlight shining through the window and began to shake him, "Andrew, Andrew. Andrew! Andrew!" And he did not wake up. He hardly stirred. He was limp and silent. I continued to shake him and call his name until finally he let out a deep sigh. My arms immediately weakened from the relief that I nearly dropped him. I carried him back into his crib. I laid in my bed staring at the ceiling for at least an hour.

The sleeping hours. They bring with them peacefulness and sometimes grief. Like vomiting, sleep walking, exaggerated moments, dreams, and restless legs kicking you in the shins. Any unforgettable middle of the night moments you care to share?

*****************************
Regardless of the snow we got this weekend, we made it out for a couple activities on Saturday. There's a really cute picture of Andrew with Santa.

Help Wanted: Tricks of the Toilet Trade

2008-12-05T11:53:00.004-05:00

So Andrew is closing in on turning 3 in early January and it’s freaking me out. I’m totally psyched that he’s getting older because to me this is such a cute age. But there’s one part of it that I’m getting a total brain fart over and you would think I never had any children before him. I have completely lost my mind over how to toilet train him.

Me: “Would Andrew like to use the potty?”
Andrew: “No!”

----------
Me: “Look, Andrew, see how CJ goes to the potty? Would you like to try that?”
Andrew, running away in terror: “No! No! No!”

----------
Me: “Andrew, don’t you want to go potty like a big kid?”
Andrew, laughing AT me: “No, diaper!”

As I mentioned, he’s gone poopy once on the potty, and it was almost by an accident that I capitalized on. I hadn’t explained further that he happened to be in between diaper changes and was running around feeling the breeze for a bit until he said, “Poopy! Gotta go poopy!” I chucked the towel I was drying dishes with and ran over to him and carried him right over to the potty. We all clapped and cheered and I started a reward system that I hadn’t had to use with CJ, and that is M&Ms. So he got an M&M everytime he went, and he went pee-pee a few times more that day, and he got the hang of the pee-pee-means-m&ms trick pretty quickly. So I’m thinking, ‘ah, who was I kidding that I can’t toilet train this kid?’

And then as soon as it started, it ended that abruptly.

Me: “Andrew let’s go without a diaper for a bit, and then you tell mommy when you have to go pee-pee. OK?”
Andrew, screaming: “NO! DIAPER!”

------------
Me: “Andrew, let’s try the potty again like you did the other day. Wasn’t it fun to go potty just like a big kid?”
Andrew, laughing maniacally: “Not!”

While I try not to compare the two, I think every parent compares the milestones between kids. I do know that by this age, CJ was already using the potty pretty frequently and already in pull-ups. He was totally toilet trained before he was 3 ½. How the hell did I do that? And I thought that was late! Here Andrew is almost 3 and he’s running in fear of the potty.

So with Andrew closing in on 3 years old, pre-school registration starting in a couple months, I’m like, ‘OK kid, I mean business.’

But I’ve totally forgotten all the tricks. Can anyone please remind me of the toilet training tactics they are using or have used, so that Andrew isn’t wearing diapers to kindergarten?

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

Looking for a cheap, but personal, Christmas gift? Check out the Tile project at The Revelry Blog.

Quote of the Day

2008-12-03T16:33:00.002-05:00

From CJ, upon seeing me in my tights this morning while getting dressed: "Oh my god, those are HUGE socks you are putting on all over your body!"

Also, I'm on a blogging roll... yesterday it was Revelry, today it's Kids Events! Am I getting in way over my head here? Nah!

Um... maybe.

Revelry

2008-12-02T11:00:00.002-05:00

Do you love taking pictures?

Do you love doing crafts?

Do you love making your pictures into crafts?

Then you have to see what's going on over here....

(Yep, it's me)

2008-11-30T18:41:00.001-05:00

Done.

Now time for a big glass of wine.

The great state of consumerism

2008-11-28T13:50:00.003-05:00

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. I did! So now onward we roll toward the remainder of the holidays in a mad dash to the end of year, right? And may I emphasize the phrase "mad dash"?

OK, I'm going to step up on my soapbox now and express my opinions on something that I think has gotten way out of control: consumerism.

Take the case of a seemingly unsuspecting temp worker at a Walmart in Long Island. I don't know his whole story, but I would assume since he's working as a temp he needs some extra cash and so his job that day was to attempt to manage the crowd that was gathering before they opened their doors at 5 am this morning. Well, he was trampled to death. Trampled to death by people running to get the best deal on a laptop, a toy, a stereo or whatever they are in such a hurry to buy. And again, this guy was trampled to death by a group of shoppers. No, these weren't needy folks in search of food because they were starving, no they were shopping.

Yep, shopping.

This is surely a Black Friday.

And I never shop on this day. Good thing, because I may get trampled to death.

(My sympathies go out to this poor man's family)

Giving Thanks

2008-11-26T13:39:00.002-05:00

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. Especially the night before Thanksgiving. It used to be a time when all of my friends that I hadn’t seen in sometimes a whole year would converge from all our respective places upon one bar in my hometown and reunite. We’d drink all night, go home, sleep until noon the next day and then gorge ourselves on turkey until we fell asleep again while watching our favorite football team. Ah, those were the days.

Well, things are quite different now. While I still don’t host Thanksgiving, which is fine with me, I don’t exactly have the opportunity to get drunk tonight, my friends live all over the country, my kids wake up by 7:00 am, and I never get to sit during a holiday for longer than 15 minutes let alone 3 hours for a football game. Life has certainly changed. And I don’t lament the days gone passed; every phase of life has its own opportunities and challenges. I like my life now, it’s just always amazing how much things have changed.

And change is a good thing. I certainly wouldn't still want to be that girl hanging out in the bar at my age. And it’s really hard to even imagine life before I had my kids. Somehow they seem to have been part of me my entire life, although I know that’s not true. So I’m truly thankful for them, thankful that I met my husband so long ago in such an accidental way (I do believe in fate for that very reason), thankful that we all have our health back – I can hear and Dave is starting to get back to normal – and thankful that even though life can be challenging, I am still alive and still in the game.

Happy Thanksgiving!

And then there was poop

2008-11-23T22:51:00.003-05:00

After some cajoling, some bribing, some live demos, and a power point presentation, Andrew actually decided today was the day he wanted to poop in the potty. Hence today we begin the long road to a diaper-less free household. I know, long road to come as I've had prior experience. But let's just savor this moment for a little while, k?

P.S. Sorry for the poop post. But just had to share. Oh and Andrew, when you're old enough to read, try to forgive me.

Soup cans and cows heads

2008-11-21T19:08:00.005-05:00

An Andy Warhol exhibit that will take place exclusively in Columbus, Ohio (I know, go figure that!) is currently on display at the Wexner Center through February of 2009. I plan to go soon because I love his art. So in the tradition of the great master of pop art and culture, I give you me and Andrew's 15 minutes of fame:

Taken at the Reading Festival!

Space case

2008-11-19T19:20:00.011-05:00

If there's one thing I've learned about motherhood, is that I have very little space of my own anymore. Toys and kid paraphernalia seem to be everywhere. An action figure in the couch, a car to trip over in the middle of the night or those real great finds like an old sippy cup under the couch full of curdled milk. (Admit it, even you neat freaks out there have come across something like that in your house). As a mother of two sons I don't anticipate a lot of cleaning in the future either.

So today I couldn't help but notice the condition of my craft table since I couldn't, um, do any crafts on it. But if you look really closely, you'll see someone left me a present:

I spy a hammer, a star, a blue box to hold a buck, nail scissors, a bedazzler and a little toy truck...

And then there's the medieval castle warrior greeting me in the morning from my end table:

(Note the attempt at trying to live simply)

And there are the daily masterpieces of messes. Like today's:

And then at night, with my feet up watching my favorite tv show, I get to view all the toys that surround me:

...with an audience from the other side of the room:

Somedays I feel like the walls are caving in.

Indoor fun: Part deux

2008-11-17T14:33:00.003-05:00

During the summertime, when I'm not enjoying a drink with my husband on our deck, my weekends are usually spent either gardening, letting the kids roam free in our big backyard with their toys or taking them on excursions to the pool, the bike trails, the parks or community festivals. Easy entertainment for kids looking to blow off some energy.

With today being our first snowfall here in Ohio (can you believe that!?!?), cold weather season has officially descended. As mentioned in my previous post, to avoid climbing the walls, we’re always on the lookout for fun indoor activities around town. This year we joined COSI, a science center here in Columbus. My son CJ loves science, and since he is only in first grade doesn’t yet get a lot of exposure to it in his curriculum at school. So we went there over the weekend for a couple hours and the kids had great fun. The good thing about the membership is that we can come and go as we please and not feel pressured to have to do the whole place in one day.

CJ got picked out of the audience to go on stage for a static electricity demonstration, and although he was a little reticent at first, by the end he was excited as is evidenced by the series of photographs…

As for Andrew, they currently have a Sesame Street-themed exhibit about the human body that is geared mostly for toddlers and young kids. They had a blast at that, too.

Sometimes I think I should do reviews for events with the amount of things I take the kids to around town. I say that, because I’ll tell someone like my sister in law, who has lived here for about 20 years, about something we’ve done over a weekend, and she’ll say “You did that here in Columbus? I didn’t even know about that…” In the past 5 years that we’ve lived here I’ve developed a pretty long list of destinations to pick from. And I’m super cheap. I’m always on the lookout for either free or next to free. I usually always pack food and water bottles and rarely travel more than 10 miles. The good thing about my kids is that they are still at an age where they like to be with me and like to explore all sorts of places. And they are not over-indulged in modernity that they can’t appreciate the simple things. I love that about them. So even though I get very little cleaning done around my house, I have to think that these things are more important, right? (However, if I don’t clean my bathroom soon, we won’t have to travel father than our upstairs to see another science experiment).

Indoor fun

2008-11-09T21:06:00.008-05:00

So now that the weather has officially changed and I'm pretty positive we're over the indian summer we've been having, it becomes yet again the time of year to start thinking about the indoor activities. I'm already missing the days of summer when a backyard full of opportunities was a few feet away and the splashing of a refreshing pool was just a short drive. Alas, holiday season is fast approaching as evidenced by the crowds at the mall already, so while I look forward to the end of year festivities, every year at this time, I sigh that the summer is over. We had really great weather here in Ohio and summer always seems to give you that constant "playing hooky" type of feeling where you can go outside during your lunch hour and catch a few rays, or sneak out of work early to take the kids to the park, or enjoy a ladies night out on a sunset-soaked patio having laughs with your friends. Ahhh, the joys of warm weather. It can't come back soon enough.

So to get out of the four walls around us, today we went to a reading festival at the library which was super fun for Andrew since it was really geared toward babies and toddlers. He struck a pose with the Very Hungry Caterpillar:

And then Winnie the Pooh:
Daddy came along today, too in our first all family-member excursion since his illness. He's starting to feel better which is making us all feel better, too.

So as things start to get more back to normal around the house, I'm re-grouping a little and got a little groove back today. I'm feeling crafty again, and worked on this today:

Revelry Press is the name of the business I'm working on to launch on Etsy. I'm thinking of doing some more variations of it with different words/letters/colors and symbols. I really like shabby -chic with flourishes and distressed type. With this small canvas, I layered 3 colors 0f paint with brushes and paper towels, layered again with some rub-ons, added some sparkles and metal stars and glued grograin ribbon around the edge, and voila. While it's no masterpiece, I'm ecstatic about the newfound creative energy. After a hiatus, it's always the 1st piece that's the hardest.

Yep, still tingling

2008-11-07T21:51:00.003-05:00

The excitement for the fact that my guy actually won this time around hasn't really worn off yet. To put in perspective how long it's been since a Democrat has been in the White House, here are some fun facts of how much has happened in my life in 8 years:

I became a mother twice: in 2001 and 2006.
I moved 3 times.
I've held 5 different jobs (including my current one).
I've been married 100% of the time and it has been 80% of my marriage.
I got a new car.
Two old cars died.
I filed bankruptcy.
Then 5 years later, I bought a house.
I started a business.
I started blogging.
I made new friends; in real life and online.
I voted. Three times.

And not mention everything else that's happened nationally.

A lot can happen in the next four years. I can't wait to see how much will happen for the country. I would think whether you are Republican or Democrat, you've got to feel the movement.

0-H-I-O for OBAMA

2008-11-05T19:17:00.002-05:00

All I have to say about the election is:
YIPPPPEEEEEE!

More comprehensive thoughts to come later, but today I'm doing the happy dance.

Scream all you want, I can't hear you

2008-11-03T13:00:00.003-05:00

That's my motto these last 2 days. I was diagnosed with an ear infection at the urgent care on Saturday and my right ear is so clogged I can hear myself talk inside my head, along with a constant ringing. Armed with amoxicillian and acetominophen, I plan to kick this within the week's time. I assume I picked it up from Andrew, who was diagnosed with an ear infection about 10 days ago. I swear, between all these sicknesses that have been going on in my family this past month, the pharmacy counter at Kroger is getting to know me by my first name. We have never been so sick.

So for the record, in addition to the ringing in my ear, I am officially sick of:

medication
co-pays
sleepness nights
hospitals
doctors
and mucous

CJ asked a really obvious question Saturday as I returned from the urgent care, "If dada is sick, and now you are sick, who is going to take care of us?"

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

Oh and even our internet service is sick because we've had spotty internet connections at home this past week, so I'm sneaking this at work during lunch. Shh.

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

But life goes on, right? Onto Halloween. The kids had a fun Halloween night. We went out with our friends and their kids. It was great weather which made a huge difference.

The kids got loads of candy. My kids aren't big on sweets, so while they like the action of collecting it, they aren't real big on eating themselves into a sugar high. For sweets it's usually just chocolate that they like, and specifically M&Ms. And only so many people give away M&Ms. They don't like the sweetarts, or starburst or any other fruit flavored candy. Much to my delight, because I LOVE all those fruit flavored stuff. And then I also get to have the other chocolate that they don't eat like snickers bars and stuff. Andrew's not going to miss his candy right?

What is your favorite treat for Halloween?

Some progress

2008-10-21T16:36:00.005-05:00

I use the word "progress" loosely, because in this household, not ending up at the ER this week is an accomplishment. My husband's health issues, while they are still there, seem to have quieted a little as far as the attacks go. He is still quite fatigued, needs a lot of rest during the day, is still hardly eating anything, and is still sleeping upright. But he hasn't had to use his rescue inhaler in several days, which is good. He went for a cranial CT scan today, and he'll be re-visiting the ENT doc next week to discuss the results. I'm not expecting bad news, but I would like to know what they plan to do, if anything, about the polyps and broken nose. As for the attacks, his "gut" (no pun intended) is telling him that all of this is centered around a malfunction of his digestion and that the GERD is the true culprit of these attacks. However, in the land of HMOs we need to wait to get a referral, and that is several weeks from now since he has to start with the ENT first (which is what we're doing). We simply can't just call a GI doc listed in the yellow pages since it won't be covered. I feel like an interviewee on "Mystery Diagnosis."

And speaking of insurance, I am very glad that we have it. While I seem to pay a lot each month for it (and I bitch about that), it has been a lifesaver for this unexpected episode in our live (and hoping they end up paying for it all). I remember a brief period in the early part of the decade when, for various employment and re-location issues, we went without insurance for about 2 years. I shutter to think back to that, because I do remember feeling as if I was living on the edge. I had insurance while CJ was born, but shortly after that, we lost it and went without for a while after that. We used to take CJ to a free clinic for his newborn appointments. We had gotten ourselves in a bit of a financial mess, and sometimes I can't believe we, 2 educated adults from good families, were visiting a free clinic. But I'm not ashamed. I guess everybody gets down on their luck at least once in their lives. And even a few more times. Which is leading me to my stump speech for the day: we need public health insurance. If we can offer a socialized parachute for Wall Street, we can insure ourselves because it would cost much less than 700 billion dollars.

But I digress. Sorry, my GOP readers.

As for my emotions, I'm a little bit exhausted (but not enough to argue politics, apparently). And also suffering from bad PMS mood swings.

Dave is cooking dinner right now, which brings a lot of normalcy to the house, which I know CJ was craving a lot during all this back and and forth to the hospital. I learned a lot about CJ's relationship with his dad during all this. He really yearns for the routine his dad brings; a necessity that you don't know you need until it's not there. It's their type of love for one another. It became really obvious the different things I bring to his life and what his dad brings.

Well, that's about the wrap up. I'm feeling a bit lackluster right now, and not at all witty or wise. I'll work on getting the spunk back soon. TTFN.

The -Osis Post

2008-10-16T20:05:00.004-05:00

The Diagnosis:
Gerd, LPR, Nasal polyps, asthma, and wait.. here's the kicker: a broken nose. Broken nose you say? Yeah, so did we. A kick in the face on the playground as a kid? No. A bar fight? No. A kick in the face by an angry toddler? No. There is still no definite answer on that one. The doc said his septum was so out of whack that it's no wonder he's all stuffed up. Of course, we're talking about a guy who was walking around without a problem 3 weeks ago, so who knows what else is around the corner. I hate to guess for fear I may jinx something.

The Prognosis:
Unknown. A CT scan next week, and follow up doc visits. And wait for the Gerd and the LPR to heal itself with meds. Many meds. Expensive meds. Did I mention that a one month prescription of Nexium is $66? And that is with insurance. Without insurance? $369.00. We're lucky we rarely get sick.

The Epistaxis: (a diversion)
One night last week, after a long day of double duty with the kids, entertaining my mom (more on that later), filling prescriptions and taking care of Dave, Andrew had gotten out of bed and yells from the top of the stairs, "Buddy nose!" And when I switched the light on there was a huge stream of blood coming out of his nose. No emergency room trip, just your standard bloody nose from picking boogers too deep, but I said, "Can I sit in the corner now and suck my thumb?"

The Eucalyptus:
The rest of the story of life continues. This was just a bump in the road. I'm sure there will more to follow. Stress happens. And we live through it.

Time to exhale

2008-10-08T20:39:00.003-05:00

OK, inhale. Hold it. Hold it. Hold on just one more minute, OK? Just one more. Another sec. Feel it burn?

OK now, exhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale.

That's been me for the last few days. Holding it all in until I burst.

Yesterday, I was sobbing like a little girl with my head rested on the bed rails of his hospital bed. His heart is OK. It was great news that his heart is OK. There truly was no better news.

But, of course, the story does not end there. He was released with a clean bill of heart health yesterday evening, however his breathing has not improved.

An interesting thing we learned from the respiratory therapist yesterday was that there is connection between GERD and Asthma. One of those things that seems common, yet rarely investigated. So he has a follow up visit with his doc tomorrow, and then hopefully, hopefully onto a specialist to see what the hell is going on.

It's not normal that you can't eat anything. And it's not normal that you can't make it through the day without a rescue inhaler. (Thank the gods for the rescue inhaler, so no more 911 calls).

Thanks to all for the well wishes. When we first ended up at the hospital I thought it would be a one time thing. I went on with life; continued the daily grind. He continued to watch the kids everyday as he does and took care of us all by feeding us, cleaning our clothes, making sure CJ does his homework. But this week, this week I feel different. I feel just a little off the beaten track. Maybe it's the exhaustion. But the vim and vigor is just a little deflated right now.

And I will leave you with the most memorable moment of my last few days, next to the tears my husband wept after the second ER trip. After picking up CJ at school and getting Andrew from my sister in law, we drove back to the hospital to pick up Dave as he was being released soon since he was nearing the 4 hours in bed lying still after the heart catheterization. Out of the blue CJ asks me, "Is what happened to your dad, going to happen to dada?" (See explanation for what happened to my dad). As I parked the car I turned around to him, looked him straight in the eye, and said "Absolutely not."

How do I write this and sound coherent?

2008-10-06T22:42:00.002-05:00

As mentioned above, I'm struggling to get into words what is going on right now in my life. I'm not adept at writing about emotions so fluently as so many talented writers out there. When I was a teenager, I had a diary and most of the entries were like, "Dear Diary, Life sucks right now," without further elaboration. While I find writing to be cathartic, it doesn't come natural.

Right now it's 11:58 pm and I'm just at a point where I know I have to post about it because I have to get it off my chest. I've hesitated blogging about it because I struggle with getting all of the shit running around my brain into words (as mentioned above). I realize now that my defense mechanisms were working overtime. I'm ready to unveil the secrecy because I thought this was going to be one of those passing phases in life that will leave its perch. But it's not leaving. And we don't know what this pest wants. And what is further disturbing in its coincidence, is my husband is 49 years old. And so was my father when I found him dead 21 years ago. Coincidence smacks me in the face with a cold, familiar rag.

At 9:30 pm 9/26, I called 911 for my husband who could not catch a full breath; arms tingling, head dizzy, ready to pass out. After many tests he is released the next early morning; he's on Nexium for GERD, Advair for Asthma, and Amoxicillan for possible infection.

Week following: mini episodes of struggling to breathe. Symptoms not going away. Double duty at home and juggling day job since his health is so unpredictable.

Friday, 10/3, 12:30 pm: For me---panic attack at work. Shaking, nauseous, heart racing. Almost threw up lunch.

Saturday, 10/4: Regardless of the previous week, a succesful 7th birthday party for my son at Chuck E Cheese, although my husband hardly moved from his seat the whole 90 mins.

Last night: second call to 911. Same symptoms as first 911 call.

Today: stress test inconclusive; tomorrow a catheterization. A long day at the hospital at his side.

Tomorrow: we hope for certainty. Mom pulling into driveway from NJ to help.

Right now: sipping wine to calm my nerves and to help me sleep, along with meditation music.

Friday's Photo: Chapter 2 of the Tooth Saga

2008-10-03T09:06:00.004-05:00

The tooth fairy's ransom note*

*we evenetually had to vacuum. this was the plan. she obliged with a one dollar bill.

Planning for Slackers Like Me

2008-09-30T12:57:00.007-05:00

As I’ve mentioned before, earlier in the month, I started my second year on the PTA at my son’s school. In addition to the craft fair planning, I’m also the committee chair for communications. So far, I’ve gotten many condolences for dealing with the “crazy moms” of the PTA, which is by all accounts a fair assessment of both the moms and the dads of our PTA. You have never seen more drama outside of cable television. (OK, maybe Flavor of Love beats us…) Anyway, planning is in full gear for lots of things. Key word: planning.

And did I mention my lack of skills surrounding planning?

I’m one of these types that comes up with an idea, goes full steam ahead, usually on my own without any clear step by step directions. When I assemble a toy I disregard the directions. Gantt chart? Not in my lifetime. It is very hard for me to visualize and map out the steps involved in getting from point A to point B, while planning for step C and so on. I would prefer to just move and get it done rather than thinking and mapping out HOW I’m going to get it done. Big pros and cons. I know you are imagining how successful I must be in my career as a teamplayer…

So, imagine my delight when coming upon a site called Jooners. Alex Elliot of Formula Fed and Flexible Parenting requested some assistance on reviewing this site and I have to say, my experience with it so far has been delightful.

For instance, for the PTA craft fair that is coming up, I have some willing volunteers (a.k.a. “crazy moms”) to help me do anything from posting flyers to recruiting vendors. All I do is create an event on Jooners by clicking on a list of online planners. In my case, I clicked on “organize volunteers.” (see image above) I then fill in all the relevant information about my event and all of the necessary tasks. I then complete the initial planning process by importing all of my volunteers’ emails addresses, which can come directly from my web mail address book. And then Voila! I click on “send” so that an email alert is sent to my volunteers to pick a task they can help with. No unnecessary emails back and forth. It’s all in one place. And that way, everyone else sees what others are doing. So none of this whining like, “I wasn’t copied on the last email… I didn’t know Barb was managing the bake sale…. Whaa waa…”

And what’s even better is that my recipients do not have to create an account to respond. What could be better than not having to remember yet another username and password? For working moms like me, I have a gazillion passwords at work to remember for all sorts of programs, so all I need is another password (sidetrack: there's an hysterical "Dilbert" that says "...starting today, all passwords are to contain letters, numbers, doodles, sign language and squirrel noises." Those working in corporate America will appreciate that). Of course, as the organizer I do have a user name and password, but I think it’s great for the recipients to not have to be hassled about passwords and such.

For me and my PTA work, this site is extremely useful. It was very user friendly for entering all the necessary information for people and tasks. There are many great planners on the site for even more things such as home improvement, car pools, classroom parties, and event planning. They all work just about the same way. I might have wanted the event planning section to be a little more detailed to help people like me get into the nitty gritty of planning, but it’s not enough of a deal breaker. I don’t need to complicate the events of the PTA anymore than they are, so really, the simplicity of these planners works great for busy moms.

So I encourage everyone to check out Jooners! For your next Christmas party, for your next PTA event, or for your next block party, give it a try. It’s easy, and best information of all: it’s F-R-E-E. (Good news considering the stock market tanked 777 points yesterday).

Friday's Photo

2008-09-26T12:46:00.002-05:00

Ocean Grove, NJ

Bye-bye summer.

Another one down

2008-09-22T16:02:00.002-05:00

Picture this: a Monday morning rush. Right after I had just matted down the bedhead on CJ’s hair, then grabbing my necessities on the way out of my bedroom to head out for the day and drop him off at school, we were interrupted by a memorable event: he lost his third tooth. One of the front ones. It was one of those repetitive, rushed moments of a morning that turned into a silly escapade of both of us on bent knees with our fingers roaming through the carpet searching for the lost tooth. He was fussing with the tooth, as he had been for weeks now, trying to wiggle it out of his mouth, and this time it worked. Next thing I know I hear a “ping” sound ricochet off the metal frame on my bed, and the tooth goes missing into the long fibers of the beige carpet. These suckers are really tiny, but our quick search yields nothing. And the school bell would be ringing soon, so we had to leave. This afternoon, when I checked in with my husband to see if he had found it, he hadn’t.

“I just told him that I was sure the tooth fairy would find it herself.”

I can see it now. Sometime in the not too distant future, as a cheerio falls on the carpet and my 2 year old goes to retrieve it, he’ll be munching on a lost tooth instead.

I still have a few hours left to find it before bedtime. If not, the fairy will be on her own.

Friday's Photo

2008-09-19T20:12:00.003-05:00

Taken at a swimming hole at Old Man's Cave in southeastern Ohio.

One of my favorite photos of the summer.

Things to do while the power is out

2008-09-17T06:55:00.003-05:00

Attempt to make the best damn dominos set up ever

We had a bad windstorm here in Columbus on Sunday with 70 mph winds. Apparently remnants making its way up the country from Hurricane Ike. We're one of the lucky ones who have power back as of late Monday, but there are still thousands of people who don't. We all learned a great lesson in the greener virtues of living an electricity-free life, less dependent on the grid.

And then did kart-wheels and slapped hands when it came back on.

Getting drunk is swell!

2008-09-12T19:49:00.004-05:00

Early yesterday morning I made the final tweaks to my craft fair proposal I was going to give at this school year's first PTA meeting, printed off a bunch of copies, filed them away and continued on with my day at work.

Until my inbox came with the news at 3:30 pm from my friend.

While at the school picking up the kids, she took a gander at the school calendar to see about penciling in our pending date for the craft fair. And there it was. Scribbled across the square boxes in permanent ink for all to see: "Adventure Month".

Adventure Month is when our gym teacher basically takes no prisoners and overhauls the gym into one adventure wonderland full of zip cords, climbing ropes, and climbing walls. The kids love it. And to my dismay, interferes with the date we wanted the gym for the craft fair, and alas the adventure takes precedence.

So my proposal was a little deflated. I did receive an enthusiastic response from the members, and everyone was really excited about the idea. I already have people emailing me to sign up for help. So instead of a holiday fair, it will be a Spring fair, and the crafters can get out all of their best Easter merchandise. It might be a blessing in disguise because it was an aggressive schedule anyway. But it was a little defeating getting the news, considering all the work I had already put into it. But I am excited that so many people were on board with the idea, considering it will be the first event of its kind at the school.

As for my art, I'm still creating cards, and our Heat Press for our t-shirts arrived this week. Next stop, my Etsy shop once I get the bank account opened. Here's a peek at my latest creation.

The season it is a changin'

2008-09-10T08:56:00.002-05:00

So… catching up over the last week or so off. I had joined the “Basement Bitchfest” (see button at right) and ranted on someone else’s blog about something quite big that had been festering in me for so long. I posted anonymously because, well, I might seem half insane if anyone who knew me read it. It’s all about who really is to blame about burning issues. And truly it’s not about my parents or my husband or my brothers or friends who have scorned me. While I’ve had some tough breaks in life, it’s all about me. It’s all about really taking hold of my own destiny and moving past lingering issues that drag me down and don’t allow me to become the person I really need to be. It’s about everyone’s responsibility to be in command of their own life.

But enough about me, right? Even though this is my blog there’s only so much I can stand of me. Onto other things. I’m on the edge of my seat with this presidential race. With the announcement of McCain’s running mate, and the race becoming more of a statistical dead heat, I have to ask…having people lost their minds? Is she really equipped to be second in command? Really? If this reflects where this country is headed, I fear for our future and the futures of my children and grandchildren. We are so going backward.

And so in my local world, besides fearing for my future, things are heating up with school stuff again, besides the recent cold snap with the weaher. We’ve gotten over the first week smoothly, CJ is handling it all quite well, and is really excited to be back in school. It’s his first year of having a full day of school, since both preschool and kindergarten were half days, and besides being “too tired to see” in the morning and get out of bed, once he’s up and at ‘em, he’s raring to go. And things are heating up with PTA business, too. Besides being the communications committee chairperson, I am also organizing a craft fair to be held at the school in November. It’s part noble, part selfish, as I’m also going to be an exhibitor. It’s the first time the school will ever host a craft fair, and I proposed the idea to the president over the summer. I have to make the full formal proposal at the first meeting tomorrow night, where I’m likely to get a passing vote. Unfortunately before I start all the legwork with recruiting vendors, they need all the members to vote on whether I can go forward. It’s like being at the starting gate waiting for the gun to go off. I’m pretty nervous about it all, and hope I can pull it off. We’re also going to have a bake sale and a make ‘n’ take table for the kids. I’m trying to see if someone’s willing to be Santa Claus for an appearance for pictures with the kids to raise some extra dough, but that might be too ambitious for the first year. So most of my spare time these days is caught up between preparing for the craft fair, and then also doing my own crafts. I plan to sell cards, prints and t-shirts. I love doing all this. I wish it were my full time gig. I’m banking on the karma that if I work hard enough on this new business, one day it will.

Meanwhile, here’s some good humor for the day.

The Cannucks are looking mighty healthy

2008-08-28T20:33:00.004-05:00

I suppose I should explain why, on my last post, I put up a picture of Hillary Clinton with the caption "You go, girl." While I understand this is a convention for Barack, I just wanted to commend her for doing something very un-Clinton-esque: accepting defeat. I was a Hillary supporter from the beginning, and while I am sad that she did not get the nomination (because I STILL think she is the better suited candidate), I understand that we must come together and make sure we vote a democrat in the White House. And in so many eloquent words she said to us, "I didn't win, and that's OK, but I'm not going away."

I make no apologies on this blog for stating I am democrat. I come from a long line of active democrats---my parents were both elected officials and very involved in the democratic party on the local level. So while I am still pissed at Nancy Pelosi for her lackluster performance, and the House for not having enough balls to go after Bush I am sure as hell certain that just because my candidate didn't get the nomination, I am not voting for John McCain. It's unfathomable that the 20% of the former Clinton supporters are "not sure" who they are voting for now. C'mon. Really?

I really love in Hillary's speech, too that, in so many words, she's calling Barack to the carpet on the Health Care reform issue, by bringing it up in her speech, giving us a wink that she's going to make sure he sticks to his word when he's in office. (Again, that "I'm not going away" attitude.) And I say "when" because I have to positive. If I watch another election get stolen away, I just don't know what I might do...

Move to Canada?

At least I'll have health insurance.

Now, off to watch Barack.

Sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits

2008-08-27T08:37:00.000-05:00

You go, girl

Retro Rash

2008-08-20T16:19:00.002-05:00

This week I got something back from my youth. No, not a flat stomach. Or a bi-level haircut.

I got poison ivy. Or specifically, a poison ivy rash.

I have no idea where I got it from. About a week ago, I woke up one morning with an itchy rash that started on my chin. Thinking it was hives, I figured it would go away by the end of the day. Then, the next morning it spread to my left arm. Then a couple days later, it was all over my waistline. I thought for sure I’m coming down with skin cancer.

So after scouring dozens of websites with skin rash photo galleries, I reluctantly made the appointment for the doctor after living with this mysterious skin rash for almost a week, and braced myself for the bad news she would deliver. Something like, “Hmmm…I’d like to send you to Dr. Specialist for some tests.” But no, she took one look, and quickly stated, “Oh, you’ve got poison ivy.”

I haven’t had poison ivy since about 1981. When I remember vividly being covered by a pink paste with socks over my hands. This time I was prescribed a steroid type of cream, and it has seemed to work better than the pink paste and socks. But talk about a trip down memory lane. I’d much rather be listening to old Blondie albums.

"Greed is Good"

2008-08-13T15:34:00.003-05:00

My 6 year old son, CJ, and I were discussing the virtues of a part time job during summer vacation. While he is too young to work now, we were discussing some of the jobs kids have to earn some extra money. And it went something like this…

Me: “Well, how about doing the chores around the house for spending money?”
CJ: “Too boring.”
Me: “What about babysitting, that’s a good way to earn some extra money.”
CJ: “I’ve already got Andrew following me around all day! I don’t want to watch more little kids!”
Me: “OK, then how about a paper route, like Phil has. Me and Dad both had a paper route. You could start that in just a few years.”
CJ: “Not enough money! I need to get paid more than what they offer.”
Me (trying not to laugh): “They don’t pay enough? OK, then how about cutting lawns?” CJ: “That would pay the best. And I could hand out business cards and have, like, my own business!”

Later that night while tucking him into bed….

Me: “Ceej, I was wondering, why don’t you think a paper route would pay enough?”
CJ: “Because Phil told me what he makes.”
Me: “Oh yeah? What?”
CJ: “He makes like, 50 cents or something like that. I need a whole dollar!”

Sickness Squared

2008-08-11T12:56:00.001-05:00

Unfortunately, this past week was full of some sicknesses. Last Monday I watched my friend’s two children (who are friends with my kids), and from there it went downhill. The next day her daughter starting puking, and according to a strep test at the doctor was diagnosed with strep throat. 2 days later (after her daughter was feeling better), we all went out for ice cream and as I ordering at the walk-up window, my friend says, “Uh oh, he’s puking…”, referring to my son, Andrew. (My kids have a knack for puking as soon as we enter a restaurant establishment–—my older son did the same thing in a Chik-Fil-A several months ago. I felt lucky, though that neither had puked 2 mins earlier, which would have been all over my car. Restaurant workers just love us.) So after stripping him down, wrapping him with a towel which was handily in the trunk, my friend took CJ, while I whisked Andrew back home. It certainly put closure to the cranky mood he had been exhibiting for the past 48 days, so mystery solved there.

But wait, this story is not over.

Flash forward to Saturday afternoon, when Andrew is feeling better and it’s gorgeous weather. We all take a ride to the park, and within about 30 mins of being there, CJ starts spiking a fever. But he’s “OK, mom” according to him. Yep. So back at home, he lazily makes his way through the day insisting he is not sick when he’s sweating from a fever, not talking (extremely unusual), and refused a bowl of ice cream, claiming he wasn’t hungry. The refusal of ice cream sealed it for me. So, even though he never ended up puking, he suffered through the weekend (which did I mention was gorgeous weather?) with a fever. As of this morning when I left for work he was rather sprite and chewing on a banana.

But wait, this story is not over.

Back to my friend. Her and her family had plans to go away to PA this weekend, about a five hour drive from where we are in Columbus. While all went well in PA, on the ride back, her 6 year old son was puking the whole way home.

Isn’t this August? I thought we weren’t supposed to be dealing with mystery stomach viruses. I thought all that was saved for the winter months when we are either coughing, sneezing, puking or aching?

The best day evah

2008-08-04T11:59:00.003-05:00

The party on Friday turned out to be a success, as was evidenced by the comment from my friend’s 4 year old daughter, “This is the best day evah!” I loved hearing that considering you just never know whether kids will have fun doing the things you think they will have fun doing. I had one medium sized pool set up, a slide pool, a baby pool, a sprinkler, and an inflatable castle. We also had a gazillion water balloons (see pic below) and the sand box on the deck, as well as a make-it-yourself peanut butter and jelly buffet with ice cream tubs to follow. My husband, the moms and I were opening beers by early afternoon. We all had our feet up, enjoying the fact that our kids were completely entertained for the afternoon, as well as being completely worn out at the end of it. The weather was hot, but bearable, and I have to say it was one of my most enjoyable days so far this summer. Everyone came out unscathed with no bruises or band-aids.

Which leads me to why it felt so good to just let it all hang out and take a vacation day from work. There always seems to be a tug-of-war over work vs. spending time with the kids. And I don’t just mean the day job. I also mean the cleaning, the yard work, my creative pursuits, or simply reading the Sunday paper. I know I’m not the only one who suffers from this, so I try not to stroke the violin too much. It’s a daily thing for almost every parent, I know. I just get weepy sometimes as I think of how quickly the time will go. Over the weekend, the time span of “15 years” came into the conversation and how 15 years ago it was 1993. And I think about where I was in 1993, which was my last year of college. While it seems light years and maturity levels ago, it also has gone very fast. And so I fast-forward to thinking about my life 15 years from now, when the kids will be 21 and 17. No more fun Fridays with a backyard pool, no silliness over water balloons and no one will want to be sipping Capri Sun from a straw. I’m not saying fun times will be over, but “fun” will have a completely different meaning, and rarely at that age does it involve your parents. What’s further distressing about 15 years ahead is that I will be 52 and my husband will be 64. Again, seems like light years, but it will certainly go quicker than the last 15 years has. I try to remain positive about the prospect of being 52, but something doesn’t sit well with me when I think of myself at that age, or worse, when I think of my husband in his 60s.

On the bright side…cheers to fun Fridays in the backyard. It’s good for the mind and soul.

What did our mothers do before playback machines were invented?

2008-07-31T20:19:00.003-05:00

Seriously, I have no idea. Tonight, "101 Dalmations" has been my saving grace. It was last night, too. Ah, what the heck, maybe it'll be tomorrow night's, too. Or "Stuart Little 2". I might not even need it. We have a mega backyard party planned tomorrow for CJ and his buddies. Water balloons, a water slide, sprinkler, make your own sandwiches, and ice cream tubs. When I grew up on the Jersey shore we never had backyard sprinkler parties, we just went to the beach. And when I moved to Columbus 4 years ago, it was a huge culture shock on what to do in the summertime on the weekend since we are so land-locked. Now, after a little time have passed, we have figured out how to cool off. Summertime is all about the community pool and the backyard sprinklers.

So hopefully we all (and by "we all" I mean specifically Andrew) will sleep tonight so we can wake up all refreshed and ready to party. The moms of the friends are coming over, too who I am friends with so I'm really glad I'm playing hooky from work tomorrow. I know last post was really tongue in cheek, but really, when will this 2 1/2 year old sleep? I guess it's a bit of a slap in the face considering we didn't have these issues with CJ. Part of me can hardly remember how we even got CJ to bed, it seems so long ago. We're starting to try and toilet train Andrew now, and I swear, I have forgotten everything we did to get CJ toilet trained. Is my brain really that fried? Most of the time I call Andrew "CJ" and CJ "Andrew." When I do something like that I stop and think: "Mirror mirror on the wall, I have become my mother after all." And I'm still deciding if that's a good thing.

Next post: the great mid-summer backyard water party wrap-up

Things to do on a Monday

2008-07-28T21:17:00.003-05:00

Miss your morning breakfast habit
Get insulted by your boss
Feel like sh*t due to bullet above
Tell your son to stop farting at the dinner table
Kiss a boo-boo on a thumb
Tell a toddler 10 times to go to bed
Find said toddler in living room hiding behind the curtain in the dark
Put toddler back to bed and let him cry it out
Breathe a sigh after the house is quiet
Wonder when this child will ever sleep
Reads some blogs
Write a post
Yawn
Say goodnight....

Anyone else have a typical Monday?

And sleep finally comes.

(Yes, those are socks on George's feet, because you know, they get cold of course)

The darndest things

2008-07-24T15:11:00.002-05:00

So I had a good time with a friend last night who was over my house, putting up our feet sharing a couple drinks while the kids ran around the yard and played, and we were sharing some of those “gotta write this down” questions and expressions our kids have shared with us over the years. As we were sharing the classic quips, she shared a keeper that her daughter asked her. Of course, I don’t have a daughter, and it’s questions like this that I’m glad I don’t (although not to say a boy wouldn’t ask this). She asked, “Do you have to be married to have a baby?” Back in the day, I would have gotten 40 lashes from the nuns at my Catholic school for even pondering such a thing. I liked my friend’s response, though, which was appropriately diplomatic: “Well, yes you can. But it would more ideal if you were married.”

Interesting timing for that particular topic of conversation. Because in the next breath, I am passing on the good news that my closest friend in NJ just gave birth on Monday to her first child, and she is…unmarried. She has been dating the father for several years, and they plan to marry in the fall, but still, it has been an unexpected backward series of events. I honestly don’t care if she gets married or not, or if anybody who wants a child gets married, but I do think a child longs for the love from both parents however they get it. There are different things a mom gives to her children, and different things a dad gives to his children. If that can be done in unison, well, maybe there’s an argument for parents being together when they raise a child. I know that my friend’s response had nothing to do with the morality of marriage that some people love to argue, but more for the logistical reasons. A spouse’s 5 day long business trip can bring us married folks to the brink of insanity and makes us wonder, “How do single parents do it??” I lean on my husband for certain things, as he does me, and I admit, I have no idea how single parents do it. It has got to be the hardest job in the world.

"Hey Mama, I'm not a morning person either!"

Me vs The Chigger

2008-07-21T10:46:00.002-05:00

OK, so I need some real help. Well, I need lots of real help, but I have something very specific to write about. There’s a micropscopic nemesis that has descended upon my backyard that will not go away: the chigger. These things are wreaking havoc on my backyard fun. Opening my sliding glass door to the beacon of my backyard to garden, play catch with the kids, and push them on the swings has become about as safe as swimming off the coast of a New England seaside town (cue music…). I’ve had 3 bouts of them already this summer, and Andrew has had them all along his diaper area now for the past few weeks. Not easy trying to let him air out a little.

The difficult decision to spray pesticides today and remove some well established plants over the weekend was not an easy one. (You could call us slight tree-huggers, maybe something like tree hand-shakers or tree’s acquaintances). But after sleepless nights scratching, I reached the end of my rope. What’s also irritating is that they don’t seem to be biting my husband. He has yet to suffer from a bout of chigger bites like me and the kids have been. And he does all the grass cutting and weed whacking. The only remedy I have found to speed up the itching process is to spray a fast flow of water directly on the bites with the hottest water I can stand. Unfortunately the kids wouldn’t be able to handle the hot water, so they can’t use this remedy. But hot compresses on the bites seems to work. Otherwise, preventive measures have been bug spray, with little success, and I’m not a huge fan of deet.

So does anyone else suffer from these annoying mites? Any remedies you care to share?

Seems like old times

2008-07-19T09:30:00.002-05:00

Howdy.

So recently I've been inspired again to take fingers to keyboard and start blogging again. I have better technology and convenience for posting than I did a year ago, so hoping it will be easier this time around. Of course there's still that tricky thing called "time" that has not been improved upon, but I suppose it's all about making time, right?

Anyway, after a year, the kids are getting bigger, work still has its ups and downs, and I'm currently developing an online store with my paper/stationery collection in hopes that one day it will get me out of the corporate world. More to come on that.

Not sure what to pick up with after almost a whole year off. I guess it will come to me, and I can post about that next time. For now, it's off to the pool with the kids to cool off on a hot day in the summertime.

Until next time, Go Barack!

The Last Summer Weekend Wrap-up

2007-09-04T09:07:00.000-05:00

So thanks everyone for the feedback from the last post. I have a few responses to them. CTD and Heather mentioned that it might make Diana more appealing to play with if we forbid him to. As I understand the logic behind this, I think that happens more in the teenage world of parenting. I totally understand what you guys are saying, because my mom did it to me, too when she would try to make me stray from the so-called “bad crowd”, but that was when I was a teenager. As for protecting him from the ridicule of a 6 year old, OK, perhaps forbidding him to see her is a little more than his brain can handle. And yes, while he may seem less bothered by it than I do, because it's not like he's marched home crying about any of this, what I failed to mention is that on and off this summer CJ had been walking around with a vague sadness, that I wonder now had been related to what had been happening with this girl. Remember, whatever CJ has told me is all I know, I’m sure there have been plenty of other things she has said to him that he failed to mention. So as for forbidding him to play with her, I relent, and admit perhaps that was a harsher reaction than necessary, so I haven’t mentioned it again. The tactic is to try and keep him busy enough with things in his spare time to avoid the opportunity of going up the street anyway. So far it has worked as we spent most of the weekend on the go to festivals, birthday parties, a sleepover at his cousin’s, and the last day of the pool. And now school is officially in full swing, so hopefully this may all work itself out anyway. So maybe it’s time we put this subject to bed both on this blog and at home.

But before I do, I still feel strongly about defending myself on one point, though. When someone tells your 5 year old child that they don’t like them, don’t want to play with them, then take a measuring stick out of the garage and tell him in front of the other kids on the block that he is too little to play with them, how else would a person react? Do you really remain neutral? I don’t know. I think there’s the visceral reaction coming into play here that must continually be repressed when parenting.

So, on to other bright topics. We had a great holiday weekend – did lots of stuff and kept ourselves very busy. I was cruising along well doped up on Vicatin. Yes, Vicatin. No, neighborhood tribulations have not led me into drugs, I pinched a nerve in my neck sometime a week or so ago. I do this sometimes, and more or less it goes away with some Tylenol and massage. To no avail, this time around. So I called up the doctor, which I totally hate to do, and got a prescription for steroids and Vicatin. I would recommend Vicatin for any ailment, as it has become my new favorite pain reliever of choice! Not just for pains in the neck, but for tolerating aggravating human behaviors, too!

So the neck pain is alleviating, although I think the source of the recurring pain is my non-ergonomically correct posture and position of my computer at work. I use 2 computers at work --- a PC and a Mac --- and they are beside each other. Going back and forth between them sometimes on busy days I think strains my muscles in my right arm, leading up to the muscles in my neck. Because my right arm muscles feel very sore, too. So I’m using the mouse today with my left hand.

And I’m not ambidextrous...

Me loves me

2007-08-30T14:04:00.000-05:00

Besides mastering the art of chic, as seen in the picture at left, Andrew displayed a unique talent last night while outside playing. It seems as though he’s discovered the ability to take off his diaper from underneath his clothes. And no, there was no poop.

This time.

Wednesday Morning Kindergarten Raw

2007-08-29T16:04:00.000-05:00

Thanks to everyone for the encouraging words on behalf of my son in my last post. It’s stupid that I let a 6 year old girl inhabit so much of my brain during the day, but I can’t deny that she’s a throwback to particular girls of my youth that were nemeses of my day. I’m sure all this affects him much less than it has affected me, so I’m confident his self esteem is well intact. Today is his first official day in kindergarten and he was a little upset about things not being the same way as they were in preschool, but I’m sure after time he’ll adjust. Some of the children were crying yesterday at the open house, and he was nothing but eager to play with the other children. I don't think there is any time where he is not ready and eager to play. His teacher seems nice, albeit a little overwhelmed, and there was a fair share of running around and speaking up by a few loud kids. So, a typical kindergarten class---a little tears, a little sweat, a little running and a lot of talking. You know, mayhem.

As for the neighborhood, we’ve kept him near the house lately. He was a popular kid in preschool, so I’m sure all this nonsense with Diana has him totally confused. Let’s face it—he’s never been manipulated before. We had high hopes for him finding new friends once we moved to the new neighborhood and maybe we set the bar a little too high, which rubbed off on him. He’s been fairly protected most of his life in the shell of his own home since he didn’t go to daycare, so his emotions are raw and he’s very sensitive. We lived in a condo community where there were no kids and so this sort of neighborhood free play is a totally new concept to him. And he’s just outgoing and assumes the best in everyone. Like every 5 year old should be. So it’s like, welcome to the world---it sucks. We’ve moved on to better things like making fun of dad at the dinner table last night for being a professional wrestling fan and making up pretend matches in his basement when he was a kid. Nerd with a capital N.

I'm back, baby

2007-08-23T12:35:00.000-05:00

Well, hello bloggy friends, I have returned from a long summer hiatus from blogging. It was unintended, and then the days just kept piling on top of one another until 2 months later I realized I hadn’t written one post. There were a couple factors at work here, impeding my ability to blog: the recent move into our house, and a new gig at work. Perhaps some people are able to juggle the demands of domestic organization, the corporate jungle, and parenting effortlessly, but I have never admitted to being an overachiever. So as they say, something had to give. Frankly, the amount of brain power I have exerted recently at work left me with little energy to even form full sentences, so writing witty, entertaining content was an impossibility. Besides, it would have been an endless bitch session anyway. So as of today, I hereby officially blow off the dust on Eucalyptus Pillow. Even though I’ve been a silent lurker on some occasions these past couple months, it’s time for me catch up on some of my bloggy friends. I’ve also cleaned up my site a little and gotten rid of some things that were just not applicable anymore. I don’t mean to insult anybody, but it’s time for de-cluttering.

There’s been some interesting debates going on the blogworld lately, especially one that piqued my interest about advertising. As a marketing associate, I would have to say that advertising is ubiquitous, and who’s to say some mom in Idaho can’t jump on the bandwagon and get paid for her writing if she wants to put McDonald’s in her sidebar. The one part of blog advertising that I do find irksome are the posts that written like ads. I know there’s a word for these, but I can think of it right now. And the endless contests and promotions. It’s a little too commercial for me. It’s not why I got into blogging. But by all means, not that I’m looking to piss everybody off on my first day back, and people can do whatever the heck they want with their own sites. It’s like the argument for censorship on the radio, you can turn the dial. I can keep clicking.

OK, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, here’s what I did on my summer vacation in photos:

Before and After (excuse the brown grass)

My uncle did the work on the porch, as well as some painting in the house. Landscaping is next year’s project. And the kids are growing up way too fast. CJ starts kindergarten on Tuesday, and Andrew is feisty little toddler who is now walking all over the place. I thought that kid was never going to walk!

There’s so much to share over what’s gone on in the past 2 months, so not sure where to start other than with the pictures. More to come later about the kids in the neighborhood, why I’m now broke, our car that died, and who ate my black-eyed susans.

And The Next Chapter Begins

2007-06-05T15:17:00.000-05:00

Today I got back on the wagon and cruised some blogs of my favorite writers. And everyone seems to have been keeping just as busy as I have been over my short hiatus from blogging. We are finally completely moved in. However, I use the term “completely” very loosely, as my living and dining rooms are disaster areas and my basement looks like someone vomited toys all over the floor. I haven’t hung any of my curtains yet or done any of the painting, or unpacked all the gazillion boxes, but believe me, as soon as my body allows me to walk upright again, I’ll let you know. And then the decorating can begin. I think I must have moved about 100 boxes, climbed up and down 2 sets of stairs about 200 times, moved a curious toddler away from the top and bottom of the stairs about 300 times, and have already screwed up 2 do-it-yourself projects. Can someone tell me the following: how do you screw a gate into the wall at the top of the stairs where there are no studs? And I’m not referring to male assistance.

And since when did doorknobs become such a pain in the ass to take off? I got into a serious fight with the doorknob of my powder room and it won. Now it looks even worse than it did before, since not only is it ugly, but it’s now dangling by a final screw that won’t budge.

I might be saved by my Uncle Tom who is coming in from out of town this weekend to assess the damage. The whole house is move-in ready, it just needs a good scrub down and good paint job on both the walls and the trim, as well as some serious updating. But serious updating will have to come once I receive either a serious raise or a serious bonus at work.

The deck also needs to be power washed, painted and sealed. And all the doors need new doorknobs. Other than that, we just need to actually unpack all the boxes that are stacked around the house, and slowly do project by project. My total wish list is the following: paint the kids’ rooms and their bathroom, paint my bathroom, replace the living room and dining room curtains, paint all the trim and the walls in the living room, dining room and family rooms, add a porch rail to the front porch, replace the banister leading up the stairs, add a chair rail and wainscoting to the living room/dining room, add a chair rail to the family room, replace the flooring in the foyer, kitchen and powder room, and replace the carpet in the family room. Phew, that is quite a list. Who knows when all of that will get done. Like I said, serious raise or serious bonus.

And my husband doesn’t seem to be able to take care of children and unpack at the same time during the day (much to my irritation I’m still waiting for him to get the oil changed on one car and replace the donut tire on the other), and his mood this past week has been a little annoying. Everytime we move he gets into a funk about the transition. He has issues transitioning from one thing to the next. In other words, his threshold for stress is much lower than mine, and frankly it gets a little old. I don’t have the capacity to carry both the financial and emotional load of the family. He’s a very good nurturer and caregiver to the kids, but when it comes to multi-tasking and just simply “getting things done”, his behavior is not exemplary. I remember when I applied for the job I have right now the description of the ideal candidate included someone who has a “get it done” attitude. We are opposites in that category. Good thing or else I’d be out of a job, right? Perhaps instead of his art class he’s taking, he needs a class on domestic due diligence. He already knows how to draw!

But enough about him. I’m glad I just got that off my chest. Someone at work told me I’m annoyed with him because I just spent way too much time with him all week while I was off work. And that could be true. It’s just there’s one thing about my marriage that I have learned: my husband and I deal with stress in 2 very distinctly opposite ways. I move and he does not. In my experience, he eventually comes around after some very consistent and explosive nagging, but frankly, I don’t have the energy for nagging anymore. That was so 2006.

But in the all important and good news, the kids seem to have adapted quite well to the move. Andrew only had a few nights in our bed, and I don’t think CJ has removed his bicycle helmet once since we moved in. In fact he might be making permanent trail marks on the sidewalk as I write. He’s made some friends up the street with the fellow neighborhood urchins and already bugged the 12 year old boy to death next door to play basketball with him on a daily basis. I’m certain sooner or later that poor kid next door is not going to want to come out of his house ever for fear of the five year old who will pounce on him as soon as his foot hits the blacktop in conjunction with the dreaded words: “Oh, Phil is outside!”

As for my world, today I’m more concerned about paying for this newly acquired home. We are fine financially right now, but it will be extremely tight. Of course I haven’t had to pay that first mortgage payment yet, so the sticker shock will be frightening, I’m sure. More posts on that to come I’m sure on July 1st after I wipe myself up off the floor.

Well, now that I’m officially back online thanks to my local internet provider, I’ll be trying to get back into the blogging swing of things. And pictures of the house to come soon. You see I haven’t yet graduated to the age of digital photography yet and have issues about giving up film. I’m like my husband when it comes to photography: an old stick in the mud with transitional issues.

The Next Chapter

2007-05-21T12:18:00.000-05:00

The progress with our move is picking up. With this being my 7th move in 10 years, I’m hoping we will remain settled for quite some time. Moving in itself is not only a stressful period, what with all the organization and packing of boxes, and physical labor, but it’s an emotionally challenging time. With every move, a cornucopia of emotions gets emptied. It seems as each chapter gets completed, another component to the sum of our lives gets added, and I can’t help but reflect on where I’ve been. If any one of you readers knew the kind of financial state my husband and I were in just 4 years ago, you would truly understand the breadth of my words. In 2003, we were living in New Jersey, in an upstairs duplex apartment in a house so riddled with fire code hazards it’s amazing we got out alive. And we lived there with CJ, as a baby. I was working at a retail store making $12/hour, then coming home at nights and running a side business of designing custom invitations and announcements. Dave could not find consistent work anymore as a commercial producer, and was providing no income. We paid $900 a month for rent and drove a 2 door 1993 Chevy Cavalier, that we had to pay $600 a year to insure. We had just declared bankruptcy the year before. So the failure was now etched into public records for all to see. We were just on the heels of having lived at my mother’s condo for 8 months after having to move back home with our tail between our legs carrying a newborn, because of our failed attempt at a business in Los Angeles, where I gave birth to CJ. I was hardly on speaking terms with my mother anymore. Life was very bleak. All I can say is that it’s a good thing kids don’t develop a memory until about the age of 3. And I knew he’d be starting to become aware of his surroundings soon, however I had no idea what we were going to do.

Personal failure is a horrible thing to overcome. At the brink of the possible mental breakdown of both me and my husband, or the possible divorce, we reached out to Dave’s family for assistance. We had tapped out my mother, who, as I mentioned, I was hardly speaking to, and we were both emotionally drained. When Dave’s sister proposed the bright idea of moving to Ohio, it was not exactly a notion I met with enthusiasm. It was yet another move, and I was growing tired of running. I wasn’t quite sure how Ohio was going to answer all of our problems, but it did provide some stability and a cheaper way of life.

After 4 years of building ourselves back, I must boast how proud I am our accomplishments. When we moved here I worked yet again at another $12/hour job, while he worked nights at a $9/hr job. We had a nicer apartment because housing is cheaper, and we had emotional assistance from family members geographically close. Life slowly turned for the better, with raises, better jobs and constant persistence at improvement. And now another baby later, time is moving at the same pace as it always does, but the state in which we were living when we first pulled into town seems like decades ago. And yes, the purchase of the house will present its own set of financial challenges for us since it’s stretching our budget, but we will own a house. For so many years, I feel like I’ve been living outside of a bubble as I watch the rest of the world buy houses, buy cars, go on vacations, and invest in their retirements while I’ve been a static bystander. There’s something that validates your maturity when you do things like get married, have a baby and buy a house. It thrusts you into adulthood.

So why am I bringing all this up? Well, this Friday we close on the house. I haven’t had much time for blogging which is obvious by the fact that I haven’t posted anything in over a week, and will have to bring blogging to a close for a little while as I settle into the next chapter of my life as a homeowner. So the pillow will be on hiatus for a few weeks. Just wanted to make sure nobody thought I got wiped out by a city bus or something like that. I’ll document the move with pictures and share when I return. Take care!

On Motherhood

2007-05-11T12:50:00.000-05:00

I know there are a gazillion posts out there now about Mother’s Day, and why each person feels special to be a mom, and how blessed we all are, and blah blah blah. Well, here’s the reality. I was up all night with a feverish, sick child and it’s been like that almost the whole week. Andrew is sick again with a respiratory infection and he’s back on antibiotics. CJ has been getting less and less attention lately because Andrew seems to be on an endless trip of sickness and we’re moving in 2 weeks. TWO WEEKS. And hardly a box has been packed. Not to mention the added responsibilities for me at work.

Andrew’s fever spiked to over 104.5 last night. After already having a dose of Tylenol, we promptly dunked him in a cool bath, which he hated since he was so tired, but it seemed to help and got him cool enough to make him comfortable enough to fall asleep again. But about 5 hours later at approximately 4 am, he was up tossing and turning again, not as hot as before, but hot enough for another dose of Tylenol, and kept tossing and turning until 6 am. Dave took over most of the time during this sleepless interval because I have to have some of my brain functioning at work, but I didn’t sleep well and was up again at 5:30 anyway checking on him. Soon enough it was time to get up and get in the shower to get to work. Another night of interrupted sleep down the drain.

So as I was trying to soothe Andrew back to sleep it the haze of the early morning darkness, I couldn’t help but reflect on the moment. I can’t say I had some great revelation about motherhood at 4 am, but in the stillness and being half awake, I just laid there next to him, holding his hand. And thought of all the other nights I’d been awake with a baby. Whether it was with CJ or with him. And then I thought about my friend’s sister, who is dealing with her 10 year old son, who is fighting Leukemia right now and how she posted this on their website about the nights they had been having lately:

Things have been really rough since our last posting. I can honestly say that since this all began there has been very little "it's not fair" going on in this household, but sometimes it is just too much. It turns out that the abdominal stress he was experiencing in the hospital was , at least in part, due to some kind of lower GI bug that has really knocked him down. I am not sure of the names we were given but it could be a side effect of the antibiotics he is taking or he could have picked it up somewhere else as it is highly contagious we are told. That's great news around here. Its effect has been a vicious sudden onset diarrhea made all the more complicated by the fact Jack struggles to get out of bed as it is and can't walk on his own. Around 1AM last night he attempted to do both and fell as he entered the bathroom spraining his foot a little and banging his knee. You've never heard such a cry-out. That led to a long night of panicky bathroom visits and Beth bore the brunt of it, as usual. Well, it's just not fair. There....I said it. Our good friend and podiatrist, Dr Greg Bordiuk made a housecall and Jack is fine. He likes Dr Bords a lot and I think it gave him some much-needed confidence having him visit and wrap his foot in an Ace Bandage. We have such good friends. So, onward we march during Jack's so-called "vacation" with new meds and the hope this will disappear quickly.

That was written by her husband, who does most of the postings on the site. And I don’t mean to turn this post into a sappy, be-thankful-for-what-you’ve-got kind of post, but I was feeling so worn out and tired this morning, after being defeated once again by Andrew’s wakefulness, that even as I use toothpicks to keep my eyes open today, I can’t help but think that it could be worse. Things could be worse. I know I’ve been blogging a lot lately about sick kids, house hunting, my job and all the shit that comes along with those things, but I’m really happy to be a mom. I think that is what has kept my spirits up. I’m just really happy to be a mom. Life is too short to fret. Andrew is not dying of Leukemia.

So I’m enjoying myself this Mother’s Day, but I don’t think I necessarily “deserve” anything. My kids didn’t ask to be born into the world and so I should really use my time to just enjoy them. I wanted them. That doesn’t make up for the grogginess from sleepless nights, or the endless questions from an inquisitive preschooler, or a beligirent child who won’t eat his peas, but after all that we have to remember that we wanted these kids. And whatever happens to them, we’re here to help them make it in the world.

Have a great Mother’s Day everyone!

Seven Facts and Habits

2007-05-08T16:55:00.000-05:00

So I’m really glad my buddy over at Mayberry Mom tagged me for this list of 7 habits or facts about me, because I’ve had total writer’s block this week. Left without anything to write about these days other than houses, sick kids, and job transfers, I will be happy to oblige with a silly and senseless post today. (No offense to those serious meme-ers out there). I’ve had a little blog-apathy lately, so this is a great excuse to steal some time today for a little dose of fun blogging.

Fact: I have had the same breakfast for over 20 years. Growing up in the best bagel region in the country, New Jersey, was purely the reason for my breakfast addiction: a sesame bagel with butter (and cream cheese if I want to spice it up a little, but I really prefer whipped cream cheese).

Habit: I bite my fingernails. Down to the quick. I can’t stand having nails on my fingertips, although I really like neatly pedicured toenails. I think I’ve had my fingernails painted maybe once in my life.

Fact: I’m addicted to HGTV. And I’m not sure if the addiction will go away once we’re all moved into the new house or not. When I was pregnant both times, I was addicted to every pregnancy show on Discovery Health network and TLC. As soon as I gave birth, those shows held absolutely no interest for me.

Habit: I’m a perfectionist. I really like my hair to be perfectly coifed, and I’m a maniac about spelling. It must be correct. There’s nothing that irritates me more than seeing a misspelled word in a business document. To me, it’s totally unacceptable. I know - I need to lighten up.

Fact: I hate to shop for clothes. Unless I have an unlimited budget, and in that case, I will buy whatever I think looks good. Since that doesn’t exist in my world, I’m always forced to decide between which piece of clothing I can buy because I can’t afford both, or which one goes with the rest of my wardrobe, etc. To me, those decisions make me anxious.

Habit: I don’t touch elevator buttons with my fingers. And I try to avoid touching doorknobs as well, by using my sleeve. I was in a McDonald’s once, a mother placed her child’s food directly on the table. I was with a couple of other people and mentioned how I was completely appalled and grossed out that someone would do that, they looked at me and asked, “What are you some kind of germophobe or something?” Well, so maybe I am a little uncomfortable with germs, but I think feeding your child food from a public table is not only unsanitary but dangerous.

Fact: I don’t cook. And I mean AT ALL. In fact, I don’t grocery shop either. I have no idea what a loaf of bread costs. If I were a contestant on The Price is Right, I would totally lose. All I can say is that it’s a good thing I married a husband who not only likes to cook, but is good at it, too, because if it were left up to me to feed the family we would be eating mac & cheese out a box everyday, because I wouldn’t know how to cook anything else and I wouldn’t want to go to grocery store.

Well, there you have it. If you feel like playing, I now officially tag Kathy, Allison, Christina, Laura, Heather, LA Daddy and CTD.

A Little Bit of This and A Little Bit of That

2007-05-01T09:23:00.000-05:00

A Little Bit of This
Some time ago, I joined an awesome web site called, Indie Bloggers. Lately, I’ve been a little remiss with submitted posts, because, well, I’ve hardly had time to keep up with my own damn blog. Which, I’m sure is obvious to my loyal readers. However, I submitted my post that I wrote about my house hunting adventures a long time ago, and thought it just got lost in submission hell. Well, lo and behold, it’s up on the site today! Ah, it’s nice to be syndicated.

So go check it out, it’s a great site. Lots of awesome writers are part of the group.

A Little Bit of That
Ever question religion? The power of prayer? Well, Friday, when Andrew was at his regular (not the urologist) checkup with his pediatrician, the Dr was concerned that he was not standing up and cruising the furniture yet. As were we, which was a topic we planned to discuss at the visit. Well, he ordered a hip X-ray, and recommended we enroll him in physical therapy with Columbus Children’s Hospital. So those of you who have been reading my blog regularly, and know all the ups and downs we’ve been living through with Andrew lately, you’re saying, “Wha? What else can go wrong with this little kid?” So Friday was not a good day for me. Because in addition to learning about all the deficiencies with my youngest son, I get a call from the speech therapist at my older son’s future school where he is enrolled in Kindergarten. They held an “evaluation” that Dave took him to last Thursday, and discovered he has articulation problems, is socially introverted, and has trouble with motor skills such as cutting and writing. My first response was that if his preschool teachers could hear anybody put the words “CJ” and “socially introverted” in the same sentence, they would surely think they were crazy. So we chalked that up to kindergarten jitters. The articulation problems came as no surprise, and we expected him to most likely visit a speech therapist in the fall, because he does stutter occasionally and has a lisp. And last but not least, the motor skills? Well, I’ve seen him hold a pair of scissors and he cuts just fine, and he writes his name and other words with ease. CJ has been in a very good preschool for the past 2 years, and I have no doubt he will excel in kindergarten, even before we address his speech problems. I appreciate the attentiveness on the part of the teachers at the school, but these days all this scrutiny seems a little like the professional way to “cover-your-ass”. But alas, the prayers from grandma seemed to work. At least someone is going to Church in this family. She was so upset about the possible physical problems with Andrew, she began to pray immediately for him. So for a kid who was just getting a hip X-ray on Saturday at noon, who then decides to start pulling himself up and standing a mere 6 hours later, the timing is a little suspicious. And I kid you not. Since mid-day Saturday he is already an old pro at pulling himself up and stands all the time now. Obviously the hip X-ray came back with no abnormalities, and perhaps it’s divine intervention. Personally, I think the trauma of the hip X-ray scared him into walking. He must have known that we mean business now, and that it’s time to make his debut. I was so excited!

A Little Bit of This
We are closing on the house on May 25th. I’m so freakin' excited I can hardly stand myself. We are literally tripping over ourselves and toys in the place we live in now, and in another strange coincidence, the place we rent now is starting to fall apart just in time. The hot water heater is leaking, when you turn on the outdoor faucet it leaks into the basement, the wood around the French doors leading to the backyard is literally rotting and falling off in pieces, and the holes in the screens are getting so big you can put your fist through them, hence the big wasp we discovered in the kids room one morning. I know it sounds like I live in the ghetto, but I really don’t, it’s just a 2 bedroom townhouse that has seen better days and we are busting at the seams. Personally, all I want at this point is my $500 security deposit back. So I plan to make it so clean you could eat off the floor. I would be surprised if our landlord screws us, because he’s a pretty nice guy, but after renting various dwellings over the past 15 years since college, nothing would surprise me. So it’s all about packing and cleaning in our household these days, while teaching a 15 month old to walk, while trying to entertain a 5 year old. It’s fun, fun, fun. Wanna come over?

A Little Bit of That
And finally, my transition here at work is in full swing. I’m transferring into the marketing group and it should be a much better fit for me and for my skills. What’s funny is that 4 years ago, when we had just moved to Columbus and I was beating down doors to find a job, I couldn’t get arrested in a marketing firm, and so I had to settle on the only job I could find that was nowhere near a match for my skills. Now that an exciting opportunity such as this has landed in my lap, it’s a little unbelievable. Lesson to the kids: perseverance and making friends with the right executives will get you far in life. The weight of providing for the family rests clearly on my shoulders, and I’m treading into uncertain waters, so it would be insincere of me to admit that I am not scared of something new, especially at a time when I just bought a house. And by the quotes I’m receiving for home insurance, I’m getting poorer and poorer by the minute…

Forget About the Labor Pains, It's All About the Boobs and "Me-Time"

2007-04-27T12:04:00.000-05:00

So today, as participants in this great online Baby Shower for Christina, Liz and Tammie, I’ve been assigned to give my full blown, best-ever, rockin’ good parenting ass-vice. Considering that the day before I gave birth to my first son 5 ½ years ago, I was hell bent on him never touching a drop of formula, getting anywhere near a pacifier, playing with nothing but hemp-weaved stuffed animals and wearing organic cotton onesies, I say this to the first-timer, Tammie: never say never. My biggest, earth shattering, hit me over the head, moment of parenting came soon after my first baby was born and he wanted to eat. After my rocky boobs were about to explode in a sorry-ass effort to try and breastfeed, I stared long and hard at the six pack of ready–made formula that landed on our doorstep unsolicited just days before in the mail. Somehow, the marketing experts at Procter and Gamble knew that soon after the baby was home I would cave, after a bumbling attempt to get my newborn baby to latch onto a crusty, bleeding nipple to no avail. Damn those marketers. And I continued to damn them as my hungry baby sucked every last drop from the tiny glass bottle of formula, and promptly drifted off to dreamland….finally. Damn those boobs. Damn those marketers. Wasn’t it all part of their master plan? (muhahahahaha).

But alas, I discovered what I called the best invention since sliced bread (or at least automatic windows): the breast pump! And so I duly pumped away and relieved my achy boobs every 3 hours. Thinking I had outsmarted those marketers at P&G, I felt satisfied in knowing that I at least was giving him my breast milk, if not in the traditional way. And this naïve, unsuspecting attitude when on for, I’d say, oh, about…..2 weeks. Until a funny thing happened. The baby needed more to eat. And more. And more. Lest these boobs became insufficient vendors to a growing baby. And we all know what comes next in this story. Back to the formula. And the whole breastfeeding towel was thrown in when he was about 2 ½ months old, as he was sucking gleefully on his pacifier, sleeping soundly in his mass-produced carter's pajamas, clutching his furry, mass-produced stuff animal.

So Tammie, my ass-vice is this: get your ass to a La Leche League meeting pronto if you have the slightest bit of problems breastfeeding. At least those tree hugging ladies can give you some options, and at the very least, if you still end up throwing in the towel, you can say you at least tried. No offense to the tree hugging ladies of La Leche, I love them. Because after my “trial run” with my first, I was a breastfeeding pro with my second after a few La Leche meetings, a hell of a lot of self-confidence, and no more guilt crap. After ridding myself of all that anxiety with my 2nd, I successfully breastfed him, in addition to pumping milk at work, for over 8 months.

As for Christina and Liz, since this is both of your second babies, and girls, unless your ultrasounds are wrong and your babies are suddenly born with a penis, I’m not quite sure what to say on the technical art of raising your 2nd baby, since I’m the mother of 2 boys. But, there are the logistics that go along with it, that whether you give birth to a girl, a boy or a puppy, that will surely be challenging. To be more exact, if your find yourself currently saying, “I have no time for anything,” you will quickly find out that these are the “good old days” and you will wonder what the heck you did with all your free time. As I’m sure you said that to yourself when your first was born, I hate to break it to you, but there will no longer be time that belongs to you anymore AT ALL. In fact, I’m fairly certain you will even not have anytime to think. I’m convinced I have lost several thousand brain cells since the birth of my 2nd child.

And in your undying quest for information, I give you answers to the most popular inquiry:
Does the 2nd kid get the shaft? Yes. See below.

Does my 2nd child have a baby book? Yes, but if anyone were to read it, they would think he just learned to roll over.

Do I know the exact date he got his first tooth? No, in fact, I’m not even sure which month.

Do I know when he spoke his first word? Are you kidding?

When did he first learn to crawl? Can't tell ya. In fact, he doesn't.

When did he first learn to walk? He doesn't. Which is all part of the major-league grand shaft of the 2nd because you just can't dedicate enough time to your 2nd that he/she needs. Which is why he is being put in physical therapy, as per doctors orders.

So what is the ass-vice in all this? Well, I’ve found having more than one child has been a juggling act, and actually each kid gets the shaft in some way. Both of my kids are struggling in their own ways and it seems there is never a hiatus. But, as scripted as it sounds, I couldn’t imagine life without my youngest son. Having a 2nd child was the best decision my husband and I ever made. It completed us.

This has been a long and exhausting post, I know, but get me going on motherhood and I have lots of things to say. Maybe I should start a blog.

Good luck, Ladies! You’re in my thoughts! Congratulations on this wonderful journey!

A New Baby Is Born

2007-04-24T11:29:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a final step in this whole process toward Andrew’s recovery: his catheter was removed. And while he was screaming bloody murder as me, Dave and the nurse, held him down so the doctor could remove it, he was visibly relieved when it came out. And by the time we returned home, we were parents to a brand new kid. His face literally brightened as his coloring improved, and he was exuberantly laughing with his brother for the rest of the day. Back to his old self. His transformation was so amazing and contrary, it makes you wonder if he was in constant pain for the last 10 days. I mean, obviously he had to have been uncomfortable, but I guess my mind didn’t allow me to think that he could be in constant pain. But all seems better with his mood, and the doctor gave him a clean bill of health. We return 2 months later for an additional follow up, and we can only hope that everything that has been repaired stays intact.

The only thing lately that has been bothersome for him and for us, is that he has been difficult in getting to bed at night for the last 3 nights. And up early in the morning. And restless in the middle of the night. I haven’t had much sleep over the last 10 days and now I’m getting even less. Dave thinks he’s “wired” on all this medication he’s been on. Since he feels comfortable now that the catheter is out, we’re not giving him anymore Tylenol or Motrin tonight. We’ve had to let him cry it out for the past 3 nights and it’s a practice that we’ve never really subscribed to. But it seemed like nothing was working. And even that’s not working 100% because after we get him to sleep, he’s either up 20 minutes later crying again, or up in the middle of the night. Either way, he ends up back in bed with me and Dave moves to the couch.

So between all that, our first house purchase, and a change at work, I’m feeling totally “spent”. I haven't written about this change at work purposefully because I’d like to keep my job, but suffice it to say that I am transferring jobs within the same company, just to a different group. I was approached by my manager about a month ago. The change is expected to take place within the next 2 weeks. It’s exciting, but I am sad about leaving my current job, as I have great colleagues, a fantastic manager, and have hardly had time to get my feet wet since I've only been in my current role since last October. It's indicative of the corporate world, and I get that, but there’s a lot of changes happening at once right now that life is on overdrive right now. The good news is that I have a job, and that there are good people in this company looking out for me. It will be a good move for me. It’s just the timing is bad.

But thank goodness for kids to lighten up the mood. After all this complaining, I’ll leave this post on a lighter note with a question posed to me by CJ while we were at a fancy restaurant for Easter brunch:

A Greek Orthodox priest entered the restaurant, in full dress, and CJ seemed taken aback by his sudden presence by staring at him as he walked across the room to meet his acquaintances at an accompanying table. Having never seen a person of the clergy outside of Church, he says to me, rather loudly if I might add, “Mama, what’s that ‘Godperson’ doing here?”

That’s what I get for skipping Easter service.

Report from Crankyville

2007-04-20T15:59:00.000-05:00

Not much new to report on Andrew. He is still pretty touch and go. I’m not getting much sleep this week, so blogging has been a challenge. He still seems to be quite uncomfortable off and on, and tosses and turns at night. We finally were greeted by a poopy diaper on Tuesday, thank God, as the poor little guy was quite miserable. Although he is still a little gassy and generally just not himself. One consequence to all this is that it has forced him to crawl. He was never a crawler and always “scooted” around on his tush. Since the operation, he immediately adapted to crawling and now rarely scoots. Which supports my theory about the walking, in that I think he will just one day walk when he’s good and ready, because obviously the ability to crawl has been in him all along, and he just didn’t exercise it. He’s a funny one. Definitely different than his people pleasing older brother. So that’s his update. It’s a daily thing that seems to change.

As for CJ, he wiped at the park today while riding his scooter, and is now nursing a skinned knee on the couch. He is anxiously awaiting my arrival home from work.

We’re also working on finalizing the details on the house. We had the inspection on Wednesday and the only outstanding issue is evidence of a leak in the ceiling of the hall closet, that is most likely originating from the master shower. As newbies to this whole house buying process, Dave and I are carefully planning our course of action. We think we’ve opted to request a remedy for this issue, or at least we’re going to ask the sellers to meet us halfway on the repair costs. I’m suspicious on the fact that the owner claims to have “forgotten” about it thus the reason for its mysterious exclusion on the property disclosure, because the seller’s agent claims that the seller states it has never been an issue in the 7 years he has lived there. Do I believe that? Um………….No. Although there is absolutely no way to prove whether he’s lying or not.

As for me, I was planning on going to a girl’s night out with all the local bloggers tonight. For selfish reasons, I really want to go. I have had to turn down the invitation since January due to myriad of issues that seem to keep coming up, and well, just for the fact that I want to get out and have some time to myself. But for motherhood reasons, I’m staying home. I’m generally cranky about it thanks to sleep deprivation, a menstrual cycle, and general feelings of being smothered. I want to crawl inside a bottle of wine right now and not come out until I’m good and drunk. Hopefully the ladies will have a toast on me while I get drunk on my couch watching Talk Soup after the kids (hopefully!) go to sleep.

Andrew's Update

2007-04-16T16:45:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the delay in posting a follow up to last Wednesday’s news about Andrew, but it’s been a whirlwind since last Thursday. From the doctor’s standpoint, the surgery was success. Andrew dealt with being separated from us in the hospital better than I expected, as I handed him over to the nurse who then took him back to the operating room. My eyes swelled with tears, but he didn’t even look back. Which was probably good.

After what seemed like an eternity, about 2.5 hours, were all reunited. Andrew looked all puffy and his voice was scratchy. He was extremely irritable and sleepy. After about 45 minutes in the recovery room, we all left for home, where he dozed on and off in my room for the rest of the day. It was very surreal to see him so sleepy and lethargic, as you usually cannot get him to sit still. He enjoyed a full day of Noggin, with Moose A. Moose and Zee.

The next day was OK, but then Saturday posed an unexpected set of issues: the removal of the bandage. Guys, you might want to skip this section of the post. Most get squeamish when we elaborate. Additionally, anyone else that has issues reading about poop and blood might as well skip this post, too.

As we unraveled the bandage, his skin was red, swollen, bruised, and bleeding. He obviously was screaming, and it took some time to console him. It was soon bedtime, and he took a bottle and feel asleep. But then he woke several times that night extremely uncomfortable and screaming. He likes to lay on his side and he couldn’t since he couldn't fold his one leg over the other since it rubbed against his penis, and he was very gassy. Which surprised me since he hardly had anything to eat over the past 2 days. So after a sleepless Saturday night, his constipation didn’t seem to get any better. He was able to get a little out the following day, but this poor kid is getting red in the face trying to get this bowel movement out and nothing. So last night was another cranky night. It took me a long time to get him asleep and then he was up at midnight, 4am, then 5am, but then finally fell asleep again in my arms by about 6am. But of course, it was about time for me to get up for work anyway, so I’ve pretty much been up off and on since about 4 am. And still no real poop.

So I was talking to a friend at work about this and she mentioned that codeine will constipate you. He has been prescribed Tylenol with codeine as a pain medication in addition to the antibiotic. I thought it was the antibiotic, but I’m beginning to agree that it’s the codeine. So as per the doctor, we’re switching to plain Tylenol. And prune juice. Hopefully that will work. It was the last thing I expected to encounter in all this. He seems less agitated with the actual surgical site and more agitated about being constipated.

So that’s the update. And in all this sleeplessness, and worry, and anxiety, we found out on Saturday that we got the house we put the bid on! We went with this one:

So much going on right now, with 2 completely different emotions about each. Before all this, I recently lost 5 pounds, in a recent attempt to start shedding the baby weight I have yet to lose. Just when my pants were starting to feel a little looser, I ate a big chicken sandwich and large French fries from McDonald’s today. I was starving. And stressed. Oh well, so much for the diet. But I don’t feel too guilty.

Andrew

2007-04-11T15:23:00.000-05:00

The picture at left is one of my favorite pictures of my baby, Andrew. My little bugger. My sweetykins. My babycakes. It was taken last summer, when he was still a rolly polly 7 month old. Currently, he is 15 months old. And much leaner and much more active and talkative.

When I first learned I was pregnant with Andrew it was hard to believe I was capable of loving another human being as much as I love my first born, CJ. As I’ve written before, my relationship with CJ is still different, but during a recent conversation with my mother on the topic, she explained to me that there is no lesser love you have for your second, it’s just you’ve had a longer relationship with your first, so it feels different. And perhaps that is true. Because when we’re alone, and I can devote all my attention to him, my heart melts with joy and love that once before I never knew could happen before he was born. I’m an old pro with him, and he has not had to suffer through the bumblings of early motherhood that CJ has since weathered so well. You know, your first is always your “practice baby”, right? I think that’s what I might have meant when I said in my other post about my relationship with CJ as being so much more “raw”. Things have been swifter with Andrew, and that has nothing to do with the level of relationship, but with the fact that I actually knew what I was doing and life is much easier now than it was 5 years ago for me and my husband.

Andrew seems much less the people pleaser type than CJ, too. In fact, he is still not walking, and when you hold him up to make him try, he looks up and laughs at you as if to say, “You want me to do what? Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Physically there is nothing wrong with his legs, which has been confirmed by his pediatrician. And he never crawled either. He “scoots” around on his tush. He moves around quite fast, and it amazes me that he has developed this alternative method of movement, since I had never seen a baby do that before. My baby’s a genius, you know.

(Hehe. Just kidding….sort of.)

So this post is about Andrew today, my happy go lucky, doing-it-my-way, daredevil-type that we lovingly refer to as Bam-Bam, because tomorrow he will have to endure something that as parents, you never want to see your kid go through. I’ve hesitated blogging about this because it’s not like I need the whole world to be privy to the personal information of my boys, but he was born with a hypospadia at birth and tomorrow is the surgery to correct it. He does not have the severe form of the condition, although it must be corrected, as it is more than just a cosmetic issue. It’s a 2 hour procedure that will take place at the hospital. When he was born, I went through the standard grieving period during which time I scoured my brain for all possible reasons he could have been born this way, and what did I do to him while he was in utero, etc.? After being assured by his doctor that this is not as traumatic as it could be, we went on with our lives and began to wait until the time when his little body would be ready to handle the surgery, as well as the recovery period. And so tomorrow, at 15 months, his little body is ready, whether he knows it or not. I decided to blog about this because I do not know anyone in my offline world that has any experience with this. Does anyone in the blogosphere care to share any experiences relating to this condition that you know of either indirectly or directly?

There could be worse things wrong with your child, I’m aware of that. I’ve always been thankful to have given birth to 2 healthy boys. It’s just dawned on me today that this day is now upon us, after which we’ve done an excellent job these past several weeks of forgetting about the day growing near during all this house hunting. And when Andrew was first born, we knew any impending surgery was far into the future. And so the future is now. I don’t know what to expect during the recovery period other than what the Doctor has prepared us for. Wish him luck.

Acts of Contrition

2007-04-09T14:19:00.000-05:00

Dear Bloggers,

It’s been almost a week since my last post and in that time, I have cleaned my house, played putt-putt with my son and rode go-karts, put a bid on a house and got refused, continued house hunting, went to a park, opened a bank account for my son, got my winter coat back out of the closet, drank lots of wine, cheated on my diet, did not attend mass on Easter Sunday, and didn’t read one blog...

To say I am suffering with penitence would not be an accurate statement. I feel a little bad for not blogging. Bad, like as if I’ve just lied to a nun. So will you ever forgive me?

Sometimes there are days when I just don’t have a thing to say. Some days I have so much to say I don’t know how to keep it concise. All I know is, all last week, there was too much to do in my “real” life that I could hardly find time to turn the computer on. It was more about actually spending time with my kids, rather than writing about them. Wow, what a concept.

Now it’s my turn to catch up with all of you. Of course, the blog world goes on without me. But before I took a hiatus, I had managed to nominate someone for a Perfect Post, as well as conduct an interview. Go check it out, because there’s some good posts. Heather's responses are great, and Christina's post is so neatly packed up into perfection, I thought it was the best she's ever wrote.

And there’s news to share on my house hunting saga. We put a bid in on the house that I blogged about and loved, but our counter offer was refused. We put a low-ball bid in because of the amount of work that needs to be done, then she countered back, then we countered, but then she refused. What kills me is that the difference between our counter offers was only $6,100.00. This house has been on the market for over 160 days. The owner’s realtor explained to us that it’s been hard for the seller to come to terms with the fact that she is going to lose money on the house, so she wants to hold out for a better offer. Pffft. Whatever. But you mark my words. That house will continue to sit on the market for many more weeks and probably end up selling for the exact price we just offered. I plan to keep my eye on it.

So, in the wake of that disappointment, we have decided to change our strategy a little, which, might turn out for the better. We’ve seen about 25 houses that are greater than 60 years old because I really love the charm of an old house. What I’ve come to recently realize, is that you get about 500 square feet less space for the same price in the these character homes than you do for a cookie cutter home. A few months ago I would sooner die than move into a subdivision, with its bland windows, vinyl siding, plastic shudders and plywood doors. But now, the fact that it’s just come to my attention that I can get a 4 bedroom house with 2 ½ baths with 1778 square foot of living space, as opposed to 3 bedrooms and 1 bath with 1,200 square feet that needs work, I’m starting to lower my standards for “charm”. Hence, we’ve been introduced to this house:

Don’t ask me why the owners chose to photograph their house with a used car lot in their driveway, but this house is double the living space we are in right now and in a great school district. So what’s the catch right? There’s always a catch with these homes. Every single home has had a major con. Mostly it’s the “Clampetts” next door, one time there was a right of way easement on a property, sometimes there’s water in the basement, a leak in the roof, a horrible animal stench, a 2nd rate school district, more rehab than we can handle…. Well you get the picture. We’re in a tough price range. So the catch with this one is…… there are train tracks about 100 feet away. But! Before you say, “resale nightmare”, hear me out. There’s a fancy shmancy neighborhood in the next town that just built $400,000 homes right next to the same train line. And people are buying them. So who’s to say some middle class chick like myself can’t be too good to buy a home near the tracks, too right? There are 2 lines that run through Columbus, and this one has about 4 trains a day. Of course, my son, CJ, who is obsessed with trains and wants to be a train engineer, has picked this house as his favorite. Of course, he won’t be needing to resell this house when he moves out and goes college.

So tonight we are seeing a couple more houses in the same neighborhood that are not on the tracks that are the same price. This is a very good school district and a nice neighborhood. And whether we buy the house on the tracks or not, we will be totally stretching our budget to get any one of these 25 houses we have been looking at. I’m a little stressed about the reality of sending a check off for almost double what I pay in rent right now. We can do it, but there will be no vacations, and no new clothes for a while, and not much of an entertainment budget, and certainly no dinners at restaurants. Is this too crazy? Problem is, I don’t see what my choices are to scale back to. Scaling back means settling on a neighborhood that I’m not familiar with or a less desirable school district, or a bigger condo. Tonight we’re going to see this house:

It’s on a cul-de-sac. A plus. I like the look of the house and pictures of the interior look good. But, after 25 houses, I’ve learned that pictures lie. They flat out lie. So we’ll see. Could this finally be the one? Wish me luck.

Mom's Day Out

2007-04-03T09:02:00.000-05:00

This week I've hung up the hat of working mom and are taking a much needed vacation from work. However, as all parents know, since we don't have a planned trip to Hawaii or something cool like that, did I really think I was getting a vacation by staying home all week? Um..........no.

It's OK, because I've been able to spend some more time with the kids. Especially CJ. Who, ever since we had Andrew last year, has had to reluctantly share all his time with us, after having it all to himself for over 4 years. Having another child has added a great amount of stress as well as a tremendous amount of joy from a parenting perspective, but I can't help but think about how the adjustment has affected CJ. It bothers my husband very little, who was 18 months apart from both of his sisters, both older and younger. So sharing for him as always been a reality. For me, though, I was the baby girl of the family, the "accident", as I was 10 and 8 years younger than my 2 older brothers. So I never had to share. But CJ has seemed to have adjusted appropriately and is now wearing the hat of an older brother well. Most of his tantrums occurred early on last year, and as for his feelings now, I would have to say that they run very deep for his little brother.

I think about CJ often because he is my firstborn. I don't say that to insinuate that I favor him over Andrew, but I think your relationship with your firstborn is very different than with your subsequent children. It's a little more raw. It's visceral because you sweated the early days of parenting with this child. They don't know that, but you do, and those memories are planted very deep into our brains. They don't go away.

Additionally, for our family at least, there seems to be a stronger connection between Dave and Andrew. Even though Dave was home with CJ as a baby, too, CJ usually favored me. Or, to put it more accurately, my best friend says that CJ has me wrapped around his finger. Either way, Andrew is much more attached to Dave than CJ ever was, which became very evident the other night when he was having trouble getting to sleep and he cried when I picked him up as he was pointing to Dave. Dave held him and he stopped crying and was back to sleep within 5 minutes. You give a kid life and then your boob for 9 months and this is the thanks you get?

Anyway, in the spirit of our relationship, CJ and I had a "Mom's Day" yesterday as he calls it. He's off school this week for Spring Break. It was a beautiful Spring day, and we took advantage of it by playing putt-putt and riding go-karts. Then off to Burger King for a quick lunch and more playtime on the indoor playground. We had a blast. CJ hasn't stopped talking about golf since.

CJ is an extremely loquacious and curious little boy. There is a constant stream of questions and observations coming out of his mouth as is demonstrated by some of the chatter that went on yesterday in the car:

"When was the sun born?"

Before the planet earth.

"What would happen if you 100 babies?"

I would implode. Or be mistaken for a rabbit.

"What happened to the dinosaurs?"

They died.

"When can I ride my bike?"

Soon, honey.

"Am I gonna be able to ride my bike today?"

Yes, honey, as soon as Mama makes a pit stop at Kohl's. (Hey, it's my day off, too, right?)

More Useless Information About Me

2007-03-28T16:32:00.000-05:00

Since all I've been doing lately is moaning about house hunting, I thought I'd shake it up a little and take Mrs. Chicky's offer on an interview. Because you just didn't know enough about me, right? I know the suspense is killing you. So without further adieu, here goes...

1. You've done gone crazy and pulled a Britney. You've shaved off all your
hair and you're about to get a tattoo. What tattoo do you get to detract
from your poor choice in hairstyle?

Owning up to my insanity, I would rent my bald head for ad space. Might as well keep it going. For me, it's all or nothing in life.

2. If you could pick one feature from your dream home to be your favorite
what would that feature be?

My favorite feature in my dream home is my own art room/office. No one else would be allowed to enter this room. I would be the sole owner of the key to this room. Anyone caught entering would be punched. Including the kids.

3. Sorry, you can only eat one flavor of ice cream for the rest of your
life. But you get to pick. What flavor would that be?

Absolutely chocolate. And it would have to be Ben & Jerry's.

4. Dog or cat person?

More of a cat person. I have had a psycho, moody cat for the past 12 years and I couldn’t live without her even though she’s a pain in the ass. But I think Border Terrier’s are the cutest dogs on earth. So maybe one day I’ll get a dog. Either way, I’m an animal lover in general.

5. What's your shoe size and favorite type of shoe?

Thanks to my kids, I’m now a 7 ½. Formerly a 7. My favorite shoes are sandals because that means it's summer. My favorite season of the year.

So have I made your day with all this intriguing information? At least you didn't have to live through insufferable tales of house hunting woes. But thanks everyone for offering your two cents on the house of my choice. More to come on that topic.

Would anyone else care to play along? If so, let me know and I'll be sure to send you some questions. Because it's all about us, right?

Honey, I'm Home (I think)

2007-03-26T14:57:00.000-05:00

So just when I thought we had found the house we really liked and could easily afford, the city of Columbus owns part of the property. There’s something called a right of way easement on the property and there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of getting it vacated.

After a long conversation with my mother who happens to be an administrator for a planning and zoning board in New Jersey, she knew all about easements and suggested we walk away. So we did. These poor owners have been trying to sell this property on and off since 2005. Mental note: do your homework before signing on the dotted line.

So once again, the house hunting resumed on Saturday. I was truly disappointed by the outcome on the house that had the easement because I was fully expecting to put a bid on the property and start packing. But such is life. There are worse things.

So I went into our house hunting for the 5th straight weekend in a row with guarded optimism. I really needed to calm down and take a deep breath and understand that this is a tremendous process. We saw the first house, and I thought, “OK, well this isn’t the one. Let’s move onto the next.” The kids were being pretty patient and it was a sunny and pleasant Spring afternoon. So off to the 2nd house we went with our buyer’s agent. We entered the front door of this house and I said, “I am home.”

It’s a 2 story Dutch Colonial in a great neighborhood with crown molding, chair rails, built-in bookcases and corner cabinets, hard wood floors, a second floor porch, a front porch with a swinging bench, a large backyard with a deck, 3 bedrooms and a playroom off the kitchen. So what is wrong with this place? This house was built in 1925 and it has the original windows (enough said), the driveway needs replaced and at the high range of our budget is totally capping out our funds. But this house has great character, and it’s a great location. We’re expecting good resale value because the old adage in realty is location, location, location, right?

So unfortunately I’m on the road for business most of this week, so my husband is going to look at it again on Thursday, at which time, we most likely will put in a bid. We need the owner to come down in price in order for us to actually afford the home based on the down payment we’re providing, and to feel like we’ve gotten somewhat of a deal, considering the work it needs.

It’s the first house my husband and I have actually agreed upon as well. I hope the optimism remains for him when he sees it on Thursday. We’re going through this whole house hunting process in two completely different ways. He seems to think we have eternity to find the “perfect” house and I’m a more impatient person who wants to find it yesterday. I’ve been wanting to move from our townhouse for a very long time. Our buyer’s agent summed up our house hunting perspective perfectly: he’s the voice of reason, and I have the emotional connection. Which I guess is a good balance. I just hope we can come to a finalization soon. I want to move before the summer begins. I’m hoping this house works out to be the one. We will be totally strapped for cash in the beginning. But I can’t help but ask myself, “Do I really have an option?” My son, CJ will be starting kindergarten this summer, and not to mention my kids need a yard. A neighborhood. A place to have their friends over. And frankly, who would deny this face a happy home?

Deep Thoughts

2007-03-22T14:38:00.000-05:00

There was a film history professor at Rutgers University that told me he was shocked I had graduated from the 8th grade with my poor writing skills. Considering that I fancied myself a good writer, I was obviously devastated by what he told me. He was the first teacher that ever told me that. Besides the fact that I might have wrote that term paper in record time with a hangover to meet the deadline, that still didn’t warrant such an insulting bitch slap. But at the moment, as a 20 year old visual arts student, I hung to my creative talents like threads of life and for someone to tell me I was a terrible writer, he might as well have stuck a knife in my heart. In other words, I was an extremely sensitive, emotionally weak struggling artist searching for the meaning in my work and whether or not I should even continue to pursue my desire to be a filmmaker. Today I would tell the guy to go fuck himself. The fact that I never became a filmmaker or a photographer had nothing to do with that teacher, but more to do with the lack of courage and guidance, and a real need to pay back school loans. But I digress…

Now, I know I’m not a great writer, but I think of myself as an OK writer. I’ve always loved to write, I kept a diary all through elementary school, high school and part of college, and writing a book has always been on my top ten list of things to do before I die. I hope I live a long time because I’ve got several “chapter ones” lying around that seem to be going nowhere. I’m going to need a lot more time once my kids grow up to finish any of those. This pesky full time job just keeps getting in the way of all my worldly pursuits.

So imagine my surprise when someone whom I truly respect as an insightful and witty writer, nominates me as someone who makes her “think”? Me? Make somebody think? I’m utterly flattered and completely surprised. I’m so grateful that there’s someone else out there in blog land who actually relates to something I’ve said. Several months ago I would never have imagined this cathartic exercise of blogging. Now today, I’m shushing my kids to try and blog. And a couple months ago, I had the great fortune of meeting Christina, from A Mommy Story, who shares the Buckeye state with me.

So without further adieu, thanks, Christina, for bestowing on me the Thinking Bloggers Award. Me love you. And me thank you. So screw that professor in college. If he could see me now…

And as is customary with this award, I'm going to share the love. There's another female blogger out there that is not only an excellent writer, but through her painful experiences, has moved me in so many ways. I have never personally met her, but through her words I feel like I know her. She has experienced unmeasurable grief, and has opened her world to us through her blog. And for that I thank her. I award the next Thinking Blogger award to Karla, of Untangling Knots.

Does This Hideous Kitchen Have to Come with the House?

2007-03-20T15:53:00.000-05:00

I am officially sick of house hunting.

I know I introduced this in my last post, but I'm back again to bitch about the stress. As of this writing, we have officially looked at a little over 20 houses. Houses in good neighborhoods, houses in artsy neighborhoods, cheap houses, expensive houses, new houses, old houses, small houses, large houses, houses with awesome kitchens, houses with ugly kitchens, nice bathrooms, disgusting bathrooms... Well, you get the picture. A house for sale in our neighborhood in our price range? I can provide you with the complete profile of that house instantaneously. Why? Because I've looked at it already! I should be in realty. And speaking of a career in realty, you know what pisses me off the most about a realtor? When you go to an open house, and ask the realtor which elementary school is in the district, and they don't know the answer. WTF? Do your homework! I thankfully have a buyer's agent who's been doing a lot of the footwork for us, but we've been to the occasional open house with him and the fact that they don't have correct information on schools drives me nuts.

And I know I’ve been a little lax with blogging lately. All of this has been so hard to get into words lately. But then it occurred to me that I should be sharing all of my house hunting woes with all of you! Misery loves company right? I'm actually really excited because this will be my first home purchase, but it's just that the wind is starting to leave my sails, and all the houses I've seen are starting to blur into one another. But we’re getting into the nitty-gritty stage. We’re beyond the “Wow! We’re going house hunting!!” stage to the “We’re going house hunting again this weekend?” stage. We're thinking of bidding on a particular property. Just typing the words, 'bidding on a property', make my hands shake, so forgive me while I breathe.

Breathe.

Okay, I'm better now. Back to complaining.

My house is a mess because I’ve done no cleaning on the weekends. And everyone within a six mile radius of my desk at work knows I’m house hunting. The good news is that I’m currently a renter so I have no property to unload. Bad news is that I’m not rich and can only afford a small house. But it’s a house, right? So what if the bathroom is small. I can start to practice standing up while I pee. Guys do it. I could probably find a way.

So, readers, I give to you a sampling of the homes we’ve viewed over the course of a few weeks, just to bring you up to speed. These have been a few front-runners:

The dirty/needs a lot of work home

The gorgeous, newly renovated expensive home

The house that needs so much work no one wants to touch it with a ten foot pole home (although I love the look of it on the outside! So we really need a working toilet?)

The needs updating/good school district possible winner home

Life Hunting

2007-03-14T14:07:00.000-05:00

My husband and I were married in August of 1998. I was 27 and he was 38. Since then, we have lived in 5 states. Moving to escape the rat race, moving to escape a certain climate, moving to “start over” and moving to “begin again”. We’ve lived where we are right now for a little over 3 years. While that might not seem like a long time to some, that is close to a lifetime compared to our track record. Going back in my head, trying to dissect the very reasons we chose to move all over the country, it had nothing to do with logic. To others I’m sure it seemed like we were running from something. To us, we actually were running towards something. Trying to find ourselves in another community, searching for who we are as human beings, and where we might be the most successful. It never seemed to quite work out and we lost a lot of money and survived many arguments throughout all the traveling. But we would trade nothing for the adventure that we had.

You might think since we have been living in our current state for over 3 years now that we’ve found something. That we’ve actualized a bit of ourselves, inching closer to happiness. That would be a convenient and happy ending to a half decade of running, but it is not the way it is. While I don’t like where I live, I don’t hate it. And while I complain about the lack of things to do and see, I continue to search out activities and remain optimistic. I’ve come to terms with my where we've arrived, after a long internal battle, and actually call my town “home”.

Additionally, after a long employment search while I typed away at a dead-end job, I landed a great job. Not just a higher paying job, but a career changing job. Life was turning toward the up and up. Things seemed brighter again. The future seemed more promising as I watched my children sleep snug in their warm beds. And so purchasing a home seemed like the next step to consider. Since our comfort level has increased and our family has grown from 3 to 4 with the arrival of our baby last year, I was all right with calling this place “home”. This place would one day be described by my sons as their “hometown”. My husband and I were excited. We were ready. After years of renting, with no feet firmly in place anywhere on this earth, we were ready to plant the seeds. And so began the house hunting.

And just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, life throws you a curve. There came the possibility from upper management at work, that my job might best be conducted in another state, 400 miles away. In a big city. An exciting city. However, a city we are not familiar with. So, yet again, a new city. Another new city. Do we want this? At first, we jumped on board. Yes, transfer me to this great, new city! It would be a great opportunity for me and my career! It’s not like we’re unaccustomed to moving, right? We can handle it. We have done it many times before. We’re pros.

But like bringing an aging pitcher out of retirement, we were achy. Slow. Tired. The air seemed to be leaking out of our spirits fast. Do we want to move again? But we were never happy here in the first place, right? Or were we?

Happy would not be the right word to describe it. Happy is how I feel when I get home from work and wrap my arms around my children. Happy is when it’s summertime and I feel the warmth of the sun tanning my skin while my toes dangle in a pool. No, happy wouldn’t be how I would describe my feelings for the state in which I live. Content. That is more appropriate. But is that settling? Have I grown so weary of adventure since becoming a mother that the sheer weight of that responsibility has made me immobile?
I would like to think that my vigor for life has not left me with the onset of parenthood. However, our focus shifts to less adventurous things like good school districts, a nice home, access to good healthcare and insurance, all those things that, dare I say, make us…. safe?

I assume that is the cyclical nature of life. We bring to our children all the lessons learned and our valuable education not only from school but from the streets. Because it’s their turn to be adventurous right? There will be a time one day when these birds will be freed from their nests to investigate the world on their terms and in the most appropriately reckless way possible. That right of youth has passed me now. It’s going to be their turn soon. And I would be lying if I said there isn’t a hint of jealously. As it turns out we are not moving away from this town. We are henceforth sentenced to the contentness of this tiny Midwestern mecca. But for some reason, at this ripe old age of 36, it doesn’t seem so bad after all. And I don’t feel like I’ve settled one bit.

This post has been a long time coming. There has been a tremendous amount of stress over our living conditions lately and we’ve officially started our house hunting. And I haven’t known how to put this all into words.

Lost 3x11: "Enter 77"

2007-03-08T13:16:00.000-05:00

I’b a little sick right nowb, so I bissed the first 10 binutes of Lost last night…

I’m so sick of this weather and now I can’t believe I’ve caught a cold. Now I’m desperately attempting to avoid my kids so not to spread the germs, because if one of the kids get it, we all know it will be this cyclical travel of germs back and forth until summer. It’s very hard not to help my husband with the kids at night by just staying in bed and sipping hot tea, but really I’m trying my best!

As for Lost, last night’s episode was very suspenseful. And how big is this freakin’ island? The explosion that rocked last night’s final scene was pretty big and loud, so I can’t imagine the rest of the inhabitants didn’t notice. Thanks, Locke, for yet again another stellar performance on the computer. Not only can you make the sky purple by not pushing the button, but you can also cause explosions. You might consider taking some time off from the keyboard before you melt or turn orange or something.

Thanks to Sayid’s perseverance we have a map to the Others’ camp! One request I have of the writers, is that I hope they don’t drag out the search for Jack until the end of the season. I’m getting a little tired of the physical battles between the Losties and the Others. Last night’s episode didn’t really answer any questions, just raveling the mystery even further into the unknown as is usual for the show. It was progress, just progress toward more of the unknown. And anyone for a little game of ping pong while everyone else is out busy saving the world? I love the contrast of the beach people, while Sayid, Kate and Locke are out in the jungle kicking ass and blowing up huts. Truly entertaining in a very Gilligan Island meets 24 kind of way.

Well, enough of me pretending to be a TV writer. Back to my cold. March seems to be my worst month when it comes to sickness. I’ve had some of my worst sicknesses in the month of March. WTF? Just when I’m ready to spring into spring and put winter behind me, it’s like the germs who seemed to have been lying dormant for months rear their ugly heads to play one more evil joke on me.

To Parents: A Nickel Bag a Day Keeps the Tantrums Away

2007-03-05T13:15:00.000-05:00

Attention parents: there’s a new way to handle your cranky toddler! Teach him how to smoke weed! Don’t waste your money on parenting books, spend your hard earned cash on ganja!

In all seriousness, needless to say, I was appalled by this recent story out of Fort Worth, Texas. Of course my knee-jerk reaction was, where’s the parents? According to the story, the mother is sleeping in a back bedroom, while her brother, the boys’ uncle, and his friend, encourage the kids to smoke pot. By the video, and according to the police report, it’s not the first time these kids have experimented with wacky weed.

At this point, I could go on by writing an enormously long post about child abuse and neglect. I could shout out from my soapbox about how the mom needs to get out of bed in the middle of the day and watch her kids. I could also write about how a story like this validates all the negative assumptions we make about a certain class of people.

But I won’t. Me? Moi? The most opinionated person my friends know? No, today I’m hesitating on shouting out from my ivory tower. Not because I can tolerate people giving marijuana to kids, but because I have no idea what the whole story is. So many people write posts about how “shocking” and “unbelievable” a recent news story was. But honestly, what I have to say is: Believe it. This goes on in our country. This is the reality of child neglect that is happening even as I write this post. So am I mad about this story? Hell yes I am. But here’s the real question I’d like to pose: how did the mother get into the situation of having to nap in the back bedroom while she left her small children in the care of their uncle and stoner friend, while apparently there seems to be no father in the picture. I can only hope she’s not sleeping in the back bedroom in the middle of the day because she, too, is stoned. She might be sleeping because she has to work third shift to provide for her kids. I have no idea. All I know is that this shit goes on everyday under our noses. Kids are smacked, punched, stabbed, shot, smothered, shaken, neglected and sexually abused everyday. The interesting thing about this story, is that it only came to the attention of the police because they were searching the house for stolen goods and came across the video equipment which was used to tape this incident, on a stolen camera. Had they not been raiding the house for other reasons, none of us would be aware of it today.

The kids are now in foster care. My bet is, in a few weeks, they’ll be back at home. This time, I’m sure the cameras will be turned off, where it will be up to the “system” to keep an eye on them from now on. I can only hope that smoking pot is the worst of what they are experiencing, but something tells me there's more.

Bangthology: The School Years

2007-03-02T13:52:00.000-05:00

I'm so late to the party, but it was such a kick to see some of my favorite bloggers' hair anthology that I had to jump on the bandwagon. So here's a short history of me, according to my hair:

1978: The Boy Cut

1983: The Sha-Na-Na phase?

1985: The Miami Vice phase with appropriate teen attitude

1987: My Tribute To Molly Ringwald

1989: Finally mastering the art of teasing upon graduation