Work

It's kinda hard to feel sorry for myself with so much promise exploding outside-buds, bees, birds, flowers...pretty hard to keep me down today. And 75 degrees? Perfect.

But, we've been through a lot this week. When the kids are older, maybe even when they have kids of their own, I think we'll look back on this and say, man, remember when Collin was in kindergarten and everyone got Rotavirus? That was terrible. As in, it doesn't ever have to happen again. Ever.

Truth be told, only half of us have had it. That's the scary part. Poor Collin has already lost 10% of his body weight, and refuses to eat and drink much of anything. He does take comfort in white milk, something he has long abhorred. That's odd. But, whatever will stay down and isn't complained about is okay with me at this point. It's been very trying, and HE'S been very trying. He's a terrible sick kid. I remember as an older baby, he had a stomach flu, and completely slept through the throwing up part. Of course, the diarrhea lasted for days, as it is now, but there's not much to be done about that. My mom tells me I always got it badly, too. Yay, genetics. Anyway, Gordon and I each briefly escaped, and later we agreed that it was such a nice break. I'm certain he was happy as a clam to go to work.

The tv's been on every waking moment. That, of course, has resulted in Collin wanting every toy that is currently offered. There is also a constant stream of "Mama! Get Splenda! It's sweet, but not sugar...you won't get fat!" and "Mama! Why don't you ever listen to the tv? Just press OnDemand, so you don't have to go to the movie store or wait for the mail!" So, yeah, Collin must be a little better.

Now, it's Monday morning, and Cameron is "sick", too. At 8am, she looked perfectly fine, but claimed her belly didn't feel right. Gordon wondered if we should let her stay home. I shrugged and went back to bed. Now, she looks like she might not feel great, but admitted that most of the problem is the fear of throwing up in school. I can't say that I blame her. Her teacher is the man who, when a kid asks to go to the nurse for nausea, tells them to get the garbage can and sit back down. Which reminds me that I was supposed to have a meeting about him with the principal today. Which reminds me that while I feel like I really need a vacation from this whole mothering thing, there is much more work to be done this week.

By the Water

I finally got all three of my kids to the beach (that's the local beach at Downs Park, of course) at the same time.  They had so much fun, and were so busy.  They ran back and forth a million times, collecting sticks, building stick "houses".  Cameron met a girl from Germany who had eczema worse than she does.  We were free and carefree, the way it should be...at least most of the time.  I used to feel like that a lot with them, at various stages in my life.  Sometimes when it was only Cameron, sometimes when it was just Cameron and Collin, and finally all three after Noah was born.  I don't know what happened after that-I lost some of that sense of communion with my children, and I certainly didn't often feel a great four-way connection with them.  Saturday, I felt like it was me and them in the world, and nothing else mattered.  There is freedom in that feeling, and happiness and peace, too.

There must have been a small craft advisory in effect, because the bay was so choppy.   The tide was so high that we couldn't pass the way we usually do to get to the beach, nor could we sit in our usual spot.  It was windy, and as soon as the sun started to dip, it became chilly, too.  The children were beautiful, in that almost-sunset light, and their hair blowing.  I watched the bay change colors from minute to minute, and felt beautiful  myself...simply because of my feelings and surroundings.

The littlest boy showed signs of needing to leave first.  I think he's hypoglycemic or something.  He dug through my insulated bag, which contained only drinks, insisting that I give him something to eat.  I assured him there was no food in the bag.  A couple of times, he even picked up a few pieces of trash off the beach, asking if he could eat them.  I took the opportunity to fill two sand pails full of trash from the beach for us to carry out.  I don't know if it was because of the weekend and increased traffic, or the high tide depositing more than a normal amount of trash, or what...but I know that I don't want to see it next time we go.

Anyway, so we went to Pastore's-I was thinking maybe we could eat dinner for the $15 I had in my pocket.  Did I ever find a deal!  You can actually get an 18" 1 topping pizza for $7.99!  Of course, the drinks were like $2 each, but the boys could share and I didn't want one because I had water in the car.  Ah, but then the children saw the case of cannolis, tiramisu, and cakes.  How can you say no to that?  Actually, our dessert cost more than our dinner.  It was worth it, though, and I didn't have to cook late in the evening.

I see many more days like that in our future this summer.  I see many dinners being eaten there on that beach-cold sandwiches, or maybe some chicken made ahead of time.  It's a shame they don't like salads.  Maybe they will learn what I know to be true...everything tastes better when you're outside, especially by the water.

Crisis and Luxury

Last night was a little more excitement than I bargained for.  We had dinner at Three Brothers, since I'm a slacker housewife and had nothing much in the house to cook.  That was nice, except that Noah had his babyTurrett's going on.  You know, he'd just be sitting in the high chair and he'd throw is napkin, "I dont' WANT this na'kin!"  His has new frog rain boots, which he's been wearing with everything, as I don't have the energy to insist otherwise.  I've learned from MJ that I need to pick my battles, and this is definitely one area that's just not worth it.  Anyway, before the food even arrived, he kicked them off, shouting that he didn't want the boots on anymore.  He shouted for his food;  he wanted a bite of mine...but when I tried to give him a bite he shouted that he didn't want it.He was simply hungry, and probably a bit tired still.  He wanted to eat a bite of my sauce, not my food.  I was supposed to know this.

After dinner, we came home and Cam had to get her shower and get ready for bed...but she complained that she couldn't breathe well and she was wheezing.  She's never actually been diagnosed with athsma, but she does have respiratory distress when her allergies kick in.  After she got in bed, she called me twice to say that she couldn't breathe and she was scared.  I asked her if she needed to go to the doctor right away, and she said yes.  Her lips weren't bluish, and she could hold a coversation, so I was concerned but not terrified.  I didn't need to call an ambulance, but I wasn't going to call for an appointment with Nighttime Peds, either.  We drove to the hospital, amidst many protests from a very scared little girl.

We didn't have to wait too long.  The doctor scolded me for having the house open...I knew it was better for it to be closed, but I really thought it wouldn't affect her so badly.  She does shower before bed every night, and she has a window air conditioner in her room (we have central in the rest of the house).  Not to mention, I'd really love to smell the spring air.  It would also be nice to forego the $300 gas & electric bill for a couple of months.  Anway, they gave her an albuterol nebulizer treatment, and she was much better.  Cam talked non-stop, partially from feeling better and the albuterol making her nervous, and partially because she was so tired.  They sent us home with an inhaler of the same.  In the forever that you have to wait before being discharged, there was a commotion.  Three other children had come in for the same problem (totalling five).  The respiratory therapists were running around like crazy, with kids literally receiving treatments on chairs in the hallway. 

And then there was a two-week-old baby.  He arrived about half an hour before we left.  I heard bits and pieces of his story, and his constant screams.  On my way out to exit admission, I saw his terrified father, standing over his tiny little self, trying to console him.  His mother looked vacant.  The doctor was right outside our room, calling for the helicopter to transfer him-I don't know whether it was to University or Hopkins.  Either way, that little baby was very sick, and I prayed for him and his new family.  I just can't imagine being those parents.  I have had scary situations with my own children, namely Noah, but nothing that comes even close.  It wasn't lost on me that I was walking out of there with my daughter holding my hand, and they were getting ready to put their baby on a helicopter.  I was so thankful that it wasn't me, but so sorry for their plight.

I was glad to see my friend Kim.  She works there, and had seen our name and stopped in to say hi and see what was going on.  I wish she could have chatted with us the entire time, it would have put me more at ease.

Anyway...today we visit our regular doctor.  Might as well take the whole lot of them and make sure they're all ok, since they've all been suffering with the allergies; especially since we're coming up on the weekend.  I guess it would probably be a good idea to play inside today, despite my desire to do otherwise.  I tell myself that this is only temporary, and it is manageable.  The other parents may not have that luxury.

Sights & Sounds

My husband is a deaf bastard. That, and he listens psychologically. By that, I mean, if he' hopes it's interesting, he turns it up. If he wants me to be interested, he turns it up. If it's funny, he turns it up. This somehow increases the humor. Likewise, volume increases a song's quality. You get the picture...and I get a headache. I think many men carry the same gene.

My middle son, Collin, has been going through some stuff lately. He hasn't been sleeping as well...meaning, he gets out of bed several times each night, or alternatively, plays in his room by 4watt nightlight. You may already know that he's been drawing on doors and ceilings and Lord knows what else. He has also been lying ALL THE TIME. In fact, he lied about having written on the ceiling. He is blaming everything on his brother. I know it's just a stage in his "development" (why do they have to develop into lying, cheating mini-men?), but it's old already. I wish I knew the cause of it all. Is he bored? I can certainly empathize with understimulation. Is he nervous about something? Unsure of his place in the home? I don't know. And my daughter...every time she gets punished, she freaks out. She rants, screams, blames everyone else, acts like an idiot. The baby has also been ranting, as well as pinching, biting, hitting, yelling, etc. What am I doing wrong, lately?! I feel like a terrible mother. I used to have much more of a handle on my children, it seems.

Ah, but spring is among us! It's been warmer during the day, here on the east coast, which means I have not been home. Today was particularly gorgeous, and a spent a portion of it on Black Hole Creek, at my friend's house. You can't ask for much better scenery than that. Perhaps everyone's moods will improve once they've run off the winter blues outside?

Back to Reality

We arrived home from the beach a little while ago. As soon as I opened the door, the phone rang and it was my mom. We had planned to go down to the Inlet to mess around on the boardwalk before leaving, but the idea was scrubbed because it was so cold and windy, and because the kids already got souvenirs. My mother had called to say that right about the time we were leaving (and would have been going to the boardwalk), there was a 9 alarm fire to which 21 fire companies responded, which destroyed Dough Roller, some t-shirt place, and part of Marty’s Playland. All I could think was, oh no, the claw machines!

This weekend went pretty well. G and I got along fairly well, except the time he told me I was oppressive (he claims he was kidding). Remember how I said one unseasonably warm day wouldn’t hurt? Well, God delivered...it was a good 75 degrees on Friday, and I was acutally sweaty on the beach while walking in my jeans and sweater. It was therapy! I even saw one silly girl in her bathingsuit. Saturday and today, though, back to normal-wind and cold! We had a pretty good time...helped out with the youth group, and it’s always good to see our old friends there. MJ went down, too, so we got to hang out with her a little. We ate at Tequila Mockingbird, which I LOVE (thanks, MJ)! My only complaint was that I didn’t get to have any Thrasher’s fries or Dumser’s mint chocolate chip ice cream...but I guess there’s always later in the summer.

There were lots of funny things this weekend...Cameron calling the hotel a "ho-towel", Noah calling the elevator an "alligator", and the fact that we were so disgusted with our bent-frame terrible hotel bed that we took the mattress off and put it on the floor. It didn’t cave in any more, but it didn’t make it much more comfortable, either. I’m really looking forward to sleeping in my Beautyrest tonight! However, it, too, is worn out and we really need to look into getting a new one. I am pushing hard for a king this time (we have a queen, now). G thinks it will take up too much space in our room, but I think if we downsize our nightstands (they are huge), it will fit nicely. On the other hand, that would require buying a whole new bedroom set. Ah, yes...here I go...

So, the minivan has had her first roadtrip with our family. No on puked in it, thank God, and most of the mess has already been cleaned out of it, even. I do have to take it to the car wash to rinse all the salt off of it. It was really very comfortable, and even though I thought I wouldn’t, I fit everything in nicely. However, when we go to Myrtle Beach for an entire week, obviously there will be more stuff. I don’t know how that’s going to pan out. I am pretty sure we’re going to have to get a "turtle"...you know, the big storage container that goes on the roof of the vehicle. G is sure that it will kill the gas mileage, but who cares...I’d rather have that and be able to see out the back window.

Cameron had her first soccer game this evening. What a fiasco. She was on one team, then another coach called and said she’d been put on his team...I told him he needed to get with the first coach and figure it out...the second coach called me back to say that she should stay on the first team. Well, now they’re saying she’s supposed to be on the other team (even after she’s already practiced with her first team, and frankly, the first coach is nicer and doesn’t have a cultural identity issue like the second one does). The first coach insisted that she play with them tonight, which I thought was very nice. We’re supposed to hear from the soccer commissioner as to whether she stays with the good team or has to move to Coach Gangsta Wannabe’s team. I already know I’m going to have issues if she does have to switch teams.

Anyway, so it’s back to the same old thing tomorrow. I’ve been so busy that I don’t feel like I got a break at all...but it was nice not to do dishes or laundry and stuff for a few days. G was supposed to be off work tomorrow, but he has decided not to be, for whatever idiot reason. He was saying how he has so much time to take off this year, if he doesn’t start scheduling it soon, he’s going to lose it. I swear, I think he has a workwife that he can’t wait to get back to or something. And please God, let him take the Guitar Hero back to Ed.

I hope you all have a great week.

Nothing New

I went to the gym again today...it's only my second time ever. We got kicked out (you know, because they were closing). It's kind of a good feeling to get kicked out of a gym. On the other hand, they were closing because they close early on Saturdays. You know, because most people have a life, unlike me.

G and the rest of the fam are in West Virginia, at Ralph's house, so it's strangely quiet here. I'm sipping my last glass of sangria, debating about going to get some more. Why can't they have delivery liquors? I guess that would be a bad idea.

So, my baby girl is about to turn eight. I know it sounds cliche, but I swear to you that I don't know where the time has gone. I cannot get my brain around the fact that she has been here for eight years...and that I'm eight years older than I was when I had her. When I consider how much I have changed since then, how my life has changed...it's just astounding. We are having a party for her next weekend, so I will be busy, busy this week. I remember being her age-birthday parties were so important. She really wants a hamster, but her father has forbid it (since, well, her room looks like a place that the county would likely condemn). Her frog recently died, too, so that makes me really want to get her the hamster...but you know, that would just be one more thing for me to take care of. Not to mention that it would cause strife between me and G. And can you imagine the two boys letting it out, giving it a haircut, or feeding it M&Ms? Yeah...

Oh yeah, and they're cutting our peaktime hours at work. I'll lose 4 hours per pay period. You know, that doesn't really hurt my feelings, because I'm pretty tired of working there. It used to be a great place to work, but my branch is subject to ridiculous politics these days. On the other hand, I guess I will miss the money. Especially since Comcast is not going to take over Millennium, and therefore I will get no free cable. SIGH. The price of everything is going up, but my salary is going down. I know, I know...I sound really old. It's because I am.

Happy fall...who's in on a Halloween fire?

Archives-Back to School 8/28/2007

August 28, 2007

So, Monday morning, the mothers of our area were at once wistful and breathing a collective sigh of relief. Yes, back-to-school time has arrived. My oldest, my only daughter, has returned to the same elementary school I attended. I can hardly convince myself that she's really in third grade. I keep telling myself that she'll really remember stuff from here on out (well, I've been telling myself that for some time now). The first day went pretty smoothly. She was apprehensive, but quickly grew comfortable with the familiarities. This morning, however, was another story.
See, it's been a hectic few days. We were at the beach last week, and arrived home Saturday evening. After unpacking the truck, putting everything away, and doing laundry, I was already worn out. Sunday, we had a picnic and went on a nice, couple-mile hike at Patapsco State Park. That was truly nice, except that we failed to remain on the correct trail and walked WAY out of our way. So, since we had the two little boys with us, and Cam was in flip-flops, I was pretty unnerved that we would not readily find our way back. Eventually we did, a little tired, but fine. I have NO idea how my youngest son walked that far; he's only two, after all. He's sturdy.
Anyway, so then Monday we returned to our School Schedule, which means getting up at around 6:30 rather than 10:00. That sucks. And Cam is not the easiest person in the morning. Neither am I, so we honestly make a terrible pair. I'm usually very short-tempered and want to be left alone; she usually spends considerable time verbalizing her displeasure at having awakened so early and having to get ready, and very little time actually getting ready. That usually results in frenzied anger for me, trying to get her dressed, fed, brushed, and shoved out the door. It's just not pleasant, but the first day went well.
And then there was today. Last night, I went to see Aaron Lewis play his Have Guitar, Will Travel show at Ram's Head Live. Angie, Mom (yes, my mom likes Staind-a lot), and Angie's friend/co-worker Lou went, too. I'm so glad Angie bought me the ticket, it was really, really good. However, as usual, I stood right next to the obligatory Venue Jackass. A big man, he could already see better than most. But since we were standing on the rail upstairs, he found it necessary not only to lean out over the rail, but to put his hand on his hip so that his elbow jutted out into the sight path of many, my lucky self included. SIGH. We protested his inconsideration loud enough for him to hear. My sister tapped his arm. My mother flicked her beer on him, which prompted our uproarious laughter for about ten minutes. He just would not budge for the ENTIRE show. So, to my sister's concern, I spent the better half of the show with my head on my arm, laying on the rail. She was sure I was about to pass out drunk, but really I was peering through the crook of his arm. The show was so good. Angie decided it would be in her best interest not to drive, so we ended up summoning her roomate to cart us home. I can't believe Angie left her car in the city, but kudos to her for knowing she was polluted enough that she should not drive.
Needless to say, it was a late night. And then Collin had a nosebleed in the middle of the night, so I had to get up for that, with my head still a little woozy. When the alarm went off, my eyes were sure it was two hours earlier. And then my beloved child gave me all sorts of hell, barely making it to the bus stop in time. G couldn't understand why I was "speaking harshly". See, it seems to me that it's only fair that G does a share of this morning duty. He did stay up later than me last night (God knows why), but I'm also a bit peeved that I was "punished" for going to the show. I was left a lovely sink full of dishes, dirty kids' clothes all over the bathroom and living room, etc. You ladies ever get the same treatment when you go out? Hmph. Despite my resentful feelings today, I offered to "let" him go to volleyball tonight. He didn't get to play while we were at the beach, and didn't get to play last night, since I went to the show. He also won't be able to take the kids to the park on Wednesday evenings, since they're on School Schedule. See, unlike him, I get that he needs to have recreational time. He's not an afterthought, I do actually consider his needs. He should probably take the example and run with it.
Anyway...our week at the beach was good, but too short, and it rained to much. Back to the same old grind. Come on, June 12.

Archives-July Outings & Traditions 8/1/2007

August 1, 2007

So, I'm a little bitter that I didn't get to see Pete Yorn & Guster last night at Wolftrap. *sigh* However, we did attend the 100th year of the Glen Burnie Carnival. Excuse me, the Big Glen Burnie Carnival...because, well, you know, that's tradition around here. It's all still there: the same games, "corn bingo", the rickety old Zipper, the Tilt-A-Hurl. And of course, the trip wouldn't be complete without a souvenir GB Carnival plastic cup to put in my kitchen cabinet. We ate the $7.50 pizza (you know, for a whole pizza) and the $1 french fries. I even had the 2oz crabcake, which is barely large enough to cover a Saltine...just because I had to see what that was like. It wasn't bad, for carnival food. Nothing like my crabcakes, of course, but decent $2.50 food. Anyway, the kids enjoyed the crap out of it, and it was actually a nice evening-not too hot, breezy, and best of all, not too crowded. It's always like homecoming, going there...I always see people I went to school with or whatever. The kids want to go back on Thursday, because we didn't get to do half the things we wanted to do. It's considerably more expensive, now that I have three children...even though each ride still costs $1 and the games are cheap. G and I decided that corn bingo is probably the most lucrative business there. You can play three cards at a time for $1, and it takes, what, 5 minutes for someone to call bingo? The corn markers cost nothing, and they've been using the same cards for probably 50 years. Not to mention that you don't have to stand in line to do it. We also agreed with the bingo guy that there should be beer (and wine, of course) sold at the bingo stand. On the other hand, the GB carnival attracts enough of Glen Burnie's finest as it is, without the addition of alcohol.
We also recently went to Artscape, which was fun, but we got there late. Man, did it bring back memories!!! The smells, well, you know, after the nasty Bourbon Street-esque smells, were devine. All those foods, and I couldn't wait to eat. About a block away, I smelled the jerk chicken, which I am a sucker for. I immediately decided that while it would be hard to choose if I really looked around, jerk chicken was what I wanted. It was to be served with red beans & rice (the Jamaican style, not the New Orleans style) and sauteed cabbage/veggies. My mouth was literally watering, and I was starving. I stood in that line for no less than 45 minutes, I'm not kidding. It may have been an hour. I kept looking to see if they were actually slaughtering chickens and cleaning them out of the back of their truck. Little did I know, their jerk chicken is marinated, grilled, taken off the grill to be seasoned and cut up, returned to the grill, then removed and re-seasoned and re-grilled again. G had time to find his food, get drinks, and feed the boys while Cameron and I stood there, sweating to death and shifting our weight from one foot to the other. We listened to the real Jamaican ladies in front of us, colorfully insulting the catering staff in their sing-songy accents. Finally we got our food, and it was darn good, but not worth the wait and the frickin' $12 I spent on it.
Then there were the mojitos, which I was really excited to find. I asked G to get one for me, and he brought it back, commenting on drinking a salad. Yes, there was real mint in it. Too bad there was no real rum in it. Needless to say, I promptly switch to Zima. At least, per the bottle, there's 5% alcohol by volume in that, right?
No really good bands played this year (well, none on the day I was there). I saw a band, I think it was called Fools and Horses, which also played with Cowboy Mouth a few weeks ago. They were ok. I even recognized one of their songs.
I did see some good art, but it's kinda hard to get close to the stalls, what with that big honkin' double stroller I have and all. It's also weird to see my generation, including artsy people, with children in tow. Next year I hope to see some more, maybe even buy something good. G and I saw some lamps that we liked, which he assured me he could easily make. We'll see if he does. Heck, maybe it will be us in one of those stalls next year. Or maybe I'll apply for a temporary liquor license and sell real mojitos. Or jerk chicken without the 40 minute wait. Or maybe I'll just go early and stay late, and have more fun.
I can't believe it's August already. Enjoy your last month of summer!