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.

Wrench

So, we are in the middle of a huge war. I received a call from the principal today that Collin was accepted for kindergarten this year. I told G, and he immediately started on his tirade about his horrible childhood. He claims he was an outcast and had no friends, and was beaten up daily. Perhaps he had a hard time for a while, but I just don't believe that was the case for his entire childhood. Additionally, who knows how much of that was personality based picking versus stature picking. Nevertheless, I stand by my opinion that he is projecting his past experiences on his child. I stand by all the things I've already said, as well as those of the psychologists and the doctor...not to mention my friends and family. His reasoning is invalid, to me, because it's just not reasonable. He has one con, and no pros. He has no other sides to the situation-just his one feeling...that my son is short for his age, so we should hold him back a year. I have already asked him if he will insist on holding the younger boy back-he will not. He claims it's simply because his birthday is three months earlier in the year. I said, well, that negates your whole theory then, because three months won't make a bit of difference in either of their heights. Both of them are always going to be short, until the day they die.

G is also is like a used car salesman. He has a retort and an excuse for everything. It makes me want to put a fork in my eye. He talks and twist things well out of proportion. Additionally, he's not as straightforward as I once believed him to be. To put it lightly, I take everything he says with a grain of salt. And he always has his own agenda.

So, he gave his ultimatum. I keep Collin home a year, or he will go to the school and tell them that he doesn't want him to attend. He said we could put him into a Montessori school (someone obviously put the bug in his ear about that), but that's just another excuse, because there is no way we can afford it...not to mention that pre-k is not the stimulation that he needs. The thing I hate the most about this is that he's telling my son that he's got something wrong with him. Collin has no problem with himself--if he were so concerned, why would he jeapardize that?!

I'm going to the school tomorrow to turn in the rest of my paperwork and be briefed on the test results. It makes me crazy that he's not on the same page as me. He will not listen to reason, and he doesn't respect what I have to say. He doesn't accept that raising these kids has been my job for the past 9 years, and I've been mostly responsible for everything in their lives. Why should he throw a wrench into what I feel is best now? I have lost even more respect for him. I honestly don't know where we're going to go from here.

A Day in the Life Kinda Thing

I just read my horoscope for today, and it said that in everything I do today, my enthusiasm will bubble up and influence everyone around me. HAH! First of all, let me say that I don't live my life by my horoscope, but I do look at it for entertainment purposes. I like to see if, after the fact, it's had any correlation to reality, mostly. Anyway, I've been sitting on the couch. All day. I watched Noah push around his overflowing toy shopping cart full of other toys, looking for all the world like a bag lady. I commenced daytime potty training-which means we abandon diapers during the day, and park the potty in the middle of the living room. I hate a kids' potty. It's the most revolting thing ever. That may be the hormonally nauseated me speaking. I watched the older two tie eachother, and various other neighbor kids, up to the tree with jumpropes. Other than screaming at the dog for barking nonstop, I'd say I was pretty much a bystander in life today, rather than bubbling over with enthusiasm.

I did take my son to the doctor this morning, and he was strangely excited about his check-up. He obviously doesn't remember all the shots he got last time. He didn't need any this time, either, so he was just as happy when he left. He's right there with my other two, in only the 10th percentile for height. Ah, well, there is nothing to be done about genetics. I also talked with the ped about my older son going to kindergarten "early" this year. He misses the cut-off by only eight days, so I requested that he be tested for "early" admission. It turns out that he scored really high on the cognitive part of the tests, although admittedly 5 points away from the county's guideline score. He scored in the 97th percentile for the academic portion. The school psychologist, gifted & talented coordinator, principal, and area director all recommended him for early admission. Now we await the final answer from the Board [of Education]. What's the problem, you ask? G. G is the problem. He thinks we should hold him back, because he is shorter than average. Even though my husband is a know-it-all devil's advocate, this even stunned me. My immediate thought was, what if he was taller than average? Would you insist he be placed in the second grade?! It just makes no sense. For someone who has so often said otherwise, it's amazing to me that G is focusing solely on the child's genetics, about which we can do nothing. The psychologist's report clearly says that he will need advanced math and reading in his curriculum in order to be stimulated. Hello?! What does that tell you? Now, G's concern is not unfounded. He remembers being teased for being short. Know what? I remember being teased because I wore a dress. Because my last name was Badger. Because I liked to read. Because I wore a brace on my back. Because I rode the bus. My point, obviously is that children of all ages will tease other children for ANY reason, difference, or ability that they observe. Besides, what are we teaching our son if we tell him that we didn't give him ability-appropriate training because of the way he looks?! Additionally, I'm sick to death of people generalizing and saying that boys are behind girls...that is not always the case, nor is it always that cut and dried. They may be somewhat emotionally behind girls, but generally, their academic abilities are equal if not greater. Why do we continue to sell our sons short? I spoke to the pediatrician today, knowing that he is a developmentally concerned, but also a somewhat neutral party. He feels the same way that I do. He said that he totally understands why G feels the way he does, but we have to instill confidence in our son that we can do nothing about genetics, but we can make the most of our abilities...and we deal with our inabilities. He says that especially considering he missed the cutoff by a mere eight days, and clearly qualifies, he needs the stimulation and we should enroll him. We'll see what G has to say about it.

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.

Peaceful Surroundings

I went to the park today, because I had to.  I could not sit in this house, and didn't have the will to try to contain my children.  It's funny how as soon as I hear the bay's little baby-waves, my blood pressure drops and I feel my muscles relax.  Collin especially was missing Nanay, G's grandmother who is in the Philippines for three weeks.  She has been going to the park with us, and we have lunch together.  Despite having recently eaten breakfast, the laying down of the mat was signal enough to the boys to want to eat lunch.  They didn't eat much, of course, before they were off and running...fighting over who could put sand in whose bucket, who had which shovel.  Mostly, Noah causes the problem, because, well, he's still two, and does what he wants.  Once in a while, though, Collin will get that look in his eye, and you just know he's about to do something naughty.  I went on my usual comb of the beach in search of my newfound interest: sea glass.  There wasn't much to be had today, as it was still very high tide.  Usually we arrive later, so it has already been deposited on the sand.  It's amazing how much can be found there!  Sometimes I find pieces that are still sharp and shiny, and haven't been frosted by being tossed about in the waves...and I chuck them back into the water so that it can do its magic.  I don't know why the little pieces of once-hazardous waste interest me, but they're pretty, and they're fairly rare, in these times of plastic. 

All too soon, it was time for us to go.  I had a doctor's appointment, so we had to leave earlier than we normally might.  That was ok...the boys were tired by then, although at least one of them refused a nap.  If we'd had a little longer ride home, they'd both have been asleep in the car.

It's nice to have a peaceful day.

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?

My Own Private Artscape

I have no business being awake right now.  I’m tired and a little sore, from three days in a row at the gym (yay, me!).  I have to get up early, of course, and I have a million things to do tomorrow.

There have been a lot of artistic happenings in my house lately.  Unfortunately, I’m none too pleased about them.  See, my sons have taken to caveman expressions of their creativity.  Yep, they’re writing on the walls.  My middle son, Collin, was sad about being punished or something, and he decided to let everyone know by writing with both a Sharpie and a kids’ tattoo marker [read: indelible] on his door.  See the little smiley faces?  Someday, that will be cute.  Someday, after I’ve finished painting over it.  Maybe I should just leave it there for another five years or so, to assure no further damage is done.  When I was putting Collin into bed tonight, he told me Noah had written on Collin’s walls with a brown marker (and I’m thinking, PLEASE let it be a Crayola!).  Our house is a cape cod, with the angled ceilings upstairs.  I painted Collin’s ceiling to look like the sky.  So, when a little boy stands on Collin’s Little Tykes race car bed, he can reach the slope-y ceiling, and he can paint the sky with turd brown, the whole length of the bed.  He can do the bed while he’s at it, too, and some wall as well.  Oh, and by the way?  There is no way in hell that a turd brown dry erase marker will ever come off a flat-painted ceiling.  Not with Lysol wipes.  Not with a Magic Eraser.  Nope...more painting in my future.  I also discovered that Noah found some glitter glue, and decorated Collin’s pillow, the carpet and the wall.  He also found some sand art that someone had created, and dumped that on the carpet.  They emptied the trash can onto the floor, tore everything out of Collin’s closet in search of God-knows-what, and drug half the toys out of his toybox.  Remember what I said, how when you realize it’s quiet, it’s already too late?  Another prime example.  Not to mention that this all took place in the space of THREE MINUTES.  Noah has written on downstairs walls with crayon three times this week.  He also wrote on the floor, and all over his high chair tray, and twice all over the upstairs toilet.  Oh, I cannot wait until they are teenagers.  For now, I think I’m going to keep all art supplies under lock and key.  And man, I can’t wait for this weather to turn, so I can send their little asses outside rather than busy them with creative stuff inside.  There’s a time and a place for art.  The time is when they’re strapped into a high chair and cannot reach a wall (because a Magic Eraser does work well on a high chair), and the place is not on my walls.  Someday, this will all be very humorous to me.  But for now, I’m thinking I should paint my house with blackboard paint and pass out some chalk.

 

Cars & Boys

I hate buying a used car.  You never know what you’re going to get, and obviously, any car of any age can have issues.  This morning, I pressed the remote start button, and there was merely a click.  SIGH.  Know what that means.  There was enough battery for me to open the side door and let Cameron in so that I could try to start it, which it refused to do.  There was not enough juice left to close the door.  Beautiful.  So, I checked the warranty information, and confirmed what I already knew to be true: batteries are not covered.  OF COURSE.  Happy Monday.  Thank God, I still have the Tahoe, so we were able to jump in her and go.  Now, if only she will play nice for the remainder of the day.

On a funny note, last night, G and I were sitting here in the living room, ignoring eachother on opposing laptops like always, when there was a funny, long, foamy sound from the bathroom.  Collin was supposed to be rinsing after brushing his teeth.  I yelled, "COLLIN!  What was that--shaving cream?!"  There was a brief pause, where he was almost audibly thinking, Crap!  Should I tell her?  He said, "Uh, I don’t know, I can’t read!"  He of course was full of it, he knew exactly what it was.  He had filled the sink with his Mr. Men Crazy Soap (bath foam).  At least it was nothing I had to clean off the walls...where better to make a mess than where we can just turn on the water and rinse it away?

I’m hoping all these nasty, cold, wet days are going to lead to some pretty fabulous May flowers, as the old saying goes.  I’m really sick of this weather, and I check Southwest & Airtran almost daily for an airfare that I can afford (times five, of course) to someplace warm.  I think everyone else is feeling much the same.  It’s a shame we couldn’t get a group rate on a flight/vacation package, eh?  We have not had a harsh winter, I don’t think (at least, the beginning of it wasn’t), but now it just seems to be dragging along.  March was supposed to have gone out like a lamb, and with the exception of one day, it didn’t.  At least the end of this week looks a little more promising.

Hope your week’s starting off better than mine!

Car Shopping

I test drove another Sienna today. This time, they offered to give me $2k for my truck, and the salesperson said they would probably go to $2500. They did not take anything off the price of the vehicle, though, leaving me about $2500 from where I’d like to be. The salesperson was casual, down-to-earth and reasonable. He treated me as though I were going to buy the vehicle--didn’t ask if I needed to contact my husband. I like that. I didn’t really get to talk to the manager, which is just as well. They’re usually the slimiest of them.

I might go look at another, tomorrow. I don’t even feel like having my truck appraised again...it’s not running well and the engine light is on. It’s embarrassing! Combine that with the dirty carpet, Cheerios and toys, and, well, can you blame them? I know they’re only going to wholesale it, but still...it’s worth more to me. The book value is about $2600 more than they’re offering, and that’s for only fair condition. High retail is about $5k more. So should I try to trade it, or sell it outright? Is it worth it to try to sell it? Or should I suck it up and pay more?

Anyway, the other Sienna I am interested in is $1k more, and it’s in Owings Mills. Another hike. I am one of those people who has to feel "this is it". I have to know that it’s right. I believe we didn’t get the first two we looked at because they weren’t right. Am I saying that we’ve been predestined to purchase a particular vehicle with a particular VIN number? No...just that I should have clarity and peace with the one I’m going to buy.

Last night, my 2yr old Noah tried on my mascara. He also tried it on the couch (thank God I don’t use waterproof, eh?). Some of you may remember a short while ago, when Collin did the same. It was pretty funny. He also emptied a can of Dermaplast all over the living room and himself, coating everything in a greasy fog. For the past week or two, he’s had an affinity for markers and pens. He wrote on both the dining room table and the coffee table with a pen, and the entire way up the stairwell with a green marker. More proof that when you realize it’s very quiet, it’s already too late. My friend complains that with the current state of things, he might have to be an Ikea shopper. Well, I’d rather my kids write on my Ikea stuff than my Ethan Allen. Today, Collin dumped an entire 20oz (cold) water on me. That, too, was a pleasant experience. It truly was an accident, though, so I couldn’t be too mad...and let’s face it--it could have been cherry KoolAid.

I think I will try to make some fish for dinner. I’m still on the fence about it. I am really NOT a fish person. I like shellfish, yes, but I pretty much always turn my nose up at even the finest selections of fish. I have, however, had a couple of types of salmon that I liked...I may try to replicate one of those recipes. I’m just tired of the same old thing...I like quite a bit of variety in my diet. That’s pretty hard to do, when you have not one, but four different people, with different degrees of pickiness, living in the same household. There is literally nothing that will make everyone happy. Sometimes I feel like making my own dinner, and telling the rest of them that they are on their own. I guess to be fair, I should wait until they’re at least old enough to use the stove!

The Halloween that Daddy Saved

You can imagine the chaos that is my house, given that I have three children.  That said, when we were ready to put on Halloween costumes, which had been worn a couple of weeks ago for a cousin's party, we discovered that Collin's Peter Pan hat had gone missing.  I initially blamed Cameron, because her room is the most disastrous in the house, and she had taken the bag of costumes into her room and dumped them on the floor.  At any rate, we searched the house, and it is nowhere to be found.  So, in a moment of chivalry and fatherly love, G went to the fabric store to purchase felt, and we made Collin a new hat.  After all, he'd have just been a boy in a green and brown outfit, without that hat. 



The kids had fun trick-or-treating, of course.  Booah was the most entertaining...he frequently shouted, in his two-year-old accent, "OPEN THE DOOR!  I GET CANDY!"  Or, when he was done talking to one sweet elderly neighbor, he promptly (and loudly) told her to shut the door.  Ang and I could hardly stand it.  Pictures will be posted soon.  Mind you, they couldn't wait to go out, so I only got, like, one picture each.

So, I had my root canal re-done yesterday.  Initially, they told me I would need new impressions done for my crown, as the lab didn't like what they got.  When I got in the chair (without valium, mind you), they proceeded to open the tooth back up and clean out the canals some more.  Mercy.  He then told me, more than once, that he was very concerned I would lose the tooth entirely, as it is badly cracked.  My feeling (and I think my dentist's, too) is that the dentist who did my filling a couple of months ago, cracked the tooth when she drilled it.  Why, oh why, did I go to see another dentist?!  Now, it may or may not be her "fault".  It could just be something that happened because the cavity was so deep.  It could have been her inexperience...fresh out of dental school.  I could have been just one of those things.  At any rate, I'm too damn young to have this happen, and I'm praying the reconstruction he did yesterday will be sufficient and sturdy enough to perform well.

One more thing I forgot to mention...my middle boy Collin was just in a taping for some kids' songs!  Yep, he's gonna be a local star (ok, not really, but he will be on On-Demand kids' programming, which is pretty cool).  He was shy, but not his usual head-in-the-sand self.  He actually did rather well, considering how standoffish he usually is.  He is absolutely in love with Christine, the musician he was "working" for.  She's his new girlfriend, and he gets a funny look on his face when he talks about her.  Unfortunately, he didn't show them his breakdance skills, which we were really hoping for.  I hope he gets the chance to do another video in the future, and he'll get to do it then...but then he'll be older and it won't be quite as cute.  Oh well, it was something fun to do, and he enjoyed it...that's all that matters. 

Hope you all had a great Halloween!

Come On In, the Water's Fine

September 10, 2007

This weekend flew by, and my middle son turned four. Seems so silly to say, but it seems like he was just born. I honestly can't get my brain around how fast my life is flying by. And it's already football season (does anyone else hate the female announcers?!). The angle of the sun has changed, the crickets have returned, and the temperature is slowly getting cooler (ok, not today). I can't believe it's almost fall. But you know what that means...it's almost fire season. I even shopped for a new fire bowl today.
Anyway, the party was fun, but hectic. Seems like I really never get time to sit and have a few drinks, enjoy myself and my company. There is always something else to think about. The highlight of the day, of course, was when we gave G a dip in the pool...against his will, and fully clothed. To me, it was a personal vendetta, after his failure to return home from a bachelor party in a timely fashion (and he drove his motorcycle after drinking, the ass). We were laughing so hard, we could hardly function. I will give him this: he is a strong, squirmy somebody. He definitely did not go down without a fight, and it took several of us. I'll have to check my camera, and the cameras of those around me...you might see the video up on Youtube soon. It reminded me of the time on our youth group ski trip (a la 1989) when a bunch of guys tried to wrestle G into a hotel bath tub full of ice water. That was hysterical, too.
Today I spent quite a while at Patapsco, walking with the boys. It was completely silent there...even the river was quiet, since it is so low. I've never seen the dam so low, either. It was peaceful--exactly what I needed after a busy weekend. I saw two deer, a heron, and a groundhog. I was also pleased to not see any dead fish in the river. It was a good day.
I hope you all have a good week.

Breakfast With Little People

September 5, 2007

This morning, I took the boys to Chick-fil-a for breakfast, because, you know, they have the fabulous chicken biscuit. Only I was retarded. I asked for a number 4. Then I realized that was on a bagel, and would probably be too much food for me. I asked to change it to a number 5. I thought I was getting a chicken biscuit with egg and cheese. Only I ordered the wrong sandwich and there was no chicken, so I was very disappointed. We sat down next to a father with his toddler boy and baby girl, who immediately refused to eat and spent the next half hour turned around in their seats, waving at my boys and saying hi. I felt kinda guilty at having compromised their nice meal. He was a big man, with a buzzed head and a great fat belly. The back of his neck, as my sister always says, looked like a pack of hot dogs. I couldn't stop staring at it, thanking the sweet Lord that while I might be fat, at least I don't have back-of-the-neck fat.
Halfway through our meal, as usual, Collin loudly said, "OK, I have to go POO POO real BAD!" I told him he would have to wait until Booah was done with his breakfast--I was worried that if we left all our food on the table, it would be cleaned up for us. And of course, I couldn't very well leave Noah there to eat by himself. Collin proceeded to squirm and complain and demand that Noah hurry up. In an even louder voice, and much to the amusement of Hot Dog Neck and the men seated next to us, he said, "MAMA, MAYBE THE POO POO WILL GO BACK UP IN MY HOLE!" I nearly spit my coffee all over the table, and then if it wasn't so funny, I probably would have hid under it with embarrassment.
He made it to the bathroom in time. Then we went to the play area, and Booah promptly pooped in his diaper. We cut the playtime short and went to the truck to change him...no diaper bag. We went across the street to the Target and bought diapers and wipes, cause it's not like they won't get used. Then we proceeded to look for the ever-elusive Lightning McQueen bike for Collin's birthday. I gave up and ordered it online, and had to spend an ungoldy amount of money to have it shipped 2nd day air. And then there was the Lightning McQueen helmet & knee pad set, and it actually cost more to ship it 2nd day than the set itself. Needless to say, I'm not waiting as long to buy Cameron's birthday gift.
After we came home, Booah pooped three more times. And I forgot to mention that he pooped once when he first got up. And he pooped once this evening. Sooner or later, you start to take it personally. It's like he's just doing it to get a rise out of us. Add Collin, and poop takes up a significant portion of the day. At least Cam poops by herself now. But you know, I wouldn't have it any other way. I am very grateful for my children, especially since I've just learned of this family in Pasadena whose daughter Kamryn just died of leukemia. She was only 8, like my daughter. She had red hair, like my daughter. She danced, like my daughter. It just makes me extra-grateful for these little people I have running around, pooping and screaming, making messes and fighting. Because I can still kiss them goodnight. I can still hold them when they get a skinned knee. I don't have to say goodbye, and learn how to live without them. Yep, I'm pretty thankful for poop.

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-And Four Becomes Three 8/9/2007

August 9, 2007

So, I wrote this blog the other night, and in all my finesse, deleted it. *sigh* I wanted to tell you about the dinner I made...chipotle cinnamon rubbed (thanks for the suggestion, Nathan) pork chops, twice baked cheddar & bacon potatoes, zucchini pancakes (yay, the kids liked them!), corn on the cob & cinnamon apples. Yes, I made it all myself "from scratch". [From starch, maybe...yes, it was a bit of a starchy meal, but it was so good.] I'm trying to do more of that, lately, because I'm tired of eating out of a box. I made a similar meal for a lady from church who has two boys 3 and under, and is pregnant with twins...and is on complete bedrest. Ah, I remember those days...and I had no other children at that time, so I don't know how she's dealing with her two boys. She's worried for the twins, that they'll have to go to the NICU. I remember those days, too. She's far enough along that even if they do, it'll be a short stay. Man, my baby fever is just crazy! Why do I still want one more? It makes no good sense at all. Perhaps I should go visit her in another two months, when she has all the babies and is so tired she doesn't know what to do with herself. And her poor belly...the physical carrying of the two little bodies, I can tell, would be torturous. Even one is, towards the end. I can't imagine the stretch marks she'll earn. On the other hand, if a baby brings much joy to a family, twice that with two. I just wish I could be at peace with "only" having three, plus one with wings.
I also made pico de gallo, which is probably inedible, for all the jalapenos I put in it. I ate the crap out of that stuff while I was in Mexico...with the fresh guacamole and fresh tortilla chips. My wisdom tooth has recently been infected AGAIN, so I ought not eat any tortilla chips. So, the pico sits in my fridge, waiting for someone brave enough to eat it. G is not...he will not eat vegetables in salsa form unless they have been liquified. Tonight I am also making a white cake with peanut butter filling and chocolate frosting. I should probably farm that out to my sister and mother, so I won't be "forced" to eat it all.
I think one of our goldfish is dying. I expect to find him floating in the near future, as he's not swimming quite right these days. We also have an aggressor, which G insists we should flush. He is pretty mean. Who knew a goldfish would be so territorial, or whatever his problem is?
I took Cam shopping for her school stuff this evening. I can't believe it's so close. Next week, we are on vacation, thank God. Then it's back to school, already! I'm SO not ready to resume waking up at 6:30am. Then we'll have Collin's party, and then I have to have my wisdom teeth removed. I'm so anxious about it I could turn inside out. I'd rather have five more labors & deliveries. Honestly, I'd rather have any other kind of surgery. I think the greatest fear is being awake for the whole thing. I really don't care to be traumatized in that fashion.
Update...the poor fishy is dead. Now there are three. Even though he was a carnival fish, I'm sad to see him go. Nobody likes the final flush. The cake was good, but very rich. I'm thinking it will be better once it has been refrigerated...I'm weird, I like cold cake (as long as the chilling doesn't dry it out). I guess it's good that it's rich...that will prompt me to eat smaller portions of it. I'm still going to give some to whoever stops by my house in the next couple of days. :)

Archives-Happy Independence Day 7/5/2007

July 5, 2007

Ok, so I'm a day late. Yesterday G wasn't into the family thing--nothing stands in the way of volleyball, you know--so I went to my mom's with Ang. His volleyball people had a cookout at Hillsmere beach, which would be nice if I wouldn't be "alone" there. He seemed kind of offended that I didn't want to go...but he would have ignored the lot of us, except for the five minutes every couple hours that it would take him to inhale a hot dog. So, what difference would it make if I was there or not? It would have been me, hanging with the kids all day with no help and not much fun of my own. So...Mom's sounded like more fun. Her pool was frigid, so we sat around drinking mojitos while the kids jumped in and out of the baby pool a thousand times. Mom made burgers, and Ang made teriyaki and jerk (not together) chicken. I love me some jerk chicken. The tomatoes and corn and chipotle pasta salad were so good, too. And then the rain came, so we put on Cars and the kids assumed the position in front of the tv. Collin passed out and missed dinner entirely. G came along eventually, and we hemmed and hawed about going to see fireworks. It wasn't exactly an ideal night for viewing them, what with the storms and muggy-buggy dampness. At the last minute, we decided to go to our favorite viewing spot, which is the former Annapolis Overlook (now the WWII Memorial). Well, apparently the rain wasn't keeping anyone away, because we had to park way down the road and walk down the hill to see the fireworks, which had already started. We probably walked for 10 minutes (ok, maybe five to seven, but it sure felt like it). I was wearing uncomfortable sandals, I had to pee, and I was carrying the sleeping 27lb Booah, and G kept asking me why I couldn't walk any faster. SIGH. I'm old and fat, and aerobically challenged, that's why. Anyway, we got there and saw about 3 minutes of fireworks before the grande finale, and that was it...then had to trek back up the hill. I promised the kids a better fireworks experience next year, although they didn't seem too disappointed.
This weekend, my mom will have her annual 4th of July party, so thanks to my redneck relatives, there will be another fireworks display. They go all out. There will also be glow sticks, sparklers, and poppers. I miss childhood, I so used to look forward to those things every year. Sunday we are doing the zoo, with G's place of employment. That should be fun. I wish they'd actually close the zoo to the public, so as to limit other visitors. It would be nice to avoid the crowds, since it's supposed to be ungodly hot. I remember one trip to New Orleans, we wanted to visit the Audubon zoo with our friends...we get there, it was 100 degrees with 100% humidity (as it usually is in New Orleans), and the frickin' zoo was closed. It was Bank of America day or something-some big company was having their employee even there. We kept saying, How can you close the zoo?! Well, I wish they would.
I took the kids bowling on Tuesday. That was fun, except when it was my turn, I would get up to the foul line, and the pin resetter thing would come down and sweep the pins...I'd turn around, and there was the baby, pushing the button over and over again...looking at me with that little impish smirk on his face. That, and it took ten whole minutes for the baby's ball to reach the pins, if it ever did. A couple of times we just gave up and I rolled another ball down to push the first one.
Time to go straighten the living room, after the little tornados that are my children! I hope you all had a nice 4th.