2007 Accomplishment Summary & 2008 Goals

Name: Mommy, Manic

Title: Mother, Wife, Whole Unique Person

Accomplishment Summary (summarize accomplishments vs. goals):

Finalize Adjustment to Stay-at-Home-Motherhood

- Read I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids, The Happiest Toddler on the Block, Mommy Wars, and numerous other self-help/parenting books

- Started reading mommy blogs

- Sought help for addiction to mommy blogs

- Started own blog

- Lowered expectations for accomplishments based on external input/research (mommy blogs)

- Instituted cocktails 'mommy popcicles' with neighboring SAHM

Lose Weight/Exercise

- Lost approximately 12 lbs and one clothing size

- Have managed to keep about 8 lbs off- Joined gym end of Q-1

- Attended with regularity for 2nd and 3rd quarters

- Ate everything in site and have not gone to gym in month of December

Read Better Books/Read paper daily

- Purchased Love in the Time of Cholera
- Read first chapter

- Purchased far too much trash/magazines

- Have daily subscription to Boston Globe

- During recent outpatient surgery for suspicious mole, read Globe cover-to-cover.

Strengths/Growth (describe strengths and how they have changed in the past year):

Working-world strengths in the area of relationship-building and project management have helped negligibly in accomplishing the goal of smooth transition to full-time management of a home and family. Extemporaneousness, multi-tasking, and lowering adjusting expectations have been best-utilized tools.

2008 Goals

Goal: Enjoy my children more

Action Plan:

- (1)Engage in day-to-day and household tasks with them present/assisting (2)Dedicate more time to Chutes and Ladders/Candy Land/Webkinz

Success Criteria: More accomplishment Less aggravation

Goal: A place for everything and everything in its place

Action Plan:
- Umm...

Success Criteria: Less clutter, chaos, and confusion

Goal: Personal Growth – Attend wine course

Action Plan:
- Check Boston/Cambridge Centers for Adult Education for a course.

Success Criteria: Attend course, Learn more about wine, Enjoy adult time

Goal: Quality time alone with spouse

Action Plan:
- Schedule and adhere to monthly date nights

Success Criteria: Remembering we like each other - priceless

Associate’s Signature:___________________________________

Manager’s Signature:____________________________________

The Face of Belief

As Andy's twenty-something cousin entered the livingroom last night dressed as Santa, I saw the faces of belief. Six little kids; three five-year-olds, one-three-year old, and two, two-year olds all jumbled together on a couch near the fireplace. Two of them, mine. I saw belief too on the faces of the many adults in the room. Including Mrs. Claus, busily snapping pictures along with the rest of us and grinning at her husband of one year. And I believed as well.

Oh, Santa handed out presents but astonishingly, not a child ripped into his package. They simply stared, a little hesitant, a lot shy, each with the forgotten toy dangling from his hand. After Santa departed, the adults each eagerly grabbed a child and ran with them onto the back deck pointing at various stars. A few of us were sure we could see a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer traveling far off in the sky.

Throughout twelve years (yes - 12!) of Catholic school, I was taught that faith is not seeing and yet believing. Here were a bunch of young kids who still do believe. When Tim walked into the room in his Santa suit, there was no doubt to be found. Of course there's a magical old man who sees us when we're sleeping, and loves us, and gives us precious gifts, and just asks us to be good. Santa is the embodiment of the goodness that even this ala carte Catholic can't dismiss.

Whether and however we believe -- in Jesus, in Heaven, in God, in good in the universe, it's all out there for us.

Merry Christmas my friends.

I'm Dreaming...

Oh, the weather outside is frightful.

But the smiles are so delightful.

Mark This Date

December 19, 2007 2:30 pm EST - Manic Mommy resents Santa for the first time ever.

HRH and I are leaving the craft store with $26.00 worth of crap crafts. Specifically, we bought the molds, chocolate, sticks, and wrappers to make cute little Christmas lollypops. We also bought coloring/sticker books. Apparently, I missed the memo that this year, we'll be giving small presents to each of our classmates at preschool.

HRH is only in a class of nine kids so it's not a huge deal but we also do Halloween treats, cupcakes for birthdays, and one intrepid mommy actually had Thanksgiving gifts. I would have to say it's out of control. God knows I feed into it as much as the next mom. But I digress.

As we're leaving the store, HRH states that I've hurt his feelings because I always say no when he wants to buy something. This time, "something" was the entire display box of cheap Hot Wheels candy. (In his defense, I don't think he realized they weren't a set). I went into a my song and dance about how it's a mere six days from Christmas when we will awaken, run downstairs in our PJs, and marvel at the wonder of all that Santa has generously provided.

And I got a blank stare. Santa is the one who goes to all the trouble, money, time, thought, and energy. Mom and Dad are just the ones who videotape the aftermath. Irrationally, I thought, "so why does Santa get all the glory?".

I also wondered if we're doing a good enough job instilling the proper values in our children. I grew up without much money and sometimes felt that I was missing out on things that my friends had. In reality, it was the crazy father that upset our homelife rather than the lack of another Barbie. Still, even knowing this, I tend to overcompensate; big birthday parties, big over-the-top Christmas, small purchases almost whenever they ask.

Is the result that my kids take things for granted or do they know that these things they have are hard-won? We talk about kids who don't have enough, we talk about giving to others. We try to model all these values but really, how do you instill a sense of gratitude in a preschooler - and how do you know if you're doing enough?

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[Ed: Got an email from a friend providing me some perspective along with this little pearl of wisdom:

"It's like Jeffrey Dahmer writing a book on food. "

JOY BEHAR ~ on celebrity mom Lynne Spears' upcoming book on parenting, which has been delayed indefinitely after her 16-year-old daughter, Jamie Lynn, announced that she was pregnant. ]

The Ongoing List of Bizarre Things We Say

Overheard this week at our little Cabina Contenta:

~ Sweetie, you can't do peeps with a sock on your hands. - MM to HRH

~ Did you just kiss that pancake? - Andy to RC

~ Ugh. Don't lick that off the floor! - MM and Andy to RC

~ I don't want you to ever play "orange juice" again. - MM to RC and HRH

Having People Over for Lunch

Who are we kidding here?

And why is it somehow only acceptable at Christmas time?

Mmm hmmm...

Why Nick Jr. Should Pay My Visa Bill

HRH (running breathlessly into kitchen):

Mommy!

Flippin' Frogs!

You put it together!

Batteries not included!

Exits

Can't Wait to Hear This Explanation

For those of you who know my 2-year-old, it's no surprise to hear that he's never met a mess he didn't make. I knew when saw this shirt on Babybrewing.com, that I had to have it. Truly the perfect marriage of man and medium.

Here is RC with his new shirt (Diego yogurt stain sold separately):
Here he is, several stains of unknown origin later, about to upend the dog's food and water and throw it all over the kitchen.which involved the use of these:and causing him to be placed in time out:
The shirt held up beautifully.
Manic Mommy? Not so much...

Can't We Just Play AquaDots Instead?

She couldn’t believe that she’d actually agreed to have a drink with him – and at his house no less!
I really can't stay - Baby it's cold outside
I've got to go away - Baby it's cold outside

She’d given in to the holiday spirit and now, here she was in this terrible weather, looking for a way to escape.
This evening has been - Been hoping that you'd drop in
So very nice - I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice

She thought to herself, “I’ll use the old parents excuse.”
My mother will start to worry - Beautiful, what's your hurry
My father will be pacing the floor - Listen to the fireplace roar
So really I'd better scurry - Beautiful, please don't hurry

He was already so far gone that she figured one more drink would send him over the edge and she could run.
Well Maybe just a half a drink more - Put some music on while I pour

She was beginning to wonder if anyone would hear her screams, should it come to that.
The neighbors might think - Baby, it's bad out there

She was beginning to feel the effects of something more than two glasses of “eggnog”
Say, what's in this drink - No cabs to be had out there

She could feel the waves crash over her, pulling her under
I wish I knew how - Your eyes are like starlight now
To break this spell - I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell
I ought to say no, no, no, sir - Mind if I move a little closer
At least I'm gonna say that I tried - What's the sense in hurting my pride
I really can't stay - Baby don't hold out
Ahh, but it's cold outside

C'mon baby

Before the euphoria fully envelops her, she puts it as plainly as possible:
I simply must go - Baby, it's cold outside
The answer is no - Ooh baby, it's cold outside

But tries not to awaken the beast that lurks inside
This welcome has been - I'm lucky that you dropped in
So nice and warm -- Look out the window at that storm

She thinks; let him think that someone will be looking for her
My sister will be suspicious - Man, your lips look so delicious

No, someone who could take him
My brother will be there at the door - Waves upon a tropical shore

She casts about for something that will help her.
My maiden aunt's mind is vicious - Gosh your lips look delicious

She reaches into her pocket and presses the panic button of the cell phone
Well maybe just a half a drink more - Never such a blizzard before
I've got to go home - Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there

She searches for some kind of weapon
Say, lend me your comb - It's up to your knees out there

She hears the sirens in the distance
You've really been grand - Your eyes are like starlight now

Keep him talking…
But don't you see - How can you do this thing to me
There's bound to be talk tomorrow - Making my life long sorrow
At least there will be plenty implied - If you caught pneumonia and died

Yes, the sirens are definitely headed this way.
I really can't stay - Get over that old out
Ahh, but it's cold outside
Baby it's cold outside
Brr its cold...It's cold out there
Can’t you stay awhile longer baby

She just needs to hold on for a few more seconds
Well... I really shouldn't... alright
Make it worth your while baby
Ahh, do that again...

Police! Hands in the air!

Things I Never Thought I'd Say - Part II

The Scene:
RC enters kitchen, opens silverware drawer, grabs a handful, and tosses them down the basement stairs.

HRH happens to be walking up the basement stairs.

MM: RC! Don't throw all the forks at your brother.

HRH: (completely and surprisingly unfazed). They were spoons.

Oh, well then.

From the Mouths of Babes

Transcript of this morning's conversation while HRH and I are brushing our teeth:

HRH: What's the name of that square shape only longer?

MM: You mean a rectangle?

HRH: No, it's still shaped like a square only higher.

(Indicates length/width/height with hands)

MM: Oh, you mean a cube.

HRH: Yeah! A pube.

MM: No, sweetie, a c-c-cube

HRH: A c-c-cube? With a "c", not a "p"?

MM: Uh-huh.

HRH: Okay.

A Clown of a Different Color

My sister and I were discussing not liking having the scary clown pictures front and center when you opened my blog - rather off-putting. In its place, I give you RC on the merry-go-round:

Told you he had a slightly different slant on things.

Should I be afraid yet?

HRH: It's a mad clown. I made it at school today.

I can just see the letter home now.

Things I Never Thought I'd Say - An Ongoing Post

Not things like "because I'm the mommy, that's why" or "you worry about you, I'll worry about (insert other child's name here)" although I'm saying those, too. It's more the totally non-sensical no-one-has-ever-said-these-words-together-before bon mots.

Like yesterday's

"No, RC. Don't wash your hands in the doggie's water."

or today's

"Don't lick that. There are germs on the Clinique counter at Macy's."

or how 'bout

"No, honey. You can't wear the blue and white sneakers today; you filled them with yogurt."

Overrated Pleasures

Now if I could just get Matt Damon to star in my sequel.

Really Expensive Purses
I am one of the most pretentious people I know so how the need for a fantastic bag has eluded me, eludes me. I just can't see the point in spending $600.00 for a Coach bag. Now if I got it on a great sale, that'd be different. That being said, when my MIL brought back my Longchamp purse from her trip to Paris, I loooved showing it off.

HDTV
When our TV dies, I know what we're getting but for the most part, I'm not impressed. My brother's got a nice one and the best thing he could say was that you could really see how good-looking the waitresses are at the Rogers Center, when the Red Sox play the Toronto Blue Jays.

Black Friday Sales
I actually saw and ad for a store that was opening at 4:00 am the day after Thanksgiving. My sister was one of those lunatics out there. She was showing me a new winter coat she bought for my niece for 60% off. I bought HRH a winter jacket at the same store for 50% off a few weeks ago - in the middle of the afternoon.

Facials
Eh. I can take 'em or leave 'em. Having a stranger squeeze invisible blackheads until my eyes water is not my idea of pampering. Also, when they blow that steam in your face, I get claustrphobic. I'd take a massage or a pedicure over one any day of the week.

Food Network
I come from a long line of chefs. I never thought much of Italian restaurants growing up because my dad's cooking surpassed the stuff they served. My brother actually cooks to relax. I appreciate good food but I cook because we have to eat. I don't enjoy it. And I certainly don't feel the need to watch someone else make it.

BBC Britcoms
Just because you don't get the joke doesn't make it clever. Sometimes they are, sometimes they're not.

Matthew McConaughey
I'll say it: I bought People's Sexiest Man Alive issue and read it cover to cover. Some I agree with completely (George Clooney). Some I don't agree with at all (Benicio Del Toro) but some just don't do it for me. Matthew McConaughey is one of them. He was so hot in A Time to Kill but I think that had more to do with his brainy-family-man-trying-to-do-the-right-thing character. And yeah, he's got an amazing body. But boy does he come across like a dufus.

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Shout out to bubandpie who provided the inspiration for both Underrated and Overrated Pleasures.
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Priceless

11.17.07 - Andy's sister visits for HRH's birthday. I decide it would be fun to go with MIL, SIL, Andy, and Boys to lunch at TGI Fridays (where they don't so much mind the screaming) so the waitstaff can sing Happy Birthday to HRH. It becomes apparent that it would be best if we left the restaurant prior to dessert. Cake at Casa Contenta (our house) instead.

11.18.07 - HRH's actual birthday. Dinner with my mother, dessert with my sister, her boyfriend, and my brother. Leftover cake and ice cream. More singing ensues.

11.19.07 - Teacher asks me if I'll be having cupcakes for the class. Seemed a little gratuituous since we've invited the entire class to the party but what the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound. Run to bakery and buy a dozen Thanksgiving colored cupcakes.

11.22.07 - Thanksgiving at our house. Eight for dinner. Thirteen for dessert. No cake but pie!

11.24.07 - HRH's "real" birthday party at "The Jumpy Place" - one of those converted warehouses filled up with inflated slides, bouncy houses, tunnels, and mazes. Featuring his entire class of nine, seven neighborhood kids, ten cousins, at least one parent for each kid, and a partridge in a pear tree. Diego cake, Hoodsies (are Hoodsies only a MA thing?), Diego balloons, Diego-colored decorations, huge 5 pinata, pinata-appropriate candy, pizza, soda, water, and juice boxes.

Not having to deal with this shit again until RC turns 3 in April: Priceless.

Oh. Right. Christmas.

Cake anyone?

You Like Me, You Really Like Me!

One of my favorite bloggers/entrepreneurs, Mommy Needs a Cocktail had a little contest to pick a caption for a new maternity shirt she's designing. I submitted the following:

• I’m gestating. What’s your excuse?
• My body was a temple, now it’s a factory.
• My eyes are up there ^.
• Nothing says I love you like an epidural.
  

Guess which of my submissions won? Go here to find out. Okay, no suspense. It was the last one.

I'm surprised and thrilled that I won because, honestly, it's an honor just to be nominated. If you don't believe me, or if you just need a really good laugh, go to http://mommyneedsacocktail.com/2007/11/14/baby-brewing-bump-contest/ and check out the other submissions. Hysterical.

So now my big decision is what should I select for my prize? Help me decide at http://babybrewing.com/main.sc.

Thanks again for this honor, Kristen. Hope the linky-love properly expresses my gratitude.

Underrated Pleasures

An unexpected meme created by Bub and Pie, propagated by The New Girl, and further purloined by Rose, and now me:

Clean Sheets
Slipping into bed at night after changing the sheets that day. No wrinkles, hospital corners still intact. Bounce smell still fresh.

A New Box of Crayons
We've been doing a lot more coloring lately. It's fantastic stress relief. I prefer coloring books, myself as they are even further down on the stress-meter; you don't even have to think about what to draw. And the best part is having a fresh box of Crayolas with nice sharp tips.

Hot Cocoa Tea Parties
During RC's naps, HRH and I will often sit at the table with mugs of hot chocolate and a little cup of mini-marshmallows between us to share. He eats them; I put them in the cocoa. I buy the cocoa without the marshmallows already in. It's better that way.

Clean Boys After a Bath Smell
Especially in feety pajamas. You've got to sniff their hair while you give them a hug.

Foot Rubs
Especially unsolicited. Best of all over a glass of wine, while we're having a nice, uninterrupted conversation. Also good while sitting on the couch watching TV.

The First Sip of Tea in the Morning
The caffeine travels so fast to my never endings and makes me sigh in pleasure.

Having Someone Else Wash your Hair at the Salon
It's decadent. If they do it right, it gives me chills.

Cleared, Clean, Countertops
'Nuff said.

My Five Year Old

HRH turned five yesterday. I consider this a Milestone Birthday. It's not poetry; it's just what I've been thinking about as we reach the big O-5.

• You were such an easy pregnancy.
• You were born a month to the day early.
• You had this amazing head of dark hair and stunning blue eyes. I knew they'd stay blue and they have.
• You were so tiny; from head to bum, you were the length of my forearm from elbow to wrist.
• When you and I were finally alone in the hospital room together, I looked at you and you looked familiar. Not in a 'gee, he looks like his dad' kind of way but in an 'I know you' kind of way.
• You took to nursing like a duck to water.
• Daddy had never been around babies before. In the hospital, he looked at me and said, 'show me how to change a diaper' so I did.
• Uncle John bought you a preemie outfit with a little doggie and a pocket because "it didn't look girly and besides, all four day olds need pockets, you know, for stuff."
• You moved your hands with an unnatural grace. We all said 'he's going to be a surgeon like his grandpa or a conductor.' Nana said 'or one of those guys at the airports with the flashlights that direct the planes.'

Now you're five.

• You're learning to read and do math.
• You dress yourself.
• You use the computer like a high schooler.
• You love preschool and gymnastics.
• You want to know how everything works.
• You never forget a thing.
• Most of the time you're a really good big brother.
• You still love to give me hugs and kisses.
• You have an amazing imagination and an odd sense of humor.
• You love to help me cook.
• When we kiss goodnight, we tell each other 'I love you up to the sky' only now we say up to the sun or Pluto, or Jupiter or another heavenly body.
• You're learning Spanish from Dora. Today, you asked me about Latin.
• You ask me about death and heaven and tell me you don't want to die because you'll miss me.

You're smart and complex, and becoming a man. But always my baby.

Seasons Change

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

Like Father...
Like Son...

My Son, the Doctor

RC: Mommy, put your foot in here.
MM and OB/GYN: Ha Ha Ha Ha!

During a waist-up visit to the gynocologist. RC has never been present for any other type, thank you very much.

Helena's Meme

My friend, Helena over at Eleni received a tag that she passed on to me back in the middle of September. It’s harder than you’d think – especially with a long name – so I’m just getting to it now. Yeah, that's the reason.

The rules are that I must spell my first name and give a little juicy tidbit about me.

Curls – What’s the opposite of poker straight hair? Is it prostitute kinky? If so, that’s me. My mom tells stories of trying in vain to get a brush through my hair as a child. During my pregnancy with RC, my hair went oddly straight in strange areas. After he was born, I relied on a straightening iron that fried my hair to the point of severe damage. After over a year of significant therapy (my hair, not me) and expensive products, I’m back to curly and more grateful this time around.

Hats – I have a good head for hats. I loves me a good straw hat in the summer and have several warm bucket hats for winter where the brim curls up all the way around.

Rugs – We buy disposable ones. It started off accidentally. I couldn’t find a pattern to go with my tapestry patterned living room furniture, so we bought an off-white Berber bound remnant for about $100.00 at Building 19. Add two kids and one incontinent dog and we figure we go through about two to three a year. Multiplied over 7 years, we could have a cheap Oriental by now. But what would we do with the mud, and the pee, and the chocolate milk, and the jelly? File this under“we’ll have nice things when we get old.”

Insecure – I am. Big time. Always have been. Next?

Street – I have the best neighborhood in the world. Think the Backyardigans only with everyone in the front. We live on a tiny cul-de-sac of ten houses (the 1930s version of a subdivision). There are seven kids under 5 and four more tween/teens (aka budding babysitters). We sit on porch steps and have a beer on summer evenings, order pizza for the street, and watch each other’s kids. Whenever Andy and I talk about moving to a bigger house, the first thing I think about is how much I’d hate leaving this place.

Tea – Whenever we’d go over to my Gram’s house (my mother’s mother), we’d always head straight for the kitchen and cup of tea with something sweet; usually a chocolate roll from the day old bakery. The last of the lace curtain Irish. Back then it was Red Rose. Now it’s got to be Twinnings English Breakfast. Prepared according to my specific OCD method: Tea water must be piping hot from the kettle, never microwaved (it fizzes), it is then poured into an oversized ceramic mug, where the string from the tea bag is wrapped around the handle so as to prevent the bag from falling in. Steeping time varies but should be around 5 minutes. Once the tea bag is removed, two teaspoons of sugar are added (according to size of oversized mug). Once the sugar has fully dissolved, milk may be added. Sip while hot, not scalding. Reheated microwaved tea has become a necessary evil but is far from preferred.

India – While working at a Catholic hospital managing employee health, my mom struck up a friendship with a young Indian priest, who lost his own mother at the age of 8. They are extremely close with Mathew calling my mom “Amma”, the Malayalam (Indian dialect) name for Mother. My mom is returning to India for the fourth time on the day after Thanksgiving. Mathew is now the director of an English school there and when my mom arrives, she is treated like a visiting dignitary. It’s not too much of a stretch to picture my mom spending part of her retirement volunteering at a hospice six months a year in Kerala, India.

New – As in you learn something new everyday. I was at Stop and Shop this afternoon WITHOUT CHILDREN. So of course I noticed everybody else’s little angels. There was a mom with a daughter around the same age as RC in the cart discussing why they didn’t need to buy three jars of peanut butter, which certainly familiar enough. Then the mom began reading the label to her daughter; “hmm, low sodium, high protein, fat’s okay, too. Okay, Sweetie, lets get just one.” How great was that? I’m really good at “No. That’s not healthy.” But to introduce them to that level of nutrition as part of the normal babble of daily chores was something I hadn’t considered. Now I will.

Empty – Nothing like going out on a low note but that’s my brain right now.

But check out Helena's site - she's a bag designer and her stuff is *to die for*
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Hey! I've made another wardrobe change. You know you're thinking it; "Ugh white after Labor Day! And with her coloring? What was she thinking?" But I really liked the masthead. I know; it's like buying shoes that don't match anything. We'll see what I can do to accessorize.

What a difference a day makes

Yesterday, after we put the kids to bed, I lay on my bed in my pink plaid flannel pajamas and told Andy that today had felt like failure. The score was:

Kids: 1 (or 1,000 if I felt like being melodramatic)
Mom:0

Both kids have had a cough for the better part of a month. That's it; a dry, croup-y, wakes them and us up all night, oh-by-the-way, we-don't-give-cough-medicine-to-kids-under-age-40-anymore cough. They're irritable, I'm irritable. We're having listening issues, and respect issues, and sleep deficit issues.

Oh, and RC continues his antics in spades. Yesterday, it involved him attacking this Erector set/drinking straw/scaffolding-looking thing that HRH's whole class had worked together to build and was being displayed in the hallway for all the parents to admire. Uh, not anymore. It's funny, it's exasperating, it's two-year-old behavior - and it's happening far too frequently to be amusing anymore.

It basically came down to me not being the kind of mom I wanted to be. I yelled when I should have reasoned, I reacted when I should have ignored, I relented when I said no too quickly, and I resented being that way.

Fast forward 24 hours: I was reasonably sure that the primary topic for tonight's Parent-Teacher conference would be my allowing HRH to attend preschool when he clearly has tuberculosis.

Instead, Andy and I sat and beamed while the obviously skilled and insightful educator explained that in all her years, she has NEVER had a student so advanced for his age - academically and socially. That my boy is "a joy to have in the classroom," that he eagerly helps others, expresses his emotions positively, blah, blah, blah: superlatives, compliments, accolades.

I'm modest, so I won't bore you with the praise she heaped on us for the work we've done with him.

Clearly, I am the best mother in the world. Until tomorrow.

The Death of Me

Huh?

Hmmm...

Uh oh...

Hmph.

Personally, I would have skipped the Special K and gone for the Lucky Charms.

But that's me.

Does this template make my butt look smaller?

October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month is over and although this is one of my most heartfelt causes, I really did hate the pink, so it (not my support) is gone. I'm thinkin' it's just about time to buy me one of those cool boutique mastheads for the holidays. In the meantime, I'll be trying out different templates for a little wardrobe update. I'm getting tired of buying off the Blogger rack. Mommy Blog Couture. What an oxymoron.

There are two ways to ask the question in my subject line:

1. Does this make my ass look big? - Indicating denial that you do in fact, have a big ass and are making sure that the clearly inferior article of clothing you've placed over it does not inadvertently advertise that you've got some junk in the trunk.

2. Does this make my butt look smaller? - Baby got back - and knows it. You can see the difference. This statement indicates more magical thinking and less denial. Like there's some amazing bit of seamstress artistry (most likely involving smoke and mirrors) that suddenly makes one's size 10 jeans look like the size 6's she keeps in the way back of the drawer because "some day...".

Anyway, feel free to answer the question. And don't you think the darker color is more slimming?

Misty Water Colored Memories

Back in April, about a week before RC's 2nd birthday, we had our first Emergency Room visit. I didn't have a blog back then but I'm not letting that stop me from telling a pretty good boys-will-be-boys story. Here's the email I sent out to friends and family:

So yesterday afternoon, HRH undid the gate at the bottom of our stairs and headed up. He did not relatch the gate, so naturally, RC followed. I'm in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher when I hear the thump-thump-thump. I arrive at the bottom of the stairs just as RC does, face first. He got a half inch gash just below his right eyebrow and it's bleeding like a sieve!

I call my mother in law, who lives around the corner and she comes over to watch HRH. Next call is to Andy. I leave him a voicemail with RC screaming in background. I thought I got the "he's okay but I want it checked out" across but who knows?

End result is that he now has three stitches above his eye. The hospital was fantastic. We only waited about ten minutes then were brought into a room where we were given bubbles, a pinwheel, a toy train, lollypop and our choice of kids' videos.

Poor Andy arrived just before they had to wrap RC in a blanket (like a cat when you cut his nails) while two doctors, two nurses, and I pin him down to stitch him up. I'm there right next to his face saying "mommy's here, it's okay”, etc. while he screamed. I think it was definitely the pinned thing rather than the stitches that had him so upset. The thing that finally calmed him down was when I said we'd go home soon and see HRH. Right after they let him loose, he sat up and said "sink you" (thank you) to everyone. Of course they all melted.

He lost the bandaid first thing as it was bugging him and he kept pulling at it. Now he's got the stitches exposed (which they said is okay) and every once in a while, I catch him pulling on the actual threads. My sister suggested we may need to get a cone. :-)

Somehow, I think this is pretty much how the next 15 years are going to go with these boys...

Reduce, Reuse, Regurgitate

On the heels of Notes from the Trenches' Chris' and Motherhood Uncensored's Kristen's recent posts regarding Freecycle, and sharing in Suburban Correspondent's love of a good vomit story, I came across this post on our local freecycle board, posted 10/22/07:

OFFER: Expired turkey (Lawrence and Main)

I have most of a 10 oz package of deli turkey that expired 10/11/07. Maybe you have a pet that would like it.

Thanks!

No, thank you. WTF? Where do I even start? That it's already opened? That it was already 11 days past expiration when you posted it? That if I were going to euthanize one of my pets through cruel and unusual punishment, I'd club them over the head? Too...many...thoughts...

How 'bout you guys come up with your best/worst local Freecycle post? I'm tagging Helena, Phoenix, and Kristin, with this one. Mrs. Chicky, you may abstain from this one so as not to counteract the Zofran. Hope this didn't already.

CSI - New England

Scene: Loud crying erupts from previously playing children in livingroom.

MM: What was that?

RC enters kitchen, holding head, sobbing. HRH at his heels.

MM crouches down to kiss and make it all better.

MM (in sing-songy voice): Whaaat haaappennned?

HRH (not letting RC get a word in edgewise): He was on the coffee table -

RC: Sobs unintelligibly over HRH's explanation.

MM kisses boo-boo again.

HRH: He was on the coffee table -

RC (around pacifier in mouth): I'm all better, Mom.

(and he is! RC is the fastest healer I've ever met)

HRH (compulsive confessor/'the informer'): Wait! I'll show you:

Fin.

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

Also? A shout out to my doppleganger. I never said I was original. Give her a look-see. She's funny, too! And to quote The New Girl, is there room for one more?

As Heard From the Back Seat

Manic Mommy: Hey guys, look at the pretty red tree out the window.

HRH: It's out MY window.

RC: It's out MY window.

HRH: No! It's out MY window.

RC: No! It's out MY window.

HRH: No! It's out MY window.

RC: No! It's out MY window.

...continues until MM drives into a bridge abutment...(not really)

HRH (with air of superiority): We can fight about this later. Let's talk about something else. I'm four. How old are you?

RC (deadpan): I'm four.

HRH (aghast at his rightful place as OLDEST being called into question): No you're not! You're two!

RC (practically smirking): I'm four.

HRH (apoplectic): YOU'RE TWO!

RC: I'm four.

Manic Mommy turns up radio and eyes passing bridge abutment...she's in big trouble...

We Can't Have Nice Things - 2 - The Car

As I was taking these pictures, then downloading them, I had to decide if I was too emabarassed to show them. I guess I have no shame. For ease of reference, I've divided the pictures into specific sections.

I. PHYSICAL DAMAGE:

A. No good deed goes unpunished.

Andy was away on business at the same time that my youngest sister totalled her car (I know, bad omen). Rather than her shelling out the money on a rental, I told her to take my truck for a few days while Andy was traveling and I'd drive his car. How can I get mad at her when she was hit and run in a parking lot? I can't - Andy can get a 'little' mad...

B. Why Andy can't be mad at my sister anymore.

I previously mentioned Andy's boat, That Kintner Boy and that he'd gotten most of the parts from Ebay. One such part involved a drive to a farm in Rhode Island. After carefully loading the parts into the back of the truck in big plastic bins to keep the back neat, he proceeded to drive into a huge boulder located directly in front of where he'd parked my truck.

C. From dual zone control to zero zone control (what a metaphor).

As a child, I fondly remember sitting in my friend's father's car and playing "driving" and thinking my parents were total party poopers for not letting us play in their cars. Uh, well, if you look closely, you'll see the shiny copper of a penny stuck in the bottom of the slots where the heat/AC controls should go. Attempting to remove the loose change (the penny has friends) cost us both hand controls. We now rely on a old house key to adjust the heat. Very handy.

II. TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING

A. Can you say "peripheral vision impairment"?

Last year, HRH was having some difficulty with some of his pronunciation, so we signed him up for speech therapy. After each session, the therapist would give him a sticker for a job well done. After the first visit, he was so proud of his sticker, he asked if he could place it on the window. I, of course agreed. Never in my wildest imaginings did I envision just how many places will hand out stickers to preschoolers when asked using perfect diction and an adorable smile. You may recognize the top ones as the labels Starbucks uses to denote different blends of coffees. They're the kids' favorites.

B. The 'way back' Mr. Peabody.

Here we've got leis and stuff from the Jimmy Buffett concert on Labor Day, my yoga bag, grocery bags (I'm so green), hand-me-downs returned by my sister more than a week ago that still haven't made it into my house, the stroller, an extra sweatshirt or 12, and to be honest, I just don't know what else.

III. SUPERFUND SITES

A. Harboring that Supervirus Bossy Mentioned

This is the door handle on RC's side of the car. Other than the lollypop sticks, I really can't identify the what else is there. I don't open or close his door from the inside so it took me a while to even notice this petrie dish.

B. What? His Feet Don't Touch The Floor

This is the floor in front of the seat where I allow my child to sit. Whatever he's got in his hands, gets immediately dumped - M&Ms, goldfish, vanilla milk from Starbucks, giant M&M cookie from Starbucks (are we sensing a pattern here?) orange crackers, etc. I know; stop letting him eat in the car. NOT AN OPTION.

** In answer to the question all of you are asking, yes, these pictures did shame me into taking the car to the good car wash that vacuums it out for you. And yes, I tipped well.

Let Us Pray...

Please bow your heads.

A Prayer for the Red Sox

Our Father, who art at Fenway...
Baseball be thy game.
Thy Kingdom come,
Playoffs need to be won,
On Earth, then on to the Cask 'n' Flagon.
Give us this day, a perfect Papi
And forgive us our losses,
As we forgive those,
Like Bill Buckner
And lead us not, into desperation,
But deliver us from any losses.
For thine has the Power,
And the Glory,
To beat the Indians,
Forever and ever....the Yankees suck
Amen

Also, a smaller prayer that there is a bar with a TV at the wedding we're going to tonight.

The Dy-Manic Duo

The Caped Crusader:

The Caped Invader:

It's for you...

Phone rings. I pick up in the basement. It's Andy.

HRH (a second later from upstairs): Hel-lo?

Andy: Hi HRH, it's Daddy. How are you? How was school today? (more parent/child phone conversational drivel ensues). HRH, can you please press the red button so I can talk to Mommy?

HRH: Okay, Daddy, I'm putting you on speaker. (Does it. The Backyardigans - I mean Sesame Street - singing in the background)

RC (plaintive whining through located contraband pacifier): I wanna talk to Daddy!

Andy: Hi RC. HRH, can you please press the red button? (beep as HRH disconnects)

Andy (to me): So I was onli- (beep as HRH rejoins conversation).

HRH: Mommy, I want a drinking yogurt.

Me: Sure baby, get one from the fridge and please press the red button (beep as HRH disconnects).

Andy: ...looking at different options for kindergart- (beep as RC joins conversation, pacificier still in mouth). I can't do this.

RC: I wanna talk to Daddy!! (immediately disconnects).

Me: No, it's okay now. ..

Sounds of RC coming downstairs.

Me: So, we'll talk about this when you get home?

Andy: Uh, yeah. Bye, lo-

Me: No. Don't touch that. You'll break the computer!

Disconnect.

When No Words Are Necessary

Meme ~ What's in a Name?

***************************
At the suggestion of Kristen at Motherhood Uncensored, I've gone pink for the month of October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I do this with fond thoughts and memories of my cousin, Elle, who lost her fight two years ago last month.

Now back to our regularly scheduled...whatever it is I do here...

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

Here's a meme that Phoenix stole from somewhere. I liked it, so I'm re-stealing it. Like her, I'm using my Bloggy pseudonym in place of my real name.

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car):
Tabitha Trailblazer (that's kind of cool...but wait 'til you get to the tour...)

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (favorite ice cream flavor, favorite cookie):
Pistachio Sandy (less cool)

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name) M-Mom (really lame)

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Green Cat (dumb, but really, I blame the question)

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)
Mary Brighton (sounds right)

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)
Mom-Ma (most lame)

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink)
The Blue Margarita (now we're talkin')

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers)
William William (can I go with Bill William?)

9. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy)
Happy Kisses (as in Hersheys)

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names)
Ellen Louis (uh, sure)

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter)
Nilus New Orleans (actually, I went to Catholic school and my fifth grade teacher was Sister Nilus. If you asked, I'd have to tell you her first name was 'sister.' )

12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower)
Summer Iris (I like it, I really like it!)

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”)Honeydew Khaki (no comment either way)

14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree)
Pumpkin Muffin Evergreen (In 1968? I could see it)

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”)
The Home Improvement Thunderstorm Tour (Not even my mother would go)

Happy Birthday, Mom

Today's my mother's birthday. And I didn't attend her birthday brunch at my sister's because I went to the Cape for an overnight with my girlfriends. I was able to go without guilt because my mommy loves me, and gets me, and understands just how much I needed to get away.

Love you, Mum. Up to the sky.

That Kintner Boy

Andy bought a boat last year. More precisely, he bought the hull of a boat, then he bought the remaining parts like say the engine, transmission, wiring harness (yes, I know what that is now) on eBay and Craigslist. He spent many cold evenings out in the garage over the past year putting it all together and this past Sunday, all his hard work paid off: He and our neighbor, that's him in the picture, successfully launched That Kintner Boy! And didn't sink!

Andy is beside himself with glee. I think I could ask him for anything - (just off the top of my head, of course) a new livingroom set, a Honda Pilot, a third child, a girls' night away - and he would give it to me. And this Saturday, the boat is going to pay off for me too!!

I wrote a post a while back about missing my friend, Chris and the fun our little gang of four used to have. After reading this post by Bossy, was inspired to contact them and say 'Okay, enough's enough. When are we getting together?' God was with us and this weekend, we're going to Wendy's cottage for an overnight!! No kids, no spouses, just lots of high calorie food, adult beverages, and uninterrupted conversation!!

Chris is the problem child in this equation so we're hard at work on Plan B. This may or may not involve slowing the SUV, opening the door, and grabbing her. I can roughly find where her sister-in-law lives so we can drop the kids on the way. I think it's a solid plan.

So, thank you, Andy. Thank you, Bossy. And thank you, Alex Kintner.

Wisdom of Experience

While I watching my sister's 3-year-old twins. RC ripping toys from his cousins' hands:

Me (exasperated): RC! Do you want a time out?

The Nephew (conspiratorial whisper out the side of his mouth): Say "no."


Clearly, the Nephew had been fooled by the trick question before.

And I Think To Myself...

What a Wonderful World. My heart is smiling, too. I love you, HRH.

The Worst Thing That Could Ever Happen to a Parent

We were at my MIL's today after gymnastics so Andy could assist her in planting some arborvitae. My SIL was there too. Then Andy's brother phoned. He had been called to the hospital because their neighbor's seven-year-old daughter had collapsed at her soccer game and died.

I can't wrap my brain around it and I can't stop thinking about it. I have very few details. The whole extended family had gathered at the hospital. My BIL was there because the father is his best friend since childhood. The one thought that keeps repeating like a broken record is this is the worst thing that could ever happen.

What happens now? For the longest time, they stayed at the hospital. The mom, just holding her daughter. How can you let go? Letting go means losing that last connection. How do you leave? How do you go home? If they're like me, her pajamas, that she was told to pick up are lying on the floor. Her breakfast dishes are in the sink. Her bed's not made.

These parents have to explain to their two remaining little girls that their sister is dead. One of the girls is little older than a toddler - they'll have to explain it again and again. They'll have to plan a funeral. They'll have to think about their little girl's body being autopsied. They'll have to figure out which dress to bury her in.

They don't have the 'luxury' of getting into bed and pulling the covers over their heads. They have to get up tomorrow morning. They have to get on with their lives. I can't imagine how.

I pray they hadn't been yelling at her this morning. I pray both of them were there, not doing the typical 'divide and conquer' of weekend parenting. I pray her sisters were not there. I pray she wasn't scared. I think about the other kids at the soccer game, about her classmates and friends. About how far-reaching her death will be.

We all know it; it's our worst fear and yet, we don't allow ourselves to think about it. Today, I've thought of nothing else. And I've hugged my kids a little tighter.

You Fucked with the Wrong Marine!

Last Wednesday was HRH's second day of school and to celebrate, I took RC out with me to buy Andy a couple of new pairs of khakis and some new shirts. I'm a party girl from way back.

Anyway, he liked the way the first pair fit (same pants, different colors) and wore them on Thursday. Friday is casual day so he went to work in jeans. This morning as he was putting on the second pair, he noticed that each pant leg had an approximately one inch cut along both seams on the cuff.

This afternoon, I went to exchange them, receipt in hand. The cashier provided me with a green ‘exchange ticket’ and I began looking for a similar pair and browsing. When I approached the cashier station a second time, the store manager was up there and told me that he would not exchange the pants and accused me of purposely altering them.

He stated that 'his cashier' would never have allowed them to leave the store this way - uh-huh???

He questioned me as to why they were damp - they were not, merely cold from being in the car on a cold day.

He said they smelled of laundry detergent - they did not.

He asked why the tags were off - uh, because my husband had planned to wear the pants to work that day.

He asked why I had not noticed the cuts - because I was shopping without my husband and am not in the habit of trying on his clothing.

Dude, you got me, this is what I do for fun. I take a pair of twenty-freakin'-five dollar pants home, wait a few days, wreck them, then bring them back to the store so my kids can run around like wild men while I fight with a retail store manager. That's my idea of a good time. Afterward, I'm going to load the kids up with sugar, then go to a busy restaurant, where I'll return my food.

Eventually, while the kids destroyed a cuff link display (I totally let them) and as three other sets of patrons witnessed our tete-a-tete, he acquiesced and agreed to exchange the pants this one time.

Even now, two hours later, after writing the requisite hate letter to the corporate office and calling my immediate family to vent I'm so filled with righteous indignation, I had to blog...

Picture Jack Nicolson in A Few Good Men (only I'm innocent): I eat breakfast 3 feet from two preschoolers plotting to kill me. So don't think for one second you can come down here, flash a tape measure and make me nervous.

What's for Breakfast?

RC (opening mouth wide): Mommy, look what I eat!

Mommy (nervously peering in): What did you eat, baby?

RC: Booger! Like dinner.

This is why we can't have nice things - Part 1

And now for a scenic tour of the things that have gotten wrecked by my kids:

Item 1: This is part of the loveseat we bought for the playroom less than a year ago. This one-of-a-kind throw pillow art brought to you by HRH (at least they're happy faces).
Item 2: My MIL is sabotaging my attempts to purchase a new diningroom set by giving us her old one (which in itself was a hand-me-down). This is the one chair I've recovered so far. It's now got something greasy on it.

Item 3: HRH told me he liked Fluff not jelly. I suggested he try it. In case you were wondering, he's still a Fluff guy.

Item 4: We have one of those combination DVD/VCR players on which the DVD portion is broken. Rather than rush out to buy a new one, we brought another DVD player in and threw it on top of the TV. To switch between DVD and VCR we simply slide the TV cabinet out and reconnect the cords - sometimes two to three times a day. This is the floor in front of it. Lovely.

Item 5: I used to use coasters on this table. When I say it's distressed, I mean it.

Item 6: The wall beside HRH's seat at the kitchen table. In his defense, the wall jogs out where a supporting beam had to go when we enlarged the kitchen.

Item 7: This is the wall next to RC's seat at the kitchen table. The two top circles are around two screws indicating where the phone used to be. During dinner, RC would continuously knock the phone onto his own head and/or wrap the cords around his neck. You'll also notice the rather large picture hanging over the table. It doubles very nicely as a pendulum when swung with enough force by a fork.

Item 8: Okay, the cat shredded the arm of the couch, not the kids. But you get the idea.

We can't have nice things.

Stay tuned for "This is why we can't have nice things Part 2 - The Car."

Requiem for a Friendship

Following the death of his father, Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote this amazing piece of music, Pie Jesu, which was sung by his then wife, Sarah Brightman. I think Sarah is basically a big cow but her voice is truly an instrument. It is crystal; it is as clear as 1st violin solo and as haunting.

Andrew has always reminded me of a turtle but again, his work is astounding. I had the thrill of seeing Phantom of the Opera for the first time in Los Angeles, performed by Michael Crawford, who originated the role of The Phantom in London. What always struck me about Webber's gift was its ability to allow him to so beautifully express emotions, in the case of Pie Jesu, his grief.

My birthday was this past Sunday and my best friend, didn't call and hasn't sent a card. I miss her and I miss our relationship in the same way that I would its death.

Chris and I began our friendship when she transferred to my school in 7th grade and we began bike riding together. She is/was my soulmate in a way that I don't know that spouses can ever be. Someone who totally got me and loved me anyway. She and I shared every secret. We traveled to Bermuda together senior year in high school and went on a cruise together for her bachelorette party. I've pulled her away from the wrong guy at a club and she's held my hair when I threw up from too much booze.

When she got married in 1994, we spent the week leading up to her wedding doing last minute tasks and drinking cheap champagne everyday. When her dad died nearly 10 years ago, she asked me to go back to her mom's house after the wake because my presence comforted her. I knew where the wine glasses were before her own brother did and I was lumped together by her mother with Chris and her sisters as one of "her girls." I was in the hospital room with Chris and her husband the day her son was born, toasting him with champagne.

We used to go walking together for miles and miles and always said that it was cheaper than therapy and better aerobic exercise as we solved all our problems as the day turned to night. Together with her cousin and our friend, Wendy, the four of us played together throughout our 20s and into marriage and babies. We claimed that anyone near us at a restaurant got an earful funnier, raunchier, and more accurate than any episode of Sex and the City.

Now I'm at home and Chris is back to work as a teacher. I've seen her two or three times in the past year and talked to her by phone only a handful more. We've lost our connection.

I understand that we're all busy with our lives, I understand that her boys are in different places than mine. I get all of that but that doesn't change the fact that I miss her and I worry about her. She needs my friendship as much as I need hers. It's a touchstone, a reality check, something to feel good about - someone who knows who we really are - not who we pretend or want to be.

I don't know that we can ever pick up where we were. I don't know if there will ever be a person in my life that I am so totally connected with. And I'm angry and sad and it reduces me to tears. Like a death.

The Backside of Determination

One of the primary reasons I live near Boston is because of its excellent health care facilities.

As American as Baseball and Margaritas

I've got a mixed (but mostly positive) review about Jimmy Buffett's Labor Day Weekend Show this past Sunday.

If you've never been to a Buffett concert, it's important to note that the pre-concert tailgate is like NOTHING you've ever seen before. It truly is a one-day vacation. As one friend put it years ago, you're as likely to see Volvos and minivans as you are to see beaters and just as likely to smell cigar smoke as marijuana smoke. The age of the crowd varies widely. Just in our group, the oldest was closing in on 60 and the youngest was 26. Lots of people bring their kids. We opt not. So here was my day:

For starters, I made sure I was dressed appropriately:Many, many positive comments on the t-shirt and I was quick to give you full credit, Kristen.

We met up at my brother's house, where he informed us that he had a friend from work coming on an extra ticket. Turns out the co-worker is one of my very best friends that I've known since I was a freshman in high school. This made my whole day. And the more I drank, the happier I was he was there.We hit the parking lot around 12:00 noon for an 8:00 pm show - and the lot we were in closed shortly after we arrived. It's an all-day affair and we're veterans, so we come prepared for every eventuality. Delightful.

In past years, the show has been at Great Woods/The Tweeter Center in Mansfield, MA. This is a terrific venue with lawn seats, a pavillion, and a huge parking lot. The rules are pretty relaxed on Buffett days regarding open containers so you can spend a good chunk of the day wandering and drinking/drinking and wandering.

This year, it was at Gillette Stadium , so people-watching involves moving between parking lots by way of Rte 1. FYI: Mass State Police: less relaxed than the aforementioned Tweeter Security but still great guys considering.

All that being said, I still did manage to see a lot of people and things and meet some new friends as well.

After this point, I stopped carrying my cell phone and camera. So, luckily, there are few recorded images of me (thank God). My friend, David will also say amen that I haven't posted his pirate pictures. I do wish I had a picture of that 24-year-old I was dancing with at to Fins. Hmph.

The concert itself was good. I don't know if it was up to usual standards. While Gillette is great place to watch The Patriots in my opinion, it lacks the intimacy most conducive to a full Buffett experience. Maybe it was too big for Jimmy as well. He seemed a bit off.

I'll take an okay Jimmy Buffett concert over a day of laundry and dishes any day. When you're at Buffett, everyone's 22 without a care in the world - at least for a few hours. And that's about how long I like it.

Mental Yoga

Slouching Mom passed along a challenge for a 26 word poem, each word beginning with a consecutive letter of the alphabet. Below is my (feeble) attempt:

Again, boys challenge
Dueling, Edipus forever

Girls hide, ironically
Justice kind

Loving means naught, obviously

Patient queries
Reasoned Scenarios

To understand vitriol

Whithering Xanadu
Yearning Zen



Try your own and email me the link and I'll post.

Second Base

"Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth? Have you ever been felt up? Over the bra, under the blouse, shoes off...hoping to God your parents don't walk in? Over the panties, no bra, blouse unbuttoned, Calvin's in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?" - Bender to Claire in The Breakfast Club

You and I have been together for nearly a month now and I think it's time we take this thing to second base. Here are ten things about me that you don't know:

1. I am enrolled as a bone marrow donor and have been for about 15 years. I even got called once to go to the next round of testing. Unfortunately, I wasn't a close enough match.
   


2. Although I am no cook, I make great chicken soup from scratch. Despite being half Italian, I can't make sauce (gravy) to save my soul.
   


3. After next Sunday, I will have been to see Jimmy Buffet in concert each year for the past 10 years.
   


4. I am terrified of bugs.
   


5. I have claustrophobia, not so much that I can't get on an elevator but if I'm crowded in, I'll have little palpatations. I take the stairs when I can.
   


6. I can touch my nose with my tongue.
   


7. I am the second girl in a family of three girls and one boy.
   


8. I was involved in an accident while test driving a 1996 VW Jetta. (I decided against buying the car.)
   


9. I have a very good eye for color and design, that I inherited from my father, a contractor. At the time of his death in January, I hadn't spoken to him in about four years.
   


10. I am a Trivial Pursuit savant. I remember the most ridiculous details about people, places, and events but frequently forget where my keys and cell phone are.

And now, Helena, it's time to return the favor.

Goddamn Clock - tick, tick, tick

I have two boys, ages two and nearly five. I love them as only another mother can understand. I say this with no fear of alienating or insulting their father. It was Andy who quoted Stephen King, of all people to me: "The soil of a man's heart is stonier. A man grows what he can... and he tends it." and understands that the love of a mother is just different from that of a father.

Put simply, I feel like there's someone else out there who's supposed to have our last name and make my two boys share the bigger bedroom. I turn 39 in a week and a half. As one of my very favorite bloggers, The New Girl, put it, "it's either now or never and I don't want the answer to be never."

So here I sit; firmly on the fence. Andy's pretty much on the fence, too - although definitely leaning to (d)one side. I have one very close friend who stopped at two and regrets it. I have other friends who went for the third and LOVE it. I know still more (okay, one) who has three and regrets/resents it.

I look at our little family, fitting neatly into the SUV but able to travel in the little compact when called upon and think, are we ready for a car with three rows? I look back at this past weekend at Storyland and think how much easier it is to say "you take him, I've got this one" and know everyone's covered.

It's the man-to-man vs. zone defense argument. It's reading all these posts about newborns never sleeping and remembering the overwhelming, crying-while-rocking-the-baby-in-the middle-of-the-night exhaustion. It's thinking about boy #1 in kindergarten, boy #2 going to preschool next year and me beginning design school. I think about all these reasons NOT to do it and still I think that I'm supposed to.

That's "supposed to" as in the universe, not society. I think about all those people who have told me that they knew they weren't done and that their last child completed their family in a way they did not even know was lacking. I think I might be one of them.

So, my friends, let me know. You lurker(s), comment! Give me your input. Email my link to your friends. I want it all - the opinions, the anecdotes, and the horror stories. How often do you have the opportunity to profoundly influence a total stranger's personal decisions?

Nana Rant

I actually like my mother mother-in-law quite a bit. She is a loving, well-educated, warm, wonderful woman. She is well-versed in politics, religion, economics, etc. Blah, blah, blah....good person...you get the idea.

So with all this going for her, why is it impossible for her to remember that my two-year-old naps each day between approximately 2:00 and 4:00 pm?? Once again, she arrived at about 3:00 pm today sending my darling Maddie-dog into heart-stopping, ear-bleeding yelps of ecstasy. Maddie is hard-wired that way; she's a mini schnauzer and barking is her thing. Nana should know better.


So now my afternoon interlude has been interrupted by this:

Ugh.

Spa Day for Maddie

Sitting-on-my-lap-having-an-anxiety-attack-while-I-drive-Maddie-before:

Proud-and-confident-middle-aged-Schnauzer-after:

Damn, I wish a day at the spa would do this for me.