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...