When I last left you on my month long challenge of Kicking Complaining to the Curb, I was having myself a pity party over a crummy day. I'd like to tell you that the very next day I picked myself up, plastered a smile upon my face, and got busy being positive. But, it didn't quite work out that way.
Oh, I was positive alright, but it wasn't my attitude. I was positive for Strep Throat. When I last left you, I was on my way out the door to take First and Secondborn to the Pedi for what I thought were colds. Unfortunately, my car battery was dead and I wasn't able to. Hubby replaced the battery that afternoon and I rescheduled their appointments for the following morning.
The Pedi thought as I did, and that they both had viruses and would just need to work their way through them. But, he tested them for Strep since it's been showing up at his office like wildfire. The Pedi was incredibly surprised that both kids were, indeed, positive.
After writing out multiple prescriptions for steroidal breathing treatments and antibiotics, he asked me to open my mouth and say, "Ahhh". After take a look see he wrote me a prescription. I thought he was being cute and it would say something along the lines of, "Get some rest, Mom". But, no. It told me to get to my doctor immediately.
So, while sitting in the car line at the pharmacy to drop off for the second time within three hours, I called my dear friend, Amanda. You remember her, right? She's the one who helped inspire this project of Kicking Complaining to the Curb and the Grateful Granny Square project.
I called and proceeded to be anything but positive. There were tears. There were curse words, There were complaints, and lots of 'em baby. But, as I boo-hoo-ed in the drive through line to Amanda, I actually began to feel better.
How could that be? I had been on this quest for positive enlightenment. To admit that complaining not only lightened my mental load, but provided for some much needed good laughs would be to admit defeat, failure.
So, here goes. I failed Kicking Complaining to the Curb....sort of.
Yes, I complained. Who wouldn't with four strep diagnosis in one household within one week? (Yup, even Hubby fell ill.) We felt like poo and our throats were itchy and burning. And, because we were all ill, we were all house bound. Throw in the fact that both First and Secondborn were on two separate steroidal treatments apiece, twice daily, and you've got yourself a recipe for insanity.
But, I found that holding all those complaints close to the breast probably would have done far more damage than letting them out. So, while most would count my challenge a complete failure, I count it as successful. Well, maybe not a soaring success, mind you, but I took away some powerful knowledge.
I was reminded of how good it feels to look on the brighter side of a messy situation. But, it also feels good to have a great friend who'll lend an ear, and throw in some dirty words with you when that brighter side is too clouded over to glimpse. I'm catching myself before I get grouchy and grumpy, and rerouting my attitude with much more ease than in the past.
Kids, jobs, spouses, life, it gets in the way of what we feel our life should be. Well, it's just that. It's life. You do the best you can, and move on. And, this is me moving on. I humbly admit that Kicking Complaining to the Curb kicked my hiney.....sort of. How 'bout we just call it a draw?
Monday, November 28, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
21 November KCttC
Today's challenge is an epic fail, and all before lunch time.
The kids and I've been sick with a yucky cold all weekend, hence no blog catching up. Sorry.
This morning I knew it was time to call the pedi since Firstborn now sounded like his cold had landed in his chest and would need to go back on breathing treatments. So, I called and made an appointment for 2:15. Forty-five minutes later they called to see if they could move my appointment up to 1:00. I was more than willing to go ahead and get the appointment over with so I agreed.
After fighting with Secondborn for half an hour over what constituted appropriate footwear we headed out the door only to find that the Mommymobile would not start. It tried to turn over followed by lots of clicking indicating I am most likely in need of a new battery. Awesome. I'm sure that will result in yet another economics lesson that I will have to endure.
At this point I am failing miserably at staying positive. But, maybe after going back to bed, drinking some hot tea, and downing enough Ibuprofen to take out a six year old I'll be in a more positive mindset. One can only hope, right?
The kids and I've been sick with a yucky cold all weekend, hence no blog catching up. Sorry.
This morning I knew it was time to call the pedi since Firstborn now sounded like his cold had landed in his chest and would need to go back on breathing treatments. So, I called and made an appointment for 2:15. Forty-five minutes later they called to see if they could move my appointment up to 1:00. I was more than willing to go ahead and get the appointment over with so I agreed.
After fighting with Secondborn for half an hour over what constituted appropriate footwear we headed out the door only to find that the Mommymobile would not start. It tried to turn over followed by lots of clicking indicating I am most likely in need of a new battery. Awesome. I'm sure that will result in yet another economics lesson that I will have to endure.
At this point I am failing miserably at staying positive. But, maybe after going back to bed, drinking some hot tea, and downing enough Ibuprofen to take out a six year old I'll be in a more positive mindset. One can only hope, right?
Friday, November 18, 2011
18 November KCttC
It's nap time. The house is fairly quiet save the Soundscapes digital music channel playing, and the sounds of Hubby working from home in his office. Secondborn is fast asleep in her own bed, while Firstborn is snuggled up fast and close to me in the big bed. Try as I might, there just doesn't seem to be anything that I could find wrong with this day. Sure, there have been a few moments of irritation, but always held in check.
Today was the performance of Firstborn's preschool Winter program, and as preschool programs go, it was what you'd expect. It was fortunate that I wore my roomy sweater, because this mama was puffed up with quite the load of pride for her son. And, who wouldn't have been? They sang songs, practiced their rhythm using tamborines, they donned headdresses, and even exhibited their knowledge of those imposing black keys on the piano. Hubby and I couldn't be happier with the school that he's attending.
Afterwards we headed to Chic-fil-A for a rare fast food outing. The kids were thrilled with the fact that not only were they getting french fries and chicken nuggets, but they were going to get their germ on by playing in the play yard. Every kid's dream and every mama's nightmare, yes, I know.
While waiting on Hubby to bring the much anticipated grub to the table, the kids were treated even more by the fact that one of the Chic-fil-A cows was greeting each and every table. Judging by the look on Firstborn's face, life for him at that exact moment just couldn't have been much better. Well, okay, the cow could have been delivering a hot fudge sundae, but still, the kid was over the moon.
And, when my kids are over the moon, well, so am I. Especially when one or more is snuggled up fast and close as he is now possibly dreaming of his morning, cows, and maybe hot fudge sundaes. Maybe he's even dreaming of his mommy with her goofiest of goofy grins plastered on face, clapping like a fool as he looked out across that stage.
Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. ~Robert Brault
Today was the performance of Firstborn's preschool Winter program, and as preschool programs go, it was what you'd expect. It was fortunate that I wore my roomy sweater, because this mama was puffed up with quite the load of pride for her son. And, who wouldn't have been? They sang songs, practiced their rhythm using tamborines, they donned headdresses, and even exhibited their knowledge of those imposing black keys on the piano. Hubby and I couldn't be happier with the school that he's attending.
Afterwards we headed to Chic-fil-A for a rare fast food outing. The kids were thrilled with the fact that not only were they getting french fries and chicken nuggets, but they were going to get their germ on by playing in the play yard. Every kid's dream and every mama's nightmare, yes, I know.
While waiting on Hubby to bring the much anticipated grub to the table, the kids were treated even more by the fact that one of the Chic-fil-A cows was greeting each and every table. Judging by the look on Firstborn's face, life for him at that exact moment just couldn't have been much better. Well, okay, the cow could have been delivering a hot fudge sundae, but still, the kid was over the moon.
And, when my kids are over the moon, well, so am I. Especially when one or more is snuggled up fast and close as he is now possibly dreaming of his morning, cows, and maybe hot fudge sundaes. Maybe he's even dreaming of his mommy with her goofiest of goofy grins plastered on face, clapping like a fool as he looked out across that stage.
Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. ~Robert Brault
Thursday, November 17, 2011
17 November KCttC
Do you ever those days where it feels as if you're spinning in place? No matter how hard you work, there's no traction to be had? Aside from Monday, I've felt as if I've had an entire week of mud flinging, mired and bogged down, wheel spinning. Whew, and boy, has it been hard to maintain a positive outlook and refrain from complaining.
So, while I'm laying it all out on the table, let me be completely honest. There was complaining. Mind you, not as much complaining as I once would have been guilty of, but there was some complaining of note. Along with that complaining went a healthy dose of shame.
The thing that made the most difference to me though was if I did bellyache about something, I immediately recognized it for what it was. I would then try to rectify the situation and find something positive about the situation and move forward.
So, while I'm by no means perfect, heaven help me, I'd have no reason to write Confessing Mommy if I were. I am working to become a more thoughtful, kind, and compassionate person. And, for now, that's a good start.
So, while I'm laying it all out on the table, let me be completely honest. There was complaining. Mind you, not as much complaining as I once would have been guilty of, but there was some complaining of note. Along with that complaining went a healthy dose of shame.
The thing that made the most difference to me though was if I did bellyache about something, I immediately recognized it for what it was. I would then try to rectify the situation and find something positive about the situation and move forward.
So, while I'm by no means perfect, heaven help me, I'd have no reason to write Confessing Mommy if I were. I am working to become a more thoughtful, kind, and compassionate person. And, for now, that's a good start.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
16 November KCttC
I know that I am completely out of order with my dates, but I'll catch the others up this weekend and right this wrong order then.
It's 9:00 P.M. and I have a crying two year old in my bed. Her brother is asleep in his bed at quite the elevated status in order for him to breathe easier tonight. It's been a long day and a hard one to maintain a positive outlook as both have colds as well as a major case of grumpy butt-itis.
But, this much I know: they're not terribly sick, they'll be fine in a few days, and we love each other deeply no matter how much the day seemed to disagree with us all.
I also know that I have a wonderfully loving, kind, and compassionate hubby who cleared the supper dishes, picked up toys from one end of the house to the other, and put our brood to bed, so I could lay down when I wasn't feeling so well.
I have a wealth of positive to focus on in my world. I am filled with joy even though the space behind my eyeballs is screaming. I am joyous.
It's 9:00 P.M. and I have a crying two year old in my bed. Her brother is asleep in his bed at quite the elevated status in order for him to breathe easier tonight. It's been a long day and a hard one to maintain a positive outlook as both have colds as well as a major case of grumpy butt-itis.
But, this much I know: they're not terribly sick, they'll be fine in a few days, and we love each other deeply no matter how much the day seemed to disagree with us all.
I also know that I have a wonderfully loving, kind, and compassionate hubby who cleared the supper dishes, picked up toys from one end of the house to the other, and put our brood to bed, so I could lay down when I wasn't feeling so well.
I have a wealth of positive to focus on in my world. I am filled with joy even though the space behind my eyeballs is screaming. I am joyous.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
10 November KCttC
Thursday at my MOPS meeting I almost got up and ran out within the first fifteen minutes. But, I stayed. I didn't want to. But, I did. There was a lady addressing our group about the death of her not quite three year old daughter. It was one of those rare tragedies in which everything just happened to fall into place at the right, or rather wrong time, leading to the premature death of a bubbly, beautiful baby girl.
As she continued to tell her story it became harder and harder for me not to run as fast as my feet could take me back home to my babies. It was brutal to listen to the devastating details of the four and a half week long hospital duration and the decision to remove life support. All I could do was hold back tears and wish myself away into the arms of my sweet, beautiful babes.
My intense desire to be clutching my children closely was beginning to be replaced by some unknown feeling, though. And, I didn't care for it all. It was shame.
My cheeks flushed hot with the embarrassment of realizing how selfish I truly was at that moment. I should have been feeling overwhelming compassion for this woman, who was still deeply grieving four years later. Yet, all I thought about was leaving a discussion that made me extremely uncomfortable, and configuring escape routes that would get me to my own children the quickest. I was a weak woman that night.
While I don't know how to turn my initial reaction into something less shameful and positive, I do know that what I felt was most likely quite natural. I imagine I wasn't the only mama there that night aching to hold her child to breast and shower with kisses. Somehow, being painfully reminded that life is temporary, fleeting at best, does that to a mama. We love fiercely. We can't not love fiercely. Sure, the umbilical cord is cut at birth, but there's a binding far stronger than that cord that can never be severed. I know. I saw a mama fiercely bound tight to her babe even in death. And, I am now a stronger, better mama for having heard her story.
As she continued to tell her story it became harder and harder for me not to run as fast as my feet could take me back home to my babies. It was brutal to listen to the devastating details of the four and a half week long hospital duration and the decision to remove life support. All I could do was hold back tears and wish myself away into the arms of my sweet, beautiful babes.
My intense desire to be clutching my children closely was beginning to be replaced by some unknown feeling, though. And, I didn't care for it all. It was shame.
My cheeks flushed hot with the embarrassment of realizing how selfish I truly was at that moment. I should have been feeling overwhelming compassion for this woman, who was still deeply grieving four years later. Yet, all I thought about was leaving a discussion that made me extremely uncomfortable, and configuring escape routes that would get me to my own children the quickest. I was a weak woman that night.
While I don't know how to turn my initial reaction into something less shameful and positive, I do know that what I felt was most likely quite natural. I imagine I wasn't the only mama there that night aching to hold her child to breast and shower with kisses. Somehow, being painfully reminded that life is temporary, fleeting at best, does that to a mama. We love fiercely. We can't not love fiercely. Sure, the umbilical cord is cut at birth, but there's a binding far stronger than that cord that can never be severed. I know. I saw a mama fiercely bound tight to her babe even in death. And, I am now a stronger, better mama for having heard her story.
9 November KCttC
Wow. Wednesday was an especially difficult day to maintain a positive outlook. I woke early that morning to find myself sick with another flare up. And, pretty it was not. Fortunately, I had medication to combat the flare up. Unfortunately, the medication tends to make me extremely dizzy. We're talking dizzy to the point of not being able to stand, much less drive.
Instead of letting this flare up and the medication get the best of me, I turned this situation around by throwing a pajama party. Firstborn had been bummed when he realized I wouldn't be able to drive him to school. But, he quickly perked up at the mention of snuggling in bed watching cartoons, playing games, coloring, and reading books.
The pajama party cloaked what could have been a really bad day under the guise of playing hooky from school and doing the un-normal. The pajama party saved me. My positive attitude, while not at its best, was somewhat salvaged. And, while I would much rather have avoided the flare up altogether, it afforded me some much needed snuggle time with my two favorite wild things.
Instead of letting this flare up and the medication get the best of me, I turned this situation around by throwing a pajama party. Firstborn had been bummed when he realized I wouldn't be able to drive him to school. But, he quickly perked up at the mention of snuggling in bed watching cartoons, playing games, coloring, and reading books.
The pajama party cloaked what could have been a really bad day under the guise of playing hooky from school and doing the un-normal. The pajama party saved me. My positive attitude, while not at its best, was somewhat salvaged. And, while I would much rather have avoided the flare up altogether, it afforded me some much needed snuggle time with my two favorite wild things.
8 November KCttC
Tuesday I had the extreme pleasure of joining Firstborn at his school for a Mommy, Me, and muffins morning. It was such a treat to see the pride beaming from his sweet face as I perched precariously on the tiniest of tiny preschool chairs next to his. Along with our muffins and juice, we shared giggle after giggle as we talked with his mates and their moms. It warmed and filled my heart to overflowing spending that precious time with him.
I rarely have one on one time with him anymore. It isn't by design. It's by life and circumstance. I went a few rounds of mentally beating myself up over forgetting that this special boy needed special designated time. That's when it dawned on me that beating myself up over something that I'm sure has happened to even the best of parents, was just as bad as a negative outlook and complaining. In fact, it's far worse. How can I maintain a positive outlook when I'm constantly pummeling myself for personal mistakes? The answer is I can't.
So, for Tuesday's Kicking Complaining to the Curb I learned a lesson that I am constantly having to relearn it seems. I learned I must let it go. Let it go and do better. And, that's exactly what we'll be doing this afternoon. We'll be doing better with some special mommy and me time in the kitchen while Secondborn is napping.
I rarely have one on one time with him anymore. It isn't by design. It's by life and circumstance. I went a few rounds of mentally beating myself up over forgetting that this special boy needed special designated time. That's when it dawned on me that beating myself up over something that I'm sure has happened to even the best of parents, was just as bad as a negative outlook and complaining. In fact, it's far worse. How can I maintain a positive outlook when I'm constantly pummeling myself for personal mistakes? The answer is I can't.
So, for Tuesday's Kicking Complaining to the Curb I learned a lesson that I am constantly having to relearn it seems. I learned I must let it go. Let it go and do better. And, that's exactly what we'll be doing this afternoon. We'll be doing better with some special mommy and me time in the kitchen while Secondborn is napping.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
7 November Kicking Complaining to the Curb
Monday was not an easy day for Secondborn. She cried, whined, whimpered, and screamed for what seemed to be hours at a time. At first I was slightly frustrated with the situation because I was in Mommy work mode. I had loads of laundry to tackle, bathrooms to clean, floors to sweep and mop, take Firstborn to and from school, and somewhere in all of that make a sweet potato bread pudding for my Canning Confessions page.
I quickly realized that there was more to the situation than just an irate toddler when she insisted on being in my lap, arms, or attached to my leg as I would try to accomplish any of my tasks. Secondborn being the adventurous, spunky, and free spirited child she is, cannot stand to be contained. Any time she refuses to vacate my lap and is whiny, is a good indicator that she's not feeling well. Since she was not displaying any of the visual symptoms of a cold or a fever I assumed that it might be her two year molars causing her grief.
We've long suspected she was cutting those pesky molars since our move in April, but they never broke the skin. There were a few other times over the summer when we once more thought this, but again, they never broke the skin. Our pediatrician informed us that hers might just be slow in coming down and whenever they move a little further down is when she's getting cranky, slight fevers, and a runny nappy. At her last visit he remarked that they were getting a lot closer to breaking the skin. So, there might be some relief in sight soon.
I tried not to have a negative spirit or complaining nature that day, but I must admit it was difficult. As we cuddled on the couch it was frustrating to feel the weight of housework burdening my positive outlook. Very little of my Mommy work mode list was checked off. And, checking things off my lists ranks pretty high on my, well, my list of things I love to do.
I'm not so sure that day seven should be counted as a win, but it played an important step towards my month long goal of kicking complaining to the curb. And, maybe that makes it a win after all.
I quickly realized that there was more to the situation than just an irate toddler when she insisted on being in my lap, arms, or attached to my leg as I would try to accomplish any of my tasks. Secondborn being the adventurous, spunky, and free spirited child she is, cannot stand to be contained. Any time she refuses to vacate my lap and is whiny, is a good indicator that she's not feeling well. Since she was not displaying any of the visual symptoms of a cold or a fever I assumed that it might be her two year molars causing her grief.
We've long suspected she was cutting those pesky molars since our move in April, but they never broke the skin. There were a few other times over the summer when we once more thought this, but again, they never broke the skin. Our pediatrician informed us that hers might just be slow in coming down and whenever they move a little further down is when she's getting cranky, slight fevers, and a runny nappy. At her last visit he remarked that they were getting a lot closer to breaking the skin. So, there might be some relief in sight soon.
I tried not to have a negative spirit or complaining nature that day, but I must admit it was difficult. As we cuddled on the couch it was frustrating to feel the weight of housework burdening my positive outlook. Very little of my Mommy work mode list was checked off. And, checking things off my lists ranks pretty high on my, well, my list of things I love to do.
I'm not so sure that day seven should be counted as a win, but it played an important step towards my month long goal of kicking complaining to the curb. And, maybe that makes it a win after all.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
6 November KCttC
Ordinarily when I'm in the kitchen working on something that I plan to post about I like to be by myself. After working in restaurants, bars, and corner delis for quite some time I am accustomed to working at a rather rapid pace. A pace that tends to plow over anyone in my path who does not heed my warnings of, "behind you" or, "on your left".
I love having the kitchen to myself. That's my time. It's when I am most relaxed working at a frenzied pace that blocks out the rest of the world for a bit. But, it's also a time I'm learning to share. And, that's how I turned my sixth day of Kicking Complaining to the Curb around.
Secondborn was napping, and Firstborn was making it quite clear he was not. So, I invited him to help me in the kitchen. And, for that I was greatly rewarded.
I have a FaceBook page for my Canning Confessions site, and one of my "likers" sent me a link to this fabulous child friendly knife. I cannot say enough good things about these knives. Yes, that was plural. Please, we can't buy just one of anything in this house. Secondborn would never stand for that. Oh, you're concerned that I allow my two year old to handle a knife? I can understand that. But, both Hubby and I are big advocates for learning knife skills at an early age. It's those that have no knife skills or respect for the knife that end up with injuries.
And, yes he was wearing his pajamas. It was Sunday and that's what he does. After we come home from church he changes his clothes and always insists on putting on his pajamas.
He and I chopped onions, carrots, celery, and apples. We discussed different aspects of the veggies, how we were going to use them, and other uses. At one point he became quite concerned about my tears from the onion. He sweetly offered to "be a good boy" and not make me cry. I'm still not sure that he grasps the concept of the crying onions.
We had such a great time, and were laughing so loudly we woke Secondborn. But, that was fine by us. She was more than ready to practice her knife skills as well.
I will still crave time to myself in the kitchen, but I will make much more time for the natives now.
Those who wish to sing, always find a song. ~Swedish Proverb
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I love having the kitchen to myself. That's my time. It's when I am most relaxed working at a frenzied pace that blocks out the rest of the world for a bit. But, it's also a time I'm learning to share. And, that's how I turned my sixth day of Kicking Complaining to the Curb around.
Secondborn was napping, and Firstborn was making it quite clear he was not. So, I invited him to help me in the kitchen. And, for that I was greatly rewarded.
I have a FaceBook page for my Canning Confessions site, and one of my "likers" sent me a link to this fabulous child friendly knife. I cannot say enough good things about these knives. Yes, that was plural. Please, we can't buy just one of anything in this house. Secondborn would never stand for that. Oh, you're concerned that I allow my two year old to handle a knife? I can understand that. But, both Hubby and I are big advocates for learning knife skills at an early age. It's those that have no knife skills or respect for the knife that end up with injuries.
And, yes he was wearing his pajamas. It was Sunday and that's what he does. After we come home from church he changes his clothes and always insists on putting on his pajamas.
He and I chopped onions, carrots, celery, and apples. We discussed different aspects of the veggies, how we were going to use them, and other uses. At one point he became quite concerned about my tears from the onion. He sweetly offered to "be a good boy" and not make me cry. I'm still not sure that he grasps the concept of the crying onions.
We had such a great time, and were laughing so loudly we woke Secondborn. But, that was fine by us. She was more than ready to practice her knife skills as well.
I will still crave time to myself in the kitchen, but I will make much more time for the natives now.
Those who wish to sing, always find a song. ~Swedish Proverb
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Saturday, November 5, 2011
5 November KCttC
I've worked hard this week catching up on errands, doctors' appointments, and never ending housework. By the time I pulled the last jar of chili out of the pressure canner last night at 11:30 I was pooped. It was somewhere around baking the fourth loaf of bread yesterday afternoon that I gave myself permission to relax today. And, that is exactly what I've done.
I tried to sleep late, but sometime in the middle of the night Firstborn snuck into our bed. That's pretty much an every night occurrence. We snuggled up and off to sleepy town we both went. Then, 6:30 this morning brought Secondborn into our bed.
I love when she wakes in the morning. She's happy and lovely. It's almost as if she hasn't realized yet that she's more than capable of throwing hissy fits as means of warfare.
She snuggled into bed with me and back to sleepy town I went.....for all of three minutes. It seems Secondborn was up and open for business, as they say. She was in and out of the bed every six minutes with some new and louder toy each time. Sure, I dozed here and there, but it was at my own risk. I cannot tell you how many times she accidentally clocked me in the head with some three pound, hard as a rock toy. Hubby finally gave up and got up around 8:00 and we all followed suit.
We lounged this morning in our pjs and watched loads of cartoons. We colored and played. We played outside and discarded our rotting jackolanterns. And, by nap time, we were all ready. None more ready than myself, for I had a plan.
I had made a stuffed dolly for Secondborn this past Spring before moving. I never finished embroidering the face or installing but a few strands of hair.
She's no looker, as my dad put it when he first laid eyes on her. This being my first stuffed doll in at least fifteen years makes that tolerable to hear. You factor in the that the doll looks as if she has a perpetual case of chicken pox and you really begin to get a better understanding.
While shopping for fabric I found a flannel, white with pink polka dots and an aqua flannel that had adorably colored birds to use. I love polka dots. And, that was exactly what I was thinking when I brought the fabric home. Not once did it occur to me until stitching arm and leg seams together that this doll would look afflicted in some horrible way.
After piecing the dolly together and stuffing her, she was packed away until just this week when Secondborn found her digging through one of my tubs of fabrics. And, since that moment the dolly and Secondborn have been the best of friends. I knew it was time to finish the process. And, today was the day to do it.
I removed what few strands of yarn for hair there were and began to embroider the face. Mind you, this was a fairly impulsive decision that today would the day that dolly would get a makeover so my choices in embroidery floss were limited to a bright pink, corn yellow, and a brown. I've not embroidered since high school, and it showed. Fortunately, this didn't concern me, and I was certain that as long as Secondborn could distinguish all the facial parts then she wouldn't be concerned either.
I decided to sew her hair in the Waldorf doll fashion and proceeded to ready my sewing machine. Do you have any idea how hard it is to wind a bobbin properly when your cat is trying to eat your thread? He's just lucky he didn't get his whiskers sewn together.
It took me all afternoon to do all the different seamings of hair installations. And, I enjoyed every minute of it. Yes, I have the attention span of a gad fly, and yes I found myself wanting to get up and wander around the house or surf FaceBook, but I stuck with it. And, while she's still no looker, she's better looking than what she was. And, Secondborn loves her even more. The look on her face upon presentation said it all.
Oh, there's a lot of negative that could be said about this blemished, lumpy doll, but, best you do it out of earshot. I'm all smiles over Dotty. Well, what else could we name her?
(Forgive the quality of the pictures. They were taken with my phone and the latter had little in the way of lighting.)
Affectation is a greater enemy to the face than smallpox. ~English Proverb
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I tried to sleep late, but sometime in the middle of the night Firstborn snuck into our bed. That's pretty much an every night occurrence. We snuggled up and off to sleepy town we both went. Then, 6:30 this morning brought Secondborn into our bed.
I love when she wakes in the morning. She's happy and lovely. It's almost as if she hasn't realized yet that she's more than capable of throwing hissy fits as means of warfare.
She snuggled into bed with me and back to sleepy town I went.....for all of three minutes. It seems Secondborn was up and open for business, as they say. She was in and out of the bed every six minutes with some new and louder toy each time. Sure, I dozed here and there, but it was at my own risk. I cannot tell you how many times she accidentally clocked me in the head with some three pound, hard as a rock toy. Hubby finally gave up and got up around 8:00 and we all followed suit.
We lounged this morning in our pjs and watched loads of cartoons. We colored and played. We played outside and discarded our rotting jackolanterns. And, by nap time, we were all ready. None more ready than myself, for I had a plan.
I had made a stuffed dolly for Secondborn this past Spring before moving. I never finished embroidering the face or installing but a few strands of hair.
She's no looker, as my dad put it when he first laid eyes on her. This being my first stuffed doll in at least fifteen years makes that tolerable to hear. You factor in the that the doll looks as if she has a perpetual case of chicken pox and you really begin to get a better understanding.
While shopping for fabric I found a flannel, white with pink polka dots and an aqua flannel that had adorably colored birds to use. I love polka dots. And, that was exactly what I was thinking when I brought the fabric home. Not once did it occur to me until stitching arm and leg seams together that this doll would look afflicted in some horrible way.
After piecing the dolly together and stuffing her, she was packed away until just this week when Secondborn found her digging through one of my tubs of fabrics. And, since that moment the dolly and Secondborn have been the best of friends. I knew it was time to finish the process. And, today was the day to do it.
I removed what few strands of yarn for hair there were and began to embroider the face. Mind you, this was a fairly impulsive decision that today would the day that dolly would get a makeover so my choices in embroidery floss were limited to a bright pink, corn yellow, and a brown. I've not embroidered since high school, and it showed. Fortunately, this didn't concern me, and I was certain that as long as Secondborn could distinguish all the facial parts then she wouldn't be concerned either.
I decided to sew her hair in the Waldorf doll fashion and proceeded to ready my sewing machine. Do you have any idea how hard it is to wind a bobbin properly when your cat is trying to eat your thread? He's just lucky he didn't get his whiskers sewn together.
It took me all afternoon to do all the different seamings of hair installations. And, I enjoyed every minute of it. Yes, I have the attention span of a gad fly, and yes I found myself wanting to get up and wander around the house or surf FaceBook, but I stuck with it. And, while she's still no looker, she's better looking than what she was. And, Secondborn loves her even more. The look on her face upon presentation said it all.
Oh, there's a lot of negative that could be said about this blemished, lumpy doll, but, best you do it out of earshot. I'm all smiles over Dotty. Well, what else could we name her?
(Forgive the quality of the pictures. They were taken with my phone and the latter had little in the way of lighting.)
Affectation is a greater enemy to the face than smallpox. ~English Proverb
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Friday, November 4, 2011
4 November KCttC
There was a time I loved going to the grocery store. It was like a game to me. I prepared for my shopping trips by making lists, comparing prices to different stores, matching sales to coupons, and always making sure both kids were well fed and rested before entering the store. But, a lot of things have changed. My go to market has changed their coupon policy, I don't have nearly the time I once did to commit to my coupons and match ups, the natives are older and much more active no matter how well fed or rested they are before we go, but the biggest problem is the constant rise in prices and our decreased food budget.
While trying to pay off our moving expenses we have decreased our weekly grocery budget. And, while frustrating, it isn't impossible. That is to say if prices were to stay the same. The problem, however, is that prices are noticeably higher each week. I know some of you must think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. Because we are on such a restrictive budget I document each trip the prices of what I'm placing into our cart. This makes hitting our weekly grocery budget increasingly more difficult. And, today was no exception.
After I had both kids buckled into their seats and the groceries loaded into the back of the Mommymobile I called Hubby. And, while I did my best not to outwardly complain of the situation, the entire conversation was dripping with frustrated whining. *Ugh*, Mommy fail.
Once home my mind wandered over to a piece I've been writing for sometime about childhood hunger. I've not finished it. I have no idea where the piece is going. I just know that it has been weighing heavily upon my mind and I feel compelled, almost forced to write about it. The problem is that it's difficult for me to write about because I've never been hungry. I've never been hungry in the true since of hunger. I've never been food insecure. Oh, believe me, I've been more than insecure about the level of taste, appearance, and satisfaction about food in my life, but not once have I been food insecure.
And, with that in mind I put our groceries away with more thankfulness than I had shown in some time. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to crochet. No, today was not completely without complaint or negative thought free, but I have been filled with such a grateful spirit that I think it would be okay to add a square for today to the Grateful Granny Square project.
While trying to pay off our moving expenses we have decreased our weekly grocery budget. And, while frustrating, it isn't impossible. That is to say if prices were to stay the same. The problem, however, is that prices are noticeably higher each week. I know some of you must think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. Because we are on such a restrictive budget I document each trip the prices of what I'm placing into our cart. This makes hitting our weekly grocery budget increasingly more difficult. And, today was no exception.
After I had both kids buckled into their seats and the groceries loaded into the back of the Mommymobile I called Hubby. And, while I did my best not to outwardly complain of the situation, the entire conversation was dripping with frustrated whining. *Ugh*, Mommy fail.
Once home my mind wandered over to a piece I've been writing for sometime about childhood hunger. I've not finished it. I have no idea where the piece is going. I just know that it has been weighing heavily upon my mind and I feel compelled, almost forced to write about it. The problem is that it's difficult for me to write about because I've never been hungry. I've never been hungry in the true since of hunger. I've never been food insecure. Oh, believe me, I've been more than insecure about the level of taste, appearance, and satisfaction about food in my life, but not once have I been food insecure.
And, with that in mind I put our groceries away with more thankfulness than I had shown in some time. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to crochet. No, today was not completely without complaint or negative thought free, but I have been filled with such a grateful spirit that I think it would be okay to add a square for today to the Grateful Granny Square project.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
3 November of KCttC
Secondborn has been showing all the signs that she's beginning to give up nap time. Some days it takes over an hour for her to fall asleep. And, this usually involves me sitting on the floor outside her bedroom watching her every move.
There were days that I was getting really frustrated about the situation. After all, doesn't she know that nap time is Mommy time? Who did she think she was being awake in the allotted slot of time that I used to get things done? I was getting seriously bummed. Along with that serious bum I was doing some serious whining.
One day last week after exhausting every trick I knew and myself, yet was still facing a wide eyed, definitely non exhausted daughter, I laid down on the couch with her. It didn't take long till we both fell asleep. And, it was delicious. I thoroughly enjoyed that delicious nap with my baby girl, who is quickly loosing all aspects of being a baby.
Each and every day I see a little less of that baby that I reached down to greet nearly two and a half years ago. And, while I'm thrilled to watch her grow into this independent, feisty, and fearless little girl, I'm saddened to watch her babyhood melt away.
For the next few days after that delicious nap, I couldn't shake the sad little ache in my heart as I was coming to terms that Secondborn wasn't a baby anymore and she wasn't quite a little girl, either.
That's when I decided that more of those delicious naps were in order. There were a few days I freaked out when I would realize that was precious housework time. But, the more afternoons we spent together snuggled on that couch, the less the housework seemed to matter. In the past I wouldn't have been able to even entertain the idea of napping while she napped for fear of wasting time. But, not anymore. And, that's how I ended up mopping my house at 9:30 tonight. The housework got done much later than what I would like. But, the trade off was far superior.
To be upset over what you don't have is to waste what you do have. ~Ken S. Keyes, Jr.
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There were days that I was getting really frustrated about the situation. After all, doesn't she know that nap time is Mommy time? Who did she think she was being awake in the allotted slot of time that I used to get things done? I was getting seriously bummed. Along with that serious bum I was doing some serious whining.
One day last week after exhausting every trick I knew and myself, yet was still facing a wide eyed, definitely non exhausted daughter, I laid down on the couch with her. It didn't take long till we both fell asleep. And, it was delicious. I thoroughly enjoyed that delicious nap with my baby girl, who is quickly loosing all aspects of being a baby.
Each and every day I see a little less of that baby that I reached down to greet nearly two and a half years ago. And, while I'm thrilled to watch her grow into this independent, feisty, and fearless little girl, I'm saddened to watch her babyhood melt away.
For the next few days after that delicious nap, I couldn't shake the sad little ache in my heart as I was coming to terms that Secondborn wasn't a baby anymore and she wasn't quite a little girl, either.
That's when I decided that more of those delicious naps were in order. There were a few days I freaked out when I would realize that was precious housework time. But, the more afternoons we spent together snuggled on that couch, the less the housework seemed to matter. In the past I wouldn't have been able to even entertain the idea of napping while she napped for fear of wasting time. But, not anymore. And, that's how I ended up mopping my house at 9:30 tonight. The housework got done much later than what I would like. But, the trade off was far superior.
To be upset over what you don't have is to waste what you do have. ~Ken S. Keyes, Jr.
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2 November of KCttC
My friend Kelly over at Sleeping Kelly often refers to that time of evening when the children become possessed by poltergeist, supper hasn't began to take shape yet, and mama's getting a bit frayed around the edges as the Whining Hour. She says when the kids start to whine that's when it's time to pour the wine.
And, while I had no wine to pour yesterday evening, if ever there were a time for it, it was then. Fortunately, I had a secret weapon in my Mommy's Turn the 'tude 'round Dance Party Secret Weapon Playlist.
My laptop is always open for business in the kitchen making it quite useful in my arsenal of tricks to turn the 'tudes around when my tribe of natives gets a bad case of the grumpy butts.
Yesterday I started the party with Lawrence Welk's "Baby Elephant Walk". I always go right for the silly to get 'em started.
We covered ELO (Don't Bring Me Down), Merle Haggard (Mama Tried - that was more a reminder for me), Willie and Waylon with Good Hearted Woman, The Highway Men with Mamas (Don't Let your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys), Dion and the Belmonts (The Wanderer), and finished up with At the Hop.
The little boogers couldn't help themselves. The more we danced, the faster their cases of grumpy butts just melted away. It's true. Music soothes the savage beasts.
Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference. ~Winston Churchill
And, while I had no wine to pour yesterday evening, if ever there were a time for it, it was then. Fortunately, I had a secret weapon in my Mommy's Turn the 'tude 'round Dance Party Secret Weapon Playlist.
My laptop is always open for business in the kitchen making it quite useful in my arsenal of tricks to turn the 'tudes around when my tribe of natives gets a bad case of the grumpy butts.
Yesterday I started the party with Lawrence Welk's "Baby Elephant Walk". I always go right for the silly to get 'em started.
We covered ELO (Don't Bring Me Down), Merle Haggard (Mama Tried - that was more a reminder for me), Willie and Waylon with Good Hearted Woman, The Highway Men with Mamas (Don't Let your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys), Dion and the Belmonts (The Wanderer), and finished up with At the Hop.
The little boogers couldn't help themselves. The more we danced, the faster their cases of grumpy butts just melted away. It's true. Music soothes the savage beasts.
Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference. ~Winston Churchill
1 November of KCttC
Since I've started this three days into the month I'm going to go back and retro-blog for those missed days.
Since I didn't know I would be starting this on Tuesday, I was full of complaints, especially since I was having an IBD flare up. And, while I can't correct what I did that day, I can look back and be grateful that I had such an understanding husband who was willing to take off work, if need be, and work from home to help out. Fortunately, my medication took effect and I was able to resume something of a normal day by lunch time. I was even able to go have my hair cut for the first time since moving from Alabama.
And, I must be absolutely honest here. I have no complaints whatsoever regarding the cut and color I received from my new salon, Jump, Jive, and Wail. Laura was a lot of fun to work with, professional, and understood exactly what I wanted. So, yea for happy hair!
Even though I'm just embarking upon this journey, I already feel more content. I feel the once lighter, brighter Mommy shedding the bog of life. Or, maybe it was just going back to the pixie cut.....time will tell, though.
Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats. ~Voltaire
Since I didn't know I would be starting this on Tuesday, I was full of complaints, especially since I was having an IBD flare up. And, while I can't correct what I did that day, I can look back and be grateful that I had such an understanding husband who was willing to take off work, if need be, and work from home to help out. Fortunately, my medication took effect and I was able to resume something of a normal day by lunch time. I was even able to go have my hair cut for the first time since moving from Alabama.
And, I must be absolutely honest here. I have no complaints whatsoever regarding the cut and color I received from my new salon, Jump, Jive, and Wail. Laura was a lot of fun to work with, professional, and understood exactly what I wanted. So, yea for happy hair!
Even though I'm just embarking upon this journey, I already feel more content. I feel the once lighter, brighter Mommy shedding the bog of life. Or, maybe it was just going back to the pixie cut.....time will tell, though.
Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats. ~Voltaire
Kicking Complaining to the Curb
It's November and and thanksgiving isn't just a Thursday with a turkey and football. People are gearing up not only for the Thanksgiving holiday, but are also donning that festive spirit for the following holiday, Christmas. They take time to count their blessings more so than most any other time of the year. They stop to help their neighbors. They become more generous with their gifts, money, and good cheer.
The past few days I've noticed a number of people listing daily something they're thankful for on FaceBook. I think that's great. But, I tend to buck trends and have shied away from it. Yes, I'm that weirdo. But, that's another story for another day.
This morning my friend Amanda and I were talking, as we do most every morning as she drives into work, and she mentioned about how she'd been reading a blog about 365 days of gratefullness. The blogger had already completed 365 days of thankfulness and was now using the opportunity to be complaint free for one month.
This intrigued me. The more we talked about it the more I was convinced that this was something I wanted to be a part of. Amanda said it would help her to have me on board, and I would certainly benefit from having her on board. We talked of ways in which we could turn the negative into the positive. We discussed how we could spin the bad and the ugly not into a gilded lie, but spin it around to look at from a different angle. We discussed how Secondborn, who was in the process of throwing (1) a sippy cup, (2) a flashlight and (3) her daddy's new book at me, wasn't just pushing boundaries, but that she was displaying she was right on track for normal growth development. I did have to admit though, that she wasn't just normal in that department, but maybe above average.
Amanda even had the brillant idea that at the end of the day I could crochet one square to symbolize a day free of complaint, a day of gratitude and peace. I took that a step further and named it the Grateful Granny Square project. And, at the end of the month I could piece all the squares together for a cozy afghan.
Now, I'm not sure I can manage to do it every night, but the intent is there and we'll see where it goes. But, I hope to be checking back daily and sharing with you some ways of which I could turn a complaint into a realization of the positive. I've always been something of a bubbly character, but I've let life bog me down of late. It's time to shed the negative, find the light, and chase after it. Who knows where it will lead? Besides "a positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort." ~Herm Albright
And, I do so enjoying annoying grumpy butts.
The past few days I've noticed a number of people listing daily something they're thankful for on FaceBook. I think that's great. But, I tend to buck trends and have shied away from it. Yes, I'm that weirdo. But, that's another story for another day.
This morning my friend Amanda and I were talking, as we do most every morning as she drives into work, and she mentioned about how she'd been reading a blog about 365 days of gratefullness. The blogger had already completed 365 days of thankfulness and was now using the opportunity to be complaint free for one month.
This intrigued me. The more we talked about it the more I was convinced that this was something I wanted to be a part of. Amanda said it would help her to have me on board, and I would certainly benefit from having her on board. We talked of ways in which we could turn the negative into the positive. We discussed how we could spin the bad and the ugly not into a gilded lie, but spin it around to look at from a different angle. We discussed how Secondborn, who was in the process of throwing (1) a sippy cup, (2) a flashlight and (3) her daddy's new book at me, wasn't just pushing boundaries, but that she was displaying she was right on track for normal growth development. I did have to admit though, that she wasn't just normal in that department, but maybe above average.
Amanda even had the brillant idea that at the end of the day I could crochet one square to symbolize a day free of complaint, a day of gratitude and peace. I took that a step further and named it the Grateful Granny Square project. And, at the end of the month I could piece all the squares together for a cozy afghan.
Now, I'm not sure I can manage to do it every night, but the intent is there and we'll see where it goes. But, I hope to be checking back daily and sharing with you some ways of which I could turn a complaint into a realization of the positive. I've always been something of a bubbly character, but I've let life bog me down of late. It's time to shed the negative, find the light, and chase after it. Who knows where it will lead? Besides "a positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort." ~Herm Albright
And, I do so enjoying annoying grumpy butts.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Boogers As Wall Art
There's a booger on my wall. There. I said it. It's been there maybe five days now. Seven tops. But, who's counting? And, another valid question that should be asked is why haven't I done anything about it?
Secondborn approached me last week in a great deal of excitement. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled, "Woom, Mommy! Come see! Boober, Mommy! Boober! Come see!"
And, that's where I was greeted by the biggest booger ever. EVER. The biggest booger EVER was smeared across her bedroom wall. It was like an art installation, except it was not my idea of art.
Every fiber of my being was repulsed. I quickly scanned Secondborn's bedroom for a box of baby wipes only to be sadly disappointed.
What I did spy was the biggest, proudest smile on my baby girl's face. She was genuinely impressed with herself and her mucus. What's more, she expected the same from me. She was doing the tip toe dancing in place, all the while pointing and giggling at the wall.
What could I do? If I removed the offensive booger in front of her, she'd be crushed. There's a good chance I would damage her fragile psyche and send her through years of therapy. *ugh* Clearly I am not that mommy.
So, I ask again. What could I do?
I left it there while I did the tip toe dancing in place with my daughter accompanied by lots of giggling. Clearly I'm the kind of mommy that can ignore a booger the size of a VW Beetle if it brings my daughter joy. I'm just not so sure what that really says about me at all.
Secondborn approached me last week in a great deal of excitement. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled, "Woom, Mommy! Come see! Boober, Mommy! Boober! Come see!"
And, that's where I was greeted by the biggest booger ever. EVER. The biggest booger EVER was smeared across her bedroom wall. It was like an art installation, except it was not my idea of art.
Every fiber of my being was repulsed. I quickly scanned Secondborn's bedroom for a box of baby wipes only to be sadly disappointed.
What I did spy was the biggest, proudest smile on my baby girl's face. She was genuinely impressed with herself and her mucus. What's more, she expected the same from me. She was doing the tip toe dancing in place, all the while pointing and giggling at the wall.
What could I do? If I removed the offensive booger in front of her, she'd be crushed. There's a good chance I would damage her fragile psyche and send her through years of therapy. *ugh* Clearly I am not that mommy.
So, I ask again. What could I do?
I left it there while I did the tip toe dancing in place with my daughter accompanied by lots of giggling. Clearly I'm the kind of mommy that can ignore a booger the size of a VW Beetle if it brings my daughter joy. I'm just not so sure what that really says about me at all.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Who Says Mommy's Lost Her Marbles?
Who says Mommy's lost her marbles? I know exactly where they are. That can't be said about just anyone, you know.
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Thursday, September 29, 2011
The House Of Ill Re-Poop, I AM MOMMY
I live in the house of ill re-poop. And, no, I did not get the saying wrong. Within less than a week my tribe has had a nasty sinus infection, stomach virus, kidney stone, and a mutated stomach virus. I've been covered in poop, puke, and pee. I feel like a human Kleenex, or worse, a CSI case work load.
First and Secondborn have both been on Zyrtec for allergies for ten days. Unfortunately, Firstborn still developed a sinus infection. After a trip to the pedi for antibiotics we arrived home later that afternoon to a yurping Secondborn. Right after supper she sweetly sashed up to me while pointing at her mouth and repeated "poop" numerous times.
"Poop?" Why wasn't the kid pointing to her hiney then? Still, she persisted with the vigorous pointing and repetition. Since I was too daft to figure out what she was getting out, she threw me a bone and yurped all over me, the kitchen floor, and the garbage can, surprisingly not in the garbage can though. She's two. She gets a pass this time.
She continued yurping all the way to bathroom as Hubby led her for a much needed bath while I was on cleaning detail. I was summoned to the bathroom within minutes to be informed that there was indeed a code poopey. Awesome. Poor kid had it coming out both ends.
What? Too much? You read the title of this post. You had to know this was coming. Let me give it to you straight. It ain't gonna get any prettier. So, maybe you might want to take your kids that never puke, pee, or poop rainbow colors to the playground for ice cream while I continue on with our bodily fluid filled week in review.
Have you ever been around a two year old that has a case of the tummy yuck? It's sad. The little buggers have no idea why their body is declaring mutiny. Can you imagine what must be going through their minds? My niece woke yurping one morning and told her mom that she'd pooped all over her arms. That must have been what Secondborn thought was going down. Each and every time my sweet baby girl yurped she would have a complete come apart resulting in an immediate and dire need to be consoled within my arms......often prematurely before the yurping had ended. Being her mommy I obliged.
Firstborn threw up a time or two throughout the week. However, his was from sinus drainage. There have been several times I had the chapter from Rick Bragg's, All Over But The Shouting running through my mind where it detailed him suffocating on snot and his daddy had to shove a fistful of salt down his throat forcing vomiting. My baby boy has choked and coughed all week long on this demon drainage. It frightens me, to be honest. The sound of him sucking it back to make room for oxygen is frustrating not only for me but so much more for him, and rightly so.
This morning we woke with that glimmer of fool's gold in our eyes as we'd made it a full twelve hours without anyone upchucking. Sure, Hubby had a slight sore throat and a more pressing back ache, but, I had made it half a day without pulling puke from mine or anyone else's hair. I had even been so brazen as to publish a sweeping declaration on Facebook that the tummy yuck had been conquered. Oh, me of little foresight. *sighs*
Secondborn came to me shortly after 9:00 this morning crying in pain while pointing to her hiney. As I approached my distraught daughter I smelled immediately the offending issue. A scene that played itself out time and time again today. My poor baby girl walked around for a better part of this day holding her hiney while crying out, "It hurtz. Mommy, it hurtz." My heart broke. My stomach turned. But, more so, my heart broke and my arms ached to make my baby feel that all would be well soon.
But, all would not be well soon. Remember Hubb's pressing back ache? It pressed harder. It also moved. Hubby confirmed that yes, he had yet, another kidney stone making its way down that pain laden path. Oh, boy.
I had Firstborn coughing big balls of wet, choking, snott up, Secondborn painfully pooping anything that wasn't substantially attached to her innards, and Hubby alternating between laying in pain on the heating pad or in the jacuzzi tub.
So much for my sweeping declaration of illness banishment. Sweet Josaphat, our household has some seriously bad juju floating around was all I could think. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, I didn't have all that much time to dwell on our past deeds that might have angered those presiding over household well being.
Secondborn was beside herself with her pooping predicament. Keep in mind, we're in the midst of potty training. Pooping her pants continually was not only painful and uncomfortable, but embarrassing and wrong in her world. Firstborn was picking fights with all that crossed his radar since he was still physically uncomfortable. And, Hubby had realized it was time to journey to the nearest E.R.
The rest of my day was spent wiping hineys, mopping floors that had been mopped too many times to count this week, making multiple runs to the market, wiping noses, holding hands, reassuring, taking slight breaks to vent to those few I trust to vent to, and contemplating purchasing large amounts of stock in Lysol.
I am Mommy. Hear me sob silently sometimes. Hear me suck it up, stuff it back down again, and soldier on. I am Mommy. And, I gladly, open armed, silently cursing, accept every mommy poop, pee, and puked covered moment of it. I am Mommy, see me glow and become all that was meant for my ill advised life as I become and not embrace, but swallow and live larger than life the life that only mommies do. I am Mommy and I live for this. I was purposed for this. I am Mommy, awww, crap, let me clean that up for you.
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First and Secondborn have both been on Zyrtec for allergies for ten days. Unfortunately, Firstborn still developed a sinus infection. After a trip to the pedi for antibiotics we arrived home later that afternoon to a yurping Secondborn. Right after supper she sweetly sashed up to me while pointing at her mouth and repeated "poop" numerous times.
"Poop?" Why wasn't the kid pointing to her hiney then? Still, she persisted with the vigorous pointing and repetition. Since I was too daft to figure out what she was getting out, she threw me a bone and yurped all over me, the kitchen floor, and the garbage can, surprisingly not in the garbage can though. She's two. She gets a pass this time.
She continued yurping all the way to bathroom as Hubby led her for a much needed bath while I was on cleaning detail. I was summoned to the bathroom within minutes to be informed that there was indeed a code poopey. Awesome. Poor kid had it coming out both ends.
What? Too much? You read the title of this post. You had to know this was coming. Let me give it to you straight. It ain't gonna get any prettier. So, maybe you might want to take your kids that never puke, pee, or poop rainbow colors to the playground for ice cream while I continue on with our bodily fluid filled week in review.
Have you ever been around a two year old that has a case of the tummy yuck? It's sad. The little buggers have no idea why their body is declaring mutiny. Can you imagine what must be going through their minds? My niece woke yurping one morning and told her mom that she'd pooped all over her arms. That must have been what Secondborn thought was going down. Each and every time my sweet baby girl yurped she would have a complete come apart resulting in an immediate and dire need to be consoled within my arms......often prematurely before the yurping had ended. Being her mommy I obliged.
Firstborn threw up a time or two throughout the week. However, his was from sinus drainage. There have been several times I had the chapter from Rick Bragg's, All Over But The Shouting running through my mind where it detailed him suffocating on snot and his daddy had to shove a fistful of salt down his throat forcing vomiting. My baby boy has choked and coughed all week long on this demon drainage. It frightens me, to be honest. The sound of him sucking it back to make room for oxygen is frustrating not only for me but so much more for him, and rightly so.
This morning we woke with that glimmer of fool's gold in our eyes as we'd made it a full twelve hours without anyone upchucking. Sure, Hubby had a slight sore throat and a more pressing back ache, but, I had made it half a day without pulling puke from mine or anyone else's hair. I had even been so brazen as to publish a sweeping declaration on Facebook that the tummy yuck had been conquered. Oh, me of little foresight. *sighs*
Secondborn came to me shortly after 9:00 this morning crying in pain while pointing to her hiney. As I approached my distraught daughter I smelled immediately the offending issue. A scene that played itself out time and time again today. My poor baby girl walked around for a better part of this day holding her hiney while crying out, "It hurtz. Mommy, it hurtz." My heart broke. My stomach turned. But, more so, my heart broke and my arms ached to make my baby feel that all would be well soon.
But, all would not be well soon. Remember Hubb's pressing back ache? It pressed harder. It also moved. Hubby confirmed that yes, he had yet, another kidney stone making its way down that pain laden path. Oh, boy.
I had Firstborn coughing big balls of wet, choking, snott up, Secondborn painfully pooping anything that wasn't substantially attached to her innards, and Hubby alternating between laying in pain on the heating pad or in the jacuzzi tub.
So much for my sweeping declaration of illness banishment. Sweet Josaphat, our household has some seriously bad juju floating around was all I could think. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, I didn't have all that much time to dwell on our past deeds that might have angered those presiding over household well being.
Secondborn was beside herself with her pooping predicament. Keep in mind, we're in the midst of potty training. Pooping her pants continually was not only painful and uncomfortable, but embarrassing and wrong in her world. Firstborn was picking fights with all that crossed his radar since he was still physically uncomfortable. And, Hubby had realized it was time to journey to the nearest E.R.
The rest of my day was spent wiping hineys, mopping floors that had been mopped too many times to count this week, making multiple runs to the market, wiping noses, holding hands, reassuring, taking slight breaks to vent to those few I trust to vent to, and contemplating purchasing large amounts of stock in Lysol.
I am Mommy. Hear me sob silently sometimes. Hear me suck it up, stuff it back down again, and soldier on. I am Mommy. And, I gladly, open armed, silently cursing, accept every mommy poop, pee, and puked covered moment of it. I am Mommy, see me glow and become all that was meant for my ill advised life as I become and not embrace, but swallow and live larger than life the life that only mommies do. I am Mommy and I live for this. I was purposed for this. I am Mommy, awww, crap, let me clean that up for you.
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Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Meetup.com or Stoodup.com?
Since moving to Texas in May I've had little interaction with other moms. School was out for the summer, I was busy settling us into our new digs, and it was hotter than the surface of the sun. These were just a few of the excuses I gave myself on not getting out and meeting people. But, finally, I could stand it no longer and began cruising meetup.com for groups of interest. After settling upon a group, I RSVP'ed for a meet up at the local splash pad the following morning.
My tribe of natives and I arrived promptly with a picnic lunch, buckets and water toys aplenty to share, and eager to make new friends. The park was really crowded, but I had worn my big girl panties that morning and proceeded to walk up to the first cluster of moms. I bravely introduced myself and asked if they were with the Area Local Moms' Group to Remain Nameless, you know, to protect their identities and such.
No, they replied. They were the "'09ers". A group dedicated to all babes born in '09. If I had been smart I would have said, "Oh, that's what I meant to say." After all, Secondborn is what you would consider an "'09er". But, alas, it's well proven and documented that I am not the brightest crayon in the box. And, I continued on to the next mommy cluster.
Again, I put on my friendliest, happy camper, maybe a little too eager to make new friends face, and asked, "Are you with the Area Local Moms' Group to Remain Nameless?"
And, once more I was informed that no, they were not members of said group. At this point I felt my big girl panties shrinking a size.
Firstborn was now loudly tugging on my picnic supply laden arm demanding, "Where are all my new friends, Mommy? I thought you said we were going to have friends today?"
"We're still looking, sugarbooger. Be a bit more patient, m'kay?"
And, on I continued around the length of the splash pad asking each and every mommy cluster, and there were many that hot and sunny day, if they belonged to the Area Local Moms' Group to Remain Nameless. After the fourth inquiry I had the lines from P.D. Eastman's book, Are You My Mother going through my head. And, that is what it felt like with each and every inquiry of mommy clusters. "Are you my mother's group?" Followed by strange and blank stares.
I have no idea when it began, but at some point out of my peripheral vision I noticed the women putting their hands over their mouths and begin facing inward cluster. I could only imagine what was being said.
"Oh, the poor thing."
"How humiliating."
"I would be mortified."
And, indeed I was. I asked no less than twelve mommy clusters and all gave the same answer. No, they were not my mother's group. I had to explain to Firstborn that his new friends couldn't make it that morning after all, but we were going to have a fun time anyway. And, indeed we did. A few '09ers even came up to chat, but I knew it was the sympathy chat up. I felt like a social pariah.
After our fun filled morning I left my comments in the "How was your meetup" section. I replied that we had a great time but never found the group. I tried to write it off as an, "Oh well. Maybe next time". By the end of the evening I had three different messages from the director of the group apologizing for canceling the event but not posting that it was cancelled. I felt that she was sincere in her apology and decided to give the group another shot.
Last Tuesday I took the natives to the library for story time. I had even commented on the group's calendar what I would be wearing in hopes of avoiding the splash pad stand up.
Before I go any further let me just say that our library rocks! I'm in love with the library and our story time is phenomenal! I should have realized it was super popular when there was a line to enter the library at ten till 10:00, and story time didn't even begin for another fifteen minutes.
Since no one else had posted what they were wearing I grabbed a spot on the carpet with the natives and waited for someone from the group to approach us. I was not surprised that no one ever did. And, once more left a comment in the "How was your meetup" section about having had a great time, but would have liked to have met the group.
By this time I wondered if it were my fault that I kept missing the group. Obviously, the first time was not my fault as the director had cancelled the meetup and failed to list it as cancelled. But, the second time, well, it was possibly my fault. Or, maybe it was nobody's fault given how crowded story time was.
Yet, I intended to give the group another go. That is until this morning. Firstborn stayed home today sick with a fever and we had to miss story time at the library. But, because I was trying to change my RSVP and comment why we were missing, and deal with two hungry children, one of which was running a high fever and very cranky, I accidentally marked it for Thursday instead of for today, Tuesday.
The director made the comment, "I believe you must have your dates confused." Which, I did have them mixed up. No biggie. Then I received notification for a meetup for Wednesday of next week. But, once more I was trying to put out too many fires while tending to the calendar and thought it was intended for tomorrow. So, I changed my RSVP to "no" and commented that with Firstborn being sick I wouldn't likely make it.
Immediately I received a comment on the public board from the director saying, "Laurie, read your emails more thoroughly. You've confused your dates once more."
Did I confuse two RSVPs in the same morning? You betcha.
But, I could think of a few other ways to have worded that if I were the director, and I certainly wouldn't have put it on the public board.
It's become clear to me that I don't think this group is going to be a good fit. There were several groups that caught my eye during my initial meetup.com cruising. The Misfit Moms and Tattooed, Hippy, Pirate Mammas both look promising to me. Anything is better than getting stood up twice and snarked at on a public board. Make way, Misfits, another mama heading your way.
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My tribe of natives and I arrived promptly with a picnic lunch, buckets and water toys aplenty to share, and eager to make new friends. The park was really crowded, but I had worn my big girl panties that morning and proceeded to walk up to the first cluster of moms. I bravely introduced myself and asked if they were with the Area Local Moms' Group to Remain Nameless, you know, to protect their identities and such.
No, they replied. They were the "'09ers". A group dedicated to all babes born in '09. If I had been smart I would have said, "Oh, that's what I meant to say." After all, Secondborn is what you would consider an "'09er". But, alas, it's well proven and documented that I am not the brightest crayon in the box. And, I continued on to the next mommy cluster.
Again, I put on my friendliest, happy camper, maybe a little too eager to make new friends face, and asked, "Are you with the Area Local Moms' Group to Remain Nameless?"
And, once more I was informed that no, they were not members of said group. At this point I felt my big girl panties shrinking a size.
Firstborn was now loudly tugging on my picnic supply laden arm demanding, "Where are all my new friends, Mommy? I thought you said we were going to have friends today?"
"We're still looking, sugarbooger. Be a bit more patient, m'kay?"
And, on I continued around the length of the splash pad asking each and every mommy cluster, and there were many that hot and sunny day, if they belonged to the Area Local Moms' Group to Remain Nameless. After the fourth inquiry I had the lines from P.D. Eastman's book, Are You My Mother going through my head. And, that is what it felt like with each and every inquiry of mommy clusters. "Are you my mother's group?" Followed by strange and blank stares.
I have no idea when it began, but at some point out of my peripheral vision I noticed the women putting their hands over their mouths and begin facing inward cluster. I could only imagine what was being said.
"Oh, the poor thing."
"How humiliating."
"I would be mortified."
And, indeed I was. I asked no less than twelve mommy clusters and all gave the same answer. No, they were not my mother's group. I had to explain to Firstborn that his new friends couldn't make it that morning after all, but we were going to have a fun time anyway. And, indeed we did. A few '09ers even came up to chat, but I knew it was the sympathy chat up. I felt like a social pariah.
After our fun filled morning I left my comments in the "How was your meetup" section. I replied that we had a great time but never found the group. I tried to write it off as an, "Oh well. Maybe next time". By the end of the evening I had three different messages from the director of the group apologizing for canceling the event but not posting that it was cancelled. I felt that she was sincere in her apology and decided to give the group another shot.
Last Tuesday I took the natives to the library for story time. I had even commented on the group's calendar what I would be wearing in hopes of avoiding the splash pad stand up.
Before I go any further let me just say that our library rocks! I'm in love with the library and our story time is phenomenal! I should have realized it was super popular when there was a line to enter the library at ten till 10:00, and story time didn't even begin for another fifteen minutes.
Since no one else had posted what they were wearing I grabbed a spot on the carpet with the natives and waited for someone from the group to approach us. I was not surprised that no one ever did. And, once more left a comment in the "How was your meetup" section about having had a great time, but would have liked to have met the group.
By this time I wondered if it were my fault that I kept missing the group. Obviously, the first time was not my fault as the director had cancelled the meetup and failed to list it as cancelled. But, the second time, well, it was possibly my fault. Or, maybe it was nobody's fault given how crowded story time was.
Yet, I intended to give the group another go. That is until this morning. Firstborn stayed home today sick with a fever and we had to miss story time at the library. But, because I was trying to change my RSVP and comment why we were missing, and deal with two hungry children, one of which was running a high fever and very cranky, I accidentally marked it for Thursday instead of for today, Tuesday.
The director made the comment, "I believe you must have your dates confused." Which, I did have them mixed up. No biggie. Then I received notification for a meetup for Wednesday of next week. But, once more I was trying to put out too many fires while tending to the calendar and thought it was intended for tomorrow. So, I changed my RSVP to "no" and commented that with Firstborn being sick I wouldn't likely make it.
Immediately I received a comment on the public board from the director saying, "Laurie, read your emails more thoroughly. You've confused your dates once more."
Did I confuse two RSVPs in the same morning? You betcha.
But, I could think of a few other ways to have worded that if I were the director, and I certainly wouldn't have put it on the public board.
It's become clear to me that I don't think this group is going to be a good fit. There were several groups that caught my eye during my initial meetup.com cruising. The Misfit Moms and Tattooed, Hippy, Pirate Mammas both look promising to me. Anything is better than getting stood up twice and snarked at on a public board. Make way, Misfits, another mama heading your way.
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Wednesday, July 20, 2011
You Can Lead A Toddler To Potty...And Get Them To Go
A few weeks ago I posted about my daughter treating my like a dog. Nothing's changed. She still does. Whenever she wants me to go with her to a different spot in the house she still pats her leg vigorously, all the while saying, "C'mon, Mommy. C'mon".
I think however, things have gone too far now. A few days ago as I was in the kitchen canning cherry preserves, Firstborn entered leading Secondborn by the dog's leash. They were attempting to make laps around the island until I shoed them off. After all, I had a caldron of hot, hot stuff boiling away.
Last night Firstborn led her to bed by way of leash. Now, before I go any further, no, the leash is not attached to her in any way. They each have one end in their grasp. That's all.
This morning while in the kitchen making yogurt, the pair made their way in, by way of leash, of course. Firstborn proudly informed me that he was walking Secondborn like our dog so she would go poo poo in the potty. Of course! Why had I not thought of this while potty training him two years ago? Out of the mouths of babes, right?
They rounded the island a few times and then headed off to the bathroom. And, this is what I heard:
"Okay. Now sit on your potty. Good girl! You've been walked and now it's time to poo poo. Why won't you poo poo? It's time to put your poo poo in your potty."
I was laughing so hard at Firstborn's interesting take on potty training that I thought there might be a potty visit in my near future as well. And, when I thought I couldn't laugh anymore, he came running into the kitchen with his acoustic guitar.
"Mommy! I'm going to make music so she'll go potty!" Alright, kid. Knock yourself out.
And, she did. My sugar boogers worked as a team and conquered the potty. Firstborn playing rousing rounds on his guitar to accompany Secondborn's potty party. Go Team Potty!
I'm still in disbelief that she actually peed on the potty. She had done it a few times before about a month ago, and then stopped completely. I didn't push it. I knew she'd come to it in her own time. And, while Firstborn's method was unorthodox at best, it worked. Maybe I should ask his for his help in getting Secondborn to wear clothing for longer than three minutes.
I think however, things have gone too far now. A few days ago as I was in the kitchen canning cherry preserves, Firstborn entered leading Secondborn by the dog's leash. They were attempting to make laps around the island until I shoed them off. After all, I had a caldron of hot, hot stuff boiling away.
Last night Firstborn led her to bed by way of leash. Now, before I go any further, no, the leash is not attached to her in any way. They each have one end in their grasp. That's all.
This morning while in the kitchen making yogurt, the pair made their way in, by way of leash, of course. Firstborn proudly informed me that he was walking Secondborn like our dog so she would go poo poo in the potty. Of course! Why had I not thought of this while potty training him two years ago? Out of the mouths of babes, right?
They rounded the island a few times and then headed off to the bathroom. And, this is what I heard:
"Okay. Now sit on your potty. Good girl! You've been walked and now it's time to poo poo. Why won't you poo poo? It's time to put your poo poo in your potty."
I was laughing so hard at Firstborn's interesting take on potty training that I thought there might be a potty visit in my near future as well. And, when I thought I couldn't laugh anymore, he came running into the kitchen with his acoustic guitar.
"Mommy! I'm going to make music so she'll go potty!" Alright, kid. Knock yourself out.
And, she did. My sugar boogers worked as a team and conquered the potty. Firstborn playing rousing rounds on his guitar to accompany Secondborn's potty party. Go Team Potty!
I'm still in disbelief that she actually peed on the potty. She had done it a few times before about a month ago, and then stopped completely. I didn't push it. I knew she'd come to it in her own time. And, while Firstborn's method was unorthodox at best, it worked. Maybe I should ask his for his help in getting Secondborn to wear clothing for longer than three minutes.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Job Title: Native Wrangler
Life has done it again and started rolling along pretty fast. That happens from time to time. Unfortunately, I've not been rolling along as well as I normally would. I've been having some tummy yuck for the past three weeks. And, we went out of town as well. So it's been much harder to get back on schedule this time it seems. But, I think this week has finally been the turning point.
The one area I still seem to be having a bit of difficulty with is writing. All three of my blogs seem to have been neglected slightly, and that bothers me greatly. It's not intentional. I've sat down many times to remedy the situation, but either the words don't come, or the natives need wrangling.
The latter tends to be the situation more often than not. And, that's okay. That's my first job above all else. In fact, I list it as my job title on every application I have to fill out. A librarian once gave pause to eye me with suspicion over that.
It's an exhausting job, but it's one I love. It's one I chose willingly and gladly from that very first plus sign on the pee stick. Never in my wildest dreams could I ever imagine loving this job so much. Or, loving someone so much. Sure, everyone tells you all through your pregnancies that you never knew you could love so much. And, you think, "Yes. Yes I do! I'm the one carrying this critter, not you!"
But, you really don't. You just don't. Not until that first moment Firstborn was held up over the operating curtain did I really know what was meant. And, there is not a day that I forget.
And, then all through my second pregnancy I worried over how could I possibly have enough love left to give to my second child. I didn't have that answer until I reached down to pull my daughter out and up to nurse for her very first time. While my midwife and doula tended to the rest of nature's work I felt something swelling deep inside my chest as I watched my newborn watching me. It didn't have a name, because love just didn't seem enough. No, it felt more like an all consuming need to protect, to foster a great independent spirit and wonderment of her brand new world. A pulling of my insides so strong I still felt connected to her even though I had already cut the umbilical cord.
There was great hope mixed in. And, there was magic, sparkly and electrifying magic. A magic that only presents itself during the miracle of birth. So, maybe I was wrong. Maybe, that's exactly what love is. At least that's what love of my children means to me.I have no answers as to how it all works. It just does. Maybe your heart increases in size much like the Grinch's. Again, I don't know. What I do know is there was an immeasurably void in my life before my natives turned it right side up.
So, while I am frequently frustrated that I can't find the time to write and, when I do the flow is gone, that's okay. The words will come when they're ready to. In the meanwhile, I have plenty to keep my busy. Life is like that.
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Saturday, June 11, 2011
What Did Mommy Just Say?
Mommy dreams of a day when she'll stop referring to herself in third person. She dreams of a day when she can once more return to the land of civilized conversation. Until that day those that overhear her must think her amnesiac, or a simpleton at best.
And, how could one not think that given that most of her dialogues consist of any number of the following phrases:
"Mommy said we will not use potty water to brush our teeth and wash our hair!"
"How many times has Mommy told you we DO NOT wipe our boogers on the T.V. screen?"
"Hasn't Mommy asked you not to go through her nightstand? That is a breast pump, not a trumpet."
And, the phrase that would most often leave people scratching their heads,
"What did Mommy just say?"
Because clearly, if Mommy can't remember what she just said, then surely she must be an amnesiac simpleton. Indeed.
And, how could one not think that given that most of her dialogues consist of any number of the following phrases:
"Mommy said we will not use potty water to brush our teeth and wash our hair!"
"How many times has Mommy told you we DO NOT wipe our boogers on the T.V. screen?"
"Hasn't Mommy asked you not to go through her nightstand? That is a breast pump, not a trumpet."
And, the phrase that would most often leave people scratching their heads,
"What did Mommy just say?"
Because clearly, if Mommy can't remember what she just said, then surely she must be an amnesiac simpleton. Indeed.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Secondborn Treats Me Like A Dog
Secondborn treats me like a dog. No. It's true. And, what's more, she learned it from Firstborn......who I should acknowledge learned it from me.
I guess what comes to mind first is, 'Mommy is as Mommy does'. By now I'm sure I've most of you scratching your heads. So, let me explain.
Before Firstborn and Secondborn came into my life there was another baby. A chubby, wrinkly, black baby, a pug named Lola who was the light of my life for five years before giving birth to my son. And, as so often is the case when your first babies happen to be furry and the real deal arrives, that first baby is sent to the dog house.
Lola has persevered through the years since Firstborn's birth. She has grown older with dignity and many, many pounds. She has lost much of her hearing, but never her faithfulness and devotion. She has endured many jokes regarding having chased one too many parked cars from my father, as well as silly string bombardments from my kids.
My children have closely watched my relationship with Lola just as she has closely watched mine with them. Firstborn quickly picked up on how to call her when needed. Because of her severe deafness one must first clap hands and then slap one's leg loudly while yelling, "C'mon, Lola. C'mon."
Hubby and I both got the biggest giggles when Firstborn began doing this when he was two years old. And, we really never thought much about it until recently.
I would be off somewhere else in the house when Secondborn, now almost two years old, would track me down. She would point down the hall towards her bedroom first clapping her hands, then slapping her leg loudly all the while yelling, "C'mon, Mommy. C'mon."
Somewhat taken aback at first, I tried my best to understand how this came to be. Slowly, it all came to me. This was how I called Lola. This was how Firstborn not only called Lola, but how he called Secondborn as well. And, having learned it from a most reliable source, this was how Secondborn learned to call all those of most importance to her.
Well, I suppose it could be worse. Right?
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Big News
I alluded to something in yesterday's post regarding new things unfolding. Well, having never been one who could wait for a finished product I'm going to let you in on the secret.
Remember me mentioning I've been receiving lots of messages, emails, and comments regarding canning and home preserving? My dear, sweet, hubby has been talking to me and has finally convinced me to launch a web site doing just that. He also wants me to begin teaching classes and selling wares, but, baby steps. Baby steps.
The site will give tips, how tos, recipes, as well as my own experiences, failures or successes. I do not claim to be an expert. But, I will gladly share what I do know with those who are interested in learning the noble and satisfying art of food preservation. I will also gladly accept any advice from those willing to help me expand my knowledge.
So, please visit my site at canningconfessions.com. I would greatly appreciate your support. And, comments are always welcome! Let me hear from each and everyone of you.
P.S.
I just launched the site last night. It's in the infant stage and will be undergoing drastic....errr well, it's just going to be growing. So, check back daily to see what's new. You'll be able to follow on Facebook as well. Thanks :)
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Pineapple Paradise
Thank the heavens! The natives were not nearly as restless today as they were yesterday. And, since I was not constantly having to play referee I was afforded ample time in the kitchen to make eight quarter pints of pineapple jam that actually set! There was some cause for concern at first. You see, after the great "peach butter scorching"incident of '10 I'm always weary of leaving my product on the flames too long. But, after giving it a good sample this evening I can assure you that is indeed "set".I also made six half pints of strawberry-pineapple conserves with walnuts and golden raisins. I wanted to add a strawberry liquore to it, but that would have required the great hassle of loading up children and making a run to the store. It's still a decadent dessert topper even without the liquore. I can hardly wait to smother a pound cake or cheesecake in it!
There was also four half pints of pineapple and Chinese five spice marinade that will be perfect on pork. And, since I had more pineapple than I had empty jars on hand I made up a batch of a tropical freezer jam that included strawberries, mandarin oranges, banana, and of course, pineapple.
I'm too pooped to give up recipes at the moment, but check back. There are new things happening that hopefully will be unfolding soon.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
On The Road....Again
Has it really been four months since my last post? Wow. That's bad, even for me. But, I've got good reasons.....wait for it....You see, we moved. Again.
I know. I know. It's ridiculous the amount of moving we've done in the past two years. When we were dating Hubby informed me that he was somewhat nomadic. I suppose I should have paid more attention.
So, where are we now, you ask? Texas. That's right. We've landed smack dab in the fourth largest metropolitan area in the United States. Dallas. Well, Frisco to be more exact. Oh, and get this. My neighbor across my alley is named J.R. Sadly, his last name is not Ewing.
Hubby finally found an "out" from the restaurant world and jumped on it like a duck on a june bug. He's now working for a software company. We see more of him now than I think we have collectively over the past few years. And, he really likes his job.
Firstborn just turned four a few weeks back. And Secondborn will turn two exactly a month from today. They've both had the normal transition issues, but seem to really enjoy it here.
I'm taking longer to adjust, but that's quite normal. Change has never been a great friend of mine, but that's something I'm working at, well, changing.
It helps to have something to keep my mind off my homesickness. And, it just so happens that it's that time of year again when I can focus on my canning and preserving. Last week I canned 10 cans of chicken stock, seven half pints of strawberry-lemon marmalade, five half pints of freezer strawberry-banana jam, and six half pints of strawberry jam. I've also cooked and froze nearly 10 cups of shredded chicken.
I spent a good portion of this morning cleaning, coring, and chopping pineapples to be used in pineapple jam, pineapple-strawberry conserves, and pineapple and Chinese five spice jam/marinade. The natives were fairly restless this morning and not nearly obliging as they were last week when their behavior allowed me so much uninterrupted time for my obsession.
I've had several requests and more than a few emails/Facebook messages to detail what I'm doing and include recipes. So, it seems this blog will be taking an interesting turn over the course of this summer. I hope you don't mind. In fact, I rather hope you like it. And, if you do like it, pass it on!
Monday, February 7, 2011
Should Be Sleeping
I should be sleeping, but I'm not. Instead, I'm sitting in the kids' bedroom holding Firstborn's hand as he sleeps. This is the most memorable part of my day.
If you look back almost exactly a year ago on this blog you'll notice that what I'm about to say and what I've already said are quite parallel. Basically, it's the same story, we moved, life happens, and everybody gets sicks.
But, this time it feels like everybody is staying sick. Oh, one might recover from whatever ailment it is plaguing them, but rest assured by next week it's mutated into something completely different and is being passed around like the latest comic book. Within the past three weeks both Firstborn and Secondborn have had strep throat. This was followed by a serious bout with RSV for the latter.
At first, she was on breathing treatments every four hours round the clock along with some talk of a stay in the hospital. I slept on the floor of their room for several days to be able to give the round the clock treatments. But I'm relieved to report that she's doing much better and we've been able to let up on the breathing treatments somewhat.
Because of the sickness we've all been at home much more than we'd like. A severe case of the Island Happy has set in and we're all a bit wound tight. Fortunately, Firstborn has been able to rejoin his preschool class twice a week. Yet, I fear that's not enough.
He's held my complete attention for for such a great length of time that he's taken issue with the lack I've been able to give him of late. You see, Secondborn wishes me to die an early death. I can think of no other way to sum it up. I've spoke of how she is the daytime to his night. I've described how completely opposite of one another they are. And, yet, they are so much like their gendered parent, it's unbelievable.
Not only does the boy look identical to his father's baby and childhood pictures, but the girl to mine. And, it isn't just limited to looks. Their personalities seem to mirror those of each respected, as well.
Firstborn is reserved, bashful, if you will. Once you engage him, and often it takes a great deal of coaxing, he has the time of his short lived life. Secondborn knows no fear. To say she is spirited and independent is somewhat the understatement. They truly are the equivalent of each of us in a most frightening and unusual way.
All that being said, I'm having to give Secondborn a great deal more attention than I ever did Firstborn at this age. In fact, it's almost impossible to take my eyes off her for fear of finding her running up and down the length of the formal dining room table......again. Or, climbing the floor to ceiling blinds as she did in our old house.....before she could walk.
Firstborn has had a difficult transition with this move. He's had a difficult time with the lack of attention I'm able to give him at this point. And, quite frankly, I'm having a difficult time with him.
He's not being a bad child. He's being a three and a half year old who's having trouble adjusting to many new things in his ever changing environment. It's me that seems to behaving as a bad child. I'm ashamed of how much alone time I've been craving. I'm ashamed of how overwhelmed I've become by his constant need for attention, my approval, my...my...my love.
And, it's when I finally have a moment of clarity when Secondborn isn't trying to scale the washing machine by way of whatever's at hand, that I realize how much his happiness depends upon my loving approval.
He's had it all along. For so long. And, then when I get bogged down with the reality of sick children, sick family, moving, settling in, but not really settling in because we're only here temporarily, insomnia like I've never experienced before, and a child who is hell bent on scaling Mt. Everest by age thirteen, I get lost. I get lost in the roar of the immediate and I can't hear the pleas of my dearest, darling, boy, "Mommy, watch me! Watch me!"
What shakes me to my core is looking back to one of the most beautiful faces I'll ever know with utmost attention and a little hand rubbing my arm saying, "It gonna be okay, Mommy. You're my best friend and I love you de whole day wong, ebry day."
How did I get this far from centered? I don't know. How do I get centered again? And, by that I mean, how do I get back to enjoying absolutely every waking and, not just the sleeping moments of my children?
I miss having fun with my children. I mean, really enjoying each moment with them. I know as I type these words there will be at least twelve mothers out there saying to themselves, "Enjoy these days, because they go by much too fast."
I know these days are limited and precious. And, I can see brighter days ahead. I know they are there. How can there not be brighter days ahead with a best friend like Firstborn? But, tell me, how can I be so blind to them right now?
Friday, January 7, 2011
The Natives Are Restless
There is a great battle that will likely never be mentioned in any history book you pick up. But, a great battle it is. The natives in this battle wage a warfare that is calculating and decisive. Their spirits are brave. Their willingness to face the enemy day after day is overwhelming.
For the record, I'm the enemy. Each and every afternoon I face the battle of nap time. Firstborn is hit or miss with there being any actual sleep during his nap time. But, I still demand he lay quietly and rest. His quiet time is just as much for me as it is him.
Secondborn is in the process of transitioning down to one nap a day now. She always sleeps for several hours. The trouble I'm having with her is trying to push her nap time back so she won't be so cranky and tired late in the afternoon.
But, the battle lies in the fact that they share a room. I wanted them to share a room for a few years so they would be close. It seems I got what I wanted. When they go to bed at night there are the expected bed time stallings, but they usually quieten down fairly quickly now. But, for some reason they just can't seem to nap together.
The past week of battling has left me weary and ragged. However, I changed my plan of attack this afternoon. I moved Firstborn to the den couch. Within fifteen minutes he had waved the truce flag and passed out cold.
Secondborn waged a much more impressive and impassioned warfare. Yet, half an hour later upon realizing her resources were much depleted she too waved that white flag of surrender.
The restless natives were finally soothed into submission and I won victorious! At least until tomorrow's battle.
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