I'm supposed to save the world

I have an ongoing argument inside my head about being environmentally responsible.  It goes like this:

Carrie: "I think I'll run to Target."
Brain: "But it's a waste to spew emissions just to go to Target.  Can't it wait?"
Carrie: "Well, yes, it can wait, but there are a few things I need.  And I want to get out for a bit."
Brain: "Couldn't you go tomorrow and lump a bunch of errands into one run?  And stay home today?"
Carrie: "Yes, I could, but if I stay home all day then by 1:00, I'm nuts.  And I will get frustrated keeping the boys from killing each other.  And if I lump a bunch of runs together then I spend most of my time lugging the boys in and out of car seats.  It will be a quick run."
Brain:  "But even a quick run means the car will be running.  And it's not absolutely necessary."
Carrie: "Why do I have to forego my run to Target when the majority of people do not forego ANYTHING in order to limit their carbon emissions?"

Now this particular conversation is about getting in the car and going somewhere.  But I have this conversation about using disposable diapers.  About using disposable napkins instead of cloth.  About leaving appliances plugged in when they are not being used (like the coffee pot).

I don't know when my Brain decided that I, Carrie, am supposed to do everything in order to save the planet.  But I get plenty tired of having to tell that bee-atch that there are millions of other Americans that need to shake a leg and get on it as well.

I'm doing what I can.
And I have to balance Mother Earth's needs with Mother Carrie's needs for mental health.

My favorite 3-year-old

Dear G,

Today you are 3 years old.

As the day passed, I watched you, thinking about how you have changed in the past year.  A year ago your brother was still cooking in my belly, and you temporarily had me all to yourself since N had begun kindergarten.  A year ago you still seemed a baby to me.
                                                                                              

Just born

6 months old

Happy 1st Birthday

18 months

But you are such a big boy now.  Able to clean up a mess when I ask you to (and when you are feeling particularly cooperative).  Able to use your imagination when playing with your cars and trains.  Able to point out every single solitary digger-type vehicle on the side of the road.  Able to run with N to the bus stop in the morning.  Able to jump.  Able to catch a football.  Able to aggravate your mother to the point that she feels like she might not make it until bedtime.

There are so many things I love about you.  I especially love the way you invert your expression of cause and effect.  For example, when you say things like, "I pooped because I cannot sit in the chair."  And I love it that you sing in the car to everything from the Wiggles to Hannah "Ontana" as you call her.  And that you sing nursery rhymes in your own unique way, like by meshing together "Margery Daw" and "Jack & Jill" by singing.....

See-saw, Margery Daw.
Jack fell down and broke his crown.  (Instead of Jack shall have a new master)
He shall earn but a penny a day
Because he cannot work any faster.  (I love it that you say cannot, not can't or won't)

I love it that in the past year your bedtime sleeping buddies have ranged from a McDonald's Happy Meal Susan toy from the movie Monsters V. Aliens to a lavender stuffed hippo to every Island of Sodor train you own.

I love it that every time we drive past the Blockbuster you say, "I doan wanna go der.  The man wit da hat.  He's funny" because of the life-size poster of Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter.

And even though it is extremely tiring and exasperating at times, I love it that you are rough and tumble, whack'em, smack'em, no holds barred boy.  (Your brother, I'm sure, would not concur with this sentiment as he receives the brunt of your whack'em/smack'em behaviors.)

It saddens me that there is so much of your babyhood I don't remember.....it is impossible for a mother to hold those memories in her heart as real and alive as they were when they occurred.  What gives me joy, though, aside from looking back at your sweet baby face and how it has changed over time, is knowing that I get to share the next year with you and see you become more of the boy you were born to be.

I love and cherish you always, G.

Mommy

2 years old

2 and a half years old

Happy 3rd Birthday, my lovely boy

Constant state of recovery

Most of the time I feel so far removed from the days when my anxiety and OCD hampered my life.  When things would upset me so badly that I would rant and rave and become explosive angry and simply be unable to think of anything else but the incident that set me off.  My brain would churn, churn, churn over the incident.

Most of the time I can let things go.  Glide relatively easily over life's little molehills.  My toes are always a little stubbed because I just wouldn't be me if I cleared the hill completely without any kind of scrape.

But then I have today, when I am so out of control of my obsessiveness that it is all I can do and even become physically exhausted by the effort of reigning myself back in, back to some semblance of composure.

I am fighting a battle inside my head.  And it makes me feel like a failure because I sometimes can delude myself into thinking I no longer need to fight.  That I am cured.

But I am not.  Only recovered.  In remission.

And little stresses have been sitting on my plate for months, never fully going away, just sitting, piling up, weighing heavily on their resting place inside my mind.  Keeping me at low-grade worry.

The ENT claims that were just sitting out in space, and are finally being processed (but for who knows how much?).  The specter of M needing surgery for tubes...another expense.  The new school year, 27 school days in force, which has brought with it sickness in each child.  The winter that looms ahead which could be as sickly as 2009 was.  My cavities and new fillings, which are giving me some discomfort and will require another dental appointment.....and more money.

I know perfectly well that all of these are minor, minor health-related issues.  No cancer.  Nothing life threatening.  Nothing that singularly justifies anxiety overload.  Probably even combined, in a person with a perfectly healthy head, they wouldn't amount to the proverbial hill of beans.

But I don't have a perfectly healthy head.

And nearly 12 months of interrupted sleep and very few "Mommy do something fun just for her and not just grocery shopping" opportunities are not good for anyone.

So yesterday's bill for $750 has not upset me solely because of the money.

That is only part A of my worry.

Part B is the knowledge that had I been aware, been notified, I would have been on it so hard it would have been resolved.
Part C is the anger at the whole "health insurance" situation, that by signing into the hospital to have my baby, I agreed to pay for it all, even in situations like this when the billing company and doctor's billing department were incompetent.
Part D is the recognition that I am not cured.  I am dependent on medication to keep my brain functioning in a harmonious way.
Part E is the sadness that my stability is sometimes fleeting.

And as my dear husband pointed out when I called him crying about this whole mess,
Part F is the memory of just how miserable my life was for a time, and that being overwhelmed by my OCD and anxiety brings me full force back into that life.

I didn't miss it at all.

Moments of misery (or I'm mad AGAIN)

So yesterday I was mad and realized I was ridiculous (a little).

Today I was even more mad, so mad that it felt like the stress and anger fizzled out all the good stuff my antidepressant does in my brain.  I felt like old Carrie, and that is not a good place to be.  Obsessive to the nth degree Carrie.

I received a bill in the mail from the surgeon who assisted with my c-section on Oct 7, 2009.  This is the FIRST and ONLY bill I have received from this guy.  Saying I owe $750.  What the fuck?  The baby he helped deliver is "this" close to a year old.

So I called the doctor's billing office to see why it hadn't been filed with insurance and explain that, perhaps because it had taken them so effin' long to file it, insurance wouldn't pay.

To make a very long and unpleasant afternoon in my life short, I was on the phone with 2 different insurance companies and the doctor's billing supervisor 3 times within a 2-hour time span.  The doctor has until Oct 7 to get the claim into our current insurance.  And if he doesn't do that, then, technically, he can hold me responsible for the full $750.

EVEN THOUGH IT IS HIS OFFICE'S STUPID FAULT THAT THEY WAITED UNTIL 11 BUSINESS DAYS BEFORE THE DEADLINE TO FILE IT.  (Ok, technically, it was submitted earlier in the year but then the doctor switched billing service companies and then the claim was resubmitted in July.  But since JULY it has been floating out in billing space.  And no one EVER THOUGHT TO SEND ME A FUCKING BILL so that I'd know what is going on.)

Lord knows, I would have been "on it" had I known about it.  I'm sorry that I didn't jot down every doctor and nurse's name in the operating room while my lower body was numb, and I was yakking up the stuff they gave me to "settle my stomach" before they sliced into me.  Oh, yeah and feeling the 8 lb, 4 oz baby kicking at my womb to be let the hell out.

Dammit, I had other things on my mind at that moment in time.

And so, I am sending a politely worded complaint letter (along with a copy of my current insurance card) to the billing supervisor.  As well as a politely worded complaint letter to the office manager.

And you better believe I will fight those fuckers over that $750 if it comes to it.

But dang, I would seriously like for the bitch in me to be able to settle down for like a full 48 hours before I have to go full throttle again.

Hear that universe?????

Hey Will Durst, I'm mad too.....

A friend posted a Facebook link to Will Durst's essay, "Man oh Man, I'm Mad," which I thought was hilarious.  Although I know it was intended as satire directed at Tea Partiers, I thought it was funny because I was in the process of being mad and reading it made me see that I was maybe being just a little bit ridiculous.

I was mad at my husband's HR department.  His company has an on-site clinic where we can see a doctor or physician's assistant free of charge, for sick or well visits.  Today they were going to be giving flu shots in addition to doing health assessments of employees and spouses.  So our plan was to take the whole gang in to get flu shots and then D and I could take turns watching the kids while the other was being weighed, blood pressured, etc.

But then yesterday HR emailed employees the informed consent sheets to be printed, signed and brought in for the shots.  And on the consent, it said that this particular shot they had was not to be given to children under age 4.  So I called HR to ask if they would have shots for kids under 4 available today (or ever).  I left a message and heard nothing back.

Since I know nothing about flu shots, I called the CDC to find out what shot my almost 3-year-old and almost 1-year-old would need.

This morning I called the clinic to see if they had the pediatric shots.  And I was told no, and they didn't know when or if they would have the shots available.

All of this made me mad.  Mad that our "plans" were a complete waste.  Mad that I had to call and email and nearly hunt someone down to get an answer.  Mad that because of all this nonsense and lack of communication my blood pressure, which was going to be checked in an hour, would almost assuredly be high.  Mad that I'd had to fast and was hungry and still had to contend with my screaming children.

Basically, I was mad that all of this was out of my hands, and I just had to deal with it.

Recently I was mad at Babies R Us about bed rails that had been ordered incorrectly in 2007.  Last week I got mad enough that I left the district manager a message on Thursday, Sep 16th that if he didn't call me back within 24 hours I was going to call his boss and his boss's boss until I got my bed rails.  And then I told the store manager I was going to contact Lemme Do It if I didn't get an answer as to when I would receive my bed rails.

Today, Sep 21st, my bed rails were Fedex'd directly to my home and I am receiving 50% of the cost of the bed rails back for all of my trouble.  And the district manager gave me his direct cell phone number if I have any other problems (I'm assuming he means with Babies R Us and not life in general).

So being mad and expressing that anger can sometimes get you results.

But it can also just make you look like an idiot, as I am when I am carrying on about "People who don't call me back, blah, blah, blah" and "These companies are so inefficient, blah, blah, blah."  Fortunately, I do this within the confines of my home...although sometimes I can't help but let loose a little on Facebook.  I know D gets more than a little edgy when I get pissed about something related to his job  because of my tendency to rant and say something to higher-ups when I think something just ain't right.  It is times like these when he is thankful we do not share the same last name.

A tour of my book shelves

I am a complete copycat, but when Midwest Mom did a similar post I thought it was awesome.  And so the idea has been lingering in my head for a long time.

Back in the day I had lots more adult books (not X-rated adult, by the way).  Now I spend most of my money on books for the kids.  Because who has the desire to read when one is on month 11 of interrupted sleep.  And I know how to read and they don't, so I need to encourage as much as I can.

So here is my book shelf tour---

This is my bedside table.  I am currently reading the book Wet Nursing:  A History from Antiquity to the Present by Valerie Fildes.  I keep 3 child-related books for quick reference there (Love & Logic Magic for Early Childhood by Jim Fay and Charles Fay, What to Expect the First Year by Murkof, Mazel and Eisenberg, and The No-Cry Sleep Solution by Elizabeth Pantley), as well as Maurice Sendak's Mommy.  I also have 2 of Silas House's books that I have begun but not yet finished.

Near the reading chair (which I never read in), I have some books about motherhood, some books I borrowed eons ago from my friend K, and The First Days of School by Harry Wong.

In M's room, I have this shelf, as well as the red basket next to it where extras go that don't fit on the shelf.  I have a really hard time justifying books for M because he has so many board books that belonged to N and G.  Once he gets older and develops his own definite likes and dislikes, I will purchase accordingly.

This it the library book basket in N and G's room.  We only put library books in here which makes it (mostly) easy to find what needs to be returned.  Sometimes favorite library books will migrate downstairs or into the bookcase in their room.

I 

A friend of mine is having a book swap this coming week so I recently cleaned out 72 books from this shelf to put in the swap.  I really, really hate getting rid of books---it's almost sacrilegious, but the truth is there are just some books N has outgrown and some that don't really strike their fancies.

This is the seasonal book basket.  It kinda bugs me to read Valentine's books in fall and Christmas books in summer, so I keep them up high until I get out books for their appropriate seasons.

Right now this is the only bookshelf on the main floor of our home.  Eventually I'd like for books to be kept in the wall unit we had built, but that is currently crammed to the gills with toys.  N and G's books are on the top shelf, along with children's music CDs.  And below are M's board books, as well as coloring books, craft books and journals.

I used to have a lot more books, but at some point I decided I would rather keep only books that really mean something to me.  Like books I've read multiple times (like Jane Eyre).  Or books that both D and I like (The Lord of the Rings trilogy).  Or books that have sentimental value (Humana Festival plays book featuring Beast on the Moon).  Or books from my childhood/teaching days that I want to share with my kids when they are older.

The top 4 shelves of this bookcase are actually CDs, which sucks but we have nowhere else to put them.  Of course, if they were gone I'd feel the need to fill up the space with more books, so it's best for my budget if we just leave them alone until I'm not spending a trillion bucks a month on diapers and have time to actually organize anything in my home.  The bottom shelf of this bookcase has more kids' books.

Anymore I don't have time to pay too much attention, what with chasing the kids, but sometimes I do notice that some people don't have any visible bookcases in their homes, which I still find odd.

Admittedly, my bookcases are much further down my list of priorities than they used to be before the kids came along, but I still get a great deal of aesthetic pleasure from seeing books lining the shelves.

Take that, Kindles everywhere.

Some things I'm nerding out over

I recently started keeping track of our money habits on Mint.com.  Eons ago we kept everything on Quicken, but for reasons I no longer remember we stopped.  But now I am back in the saddle of keeping track of the minutiae of our financial lives.  And it is at once thrilling and nerve-racking.....kinda like parenthood.  

As I've mentioned, I really like to save money and make a point to set aside certain amounts in certain accounts every pay period.  But I'm finding that I do spend more than I think I do on things for the house.  

Mind you, for the most part this is relatively inexpensive stuff, like new dish cloths since the other ones are getting holes in them and moving into the rag-bin.  And I purchased some new hand towels for the kids' bathroom because I was constantly having to do wash to launder 4 hand towels.  But these little incidentals do add up. 

And it seems like we have been a cycle over the past few months of having rather large VISA bills.  Like for having little problems fixed in the bathrooms which cost upwards of $450.  And we took a small 2-night vacation to Holiday World with the kids in June, which came to about $550.  

So I'm looking forward to when we have a couple months of not having any major expenses (assuming this happens).  And I'll get my jollies when I can see the pie charts showing exactly how much I spend every month on groceries, household supplies, clothing, books, restaurants, and so on.  

As if this isn't pathetic enough, I found an awesome magazine at the grocery store today and bought it, which for me is a luxury.  It is called Storage and is a Better Homes and Gardens Special Interest Publication.  It is all about organization, de-cluttering, storage products.  As I said on Facebook, this is my kind of porn.  

I am forever looking for better, more efficient ways to organize the house, which drives D crazy because as soon as he gets used to something being in one spot, I move it.  

I'm feeling the pull of the magazine, urging me to come upstairs, take a quick shower and hop into bed with it.  

G'night ya'll.  

If you're irrational and you know it, clap your hands

Every time I fold sheets I think about OCD.

Prior to being on my antidepressant, if I folded sheets and any part of the sheet touched the floor, I had to rewash it.  Even if I tried to continue folding the sheets and just stuff them in the drawer, I'd obsess about them and eventually pull them out to rewash.

I can now fold my sheets, and if they touch the floor they get stuffed into the drawer without another thought.

If I rearranged pictures on my wall and had nail holes, even if the nail holes were behind another picture and couldn't be seen, I had to patch the holes, prime them and repaint them.

Now, I can have nail holes in my wall.  When I notice them, I am able to go on with whatever I was doing without breaking out the spackle.

If I had any kind of pain or bulge, I obsessed that it was cancer.  I had many an "underground pimple" that I was convinced would result in chemotherapy.

I'd like to say I don't obsess about my health anymore, but I can't.  But I'm not running to the doctor for everything.  I give it time.  I talk myself down off the ledge of irrational thinking.

All of this was before I became pregnant in 2003 and started living with children.  Between hormones, lack of sleep and living with little people who thrive on making chaos out of one's household belongings, it is no wonder my OCD went threw the roof.

And even now, with breastfeeding hormones still in full play, 11 consecutive months of sleep deprivation (aside from those 2 nights when M slept more than 8 hours straight), and 3 little people who get sick.almost.constantly (at least once school is in session), it is no wonder I still require medication and still have to talk myself down from my irrational thinking.

What I continue to find funny is how I totally thought my thinking was "normal."  I mean,  it was normal for me, in the way that normal is the only thing a person knows.  I had always thought that way, and though it occurred to me that I might just stew too much or obsess, I didn't know any other way to think. I didn't know how to turn my brain off once I was on the path of obsessing.

Yesterday I had my dental work, and I remembered how before any kind of procedure (in the days before my meds) I would get nasty belligerent.  In my head I would be cussing the doctors and nurses to China and back, refusing to cooperate, just being a royal pain in the neck.  And this internal ugliness seeped out and made me angry, primarily with hubby and family (because I would never dream of actually being an asshole to the physician or nurses).

But it was unmanageable anxiety.  My fear of what I was having done and what the results would be.  I just didn't know how to cope.

My two little cavities also reminded me of how I felt (and still feel to some extent) like an utter failure whenever I made any kind of mistake or had any kind of unsatisfactory experience (like a health test that wasn't within "normal" limits).   Forget that I was cavity-free for better than 35 years.  In my head, the most critical issue is that somehow I failed and got 2 cavities.  And for that I feel a sense of shame.  Which I now know is ridiculous.  But I have to explain to my OCD-self that it ridiculous to think this way.

I felt this way when I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes in 2003.
I felt this way when I was diagnosed with OCD and GAD and required antidepressants.
I felt this way when I found out G was breech and knew a c-section would be in the offing.

So I have to remind myself that the GD was due to pregnancy hormones out of my control.  And I didn't have it with my subsequent pregnancies, so maybe it was all those female hormones floating around.

And I have to remind myself that I lived 30 years with OCD/GAD and was able to function well enough to graduate from college with 2 majors and summa cum laude, hold a job for 5+ years while earning my master's degree, marry, be a well-respected teacher, buy a home, travel.

And, Lord knows, I did everything I could to make that boy turn but he wouldn't and had to be surgically delivered.

Thinking about OCD reminds me of what a challenge it is to be a little less critical of myself, to recognize that it is darn near impossible to live up to the expectations I hold for myself.  That life is in control of me and not the other way around.

Not looking promising

Tomorrow is my birthday.

I was kinda underwhelmed by it due in large part to having scheduled a dental appointment, the purpose of which is to fill 2 cavities.  My only 2 cavities ever, mind you, that waited nearly 40 years before rearing their ugly heads.  I'm blaming pregnancy and breastfeeding hormones surging through my body nonstop since Jan 2007 and the fact that caring for 3 kids these past 11 months might have rendered me a  less than stellar brusher.

Being a cavity virgin was a crown I proudly wore to every dental appointment.
And now my reign has ended.

Add to this that yesterday I took the baby to urgent care since he'd been running a fever on and off since Wednesday.  With tomorrow being dental appointment day I knew I'd have to wait until Tuesday at the earliest to get him into the clinic.  Ear infection numero 5.  Since December 26th.  Will be scheduling tubes this fall.

And now my 6-year-old is running a 101 fever and has that nasally voice and ginormous tonsils that signal "strep throat."  Which may mean that I'll be scheduling a tonsillectomy this fall as well.

As my friend G likes to say, "Le sigh."

More about keeping things whole (and critical comments)

As per my usual, reading comments about my Intactivism blog have me thinking....or stewing.  Whatev.

I hope Dooce has a thicker skin than I do.  

So let me be real with myself (and my 5 readers) for a minute.  

Do I think I'm right?  

Well of course I do.

Doesn't everyone think what they do is right?

Do I think other people are wrong?  

Hmmmm.  Now that is tricky.  Because I truly do understand people have different circumstances, different needs, different desires, different personalities.  

And so I don't think of them as being wrong necessarily, but I often simply cannot wrap my head around their choices.  I just don't get it.  

(Exception:  That crazy church dude in Florida who is gonna burn the Quran.  That is wrong and just plain stupid).  

What I do strongly believe is that many, many people are misinformed or not informed enough.  And maybe I believe this so strongly because I, again, simply can't wrap my head around people making certain choices if they had more information.

When I was pregnant with N, before we knew she was a girl, the ob asked if I would want the baby circumcised if it was a boy, and I said, "yes."  Because isn't that what everyone does?  My brother is circumcised, as is my husband.  I never dated an uncut guy, so that was all I was familiar with.

But then I took a childbirth class and started learning about natural childbirth and whatever you want to call that movement of "letting things happen without human interference."  And I started learning that in many, many cases, things will go along just fine if we leave nature alone to do its thing.  

When I found out G was a boy, D and I did some basic research into the procedure and what the benefits are of circumcising.  And we determined that in addition to being painful, it was unnecessary.  D didn't care whether his boys looked just like him....I mean, they all have penises so who cares, right?  

So in my own life, when I didn't know anything about circumcision (other than knowing that all the men in my life were cut), I was going to tow the line and do it too.  But once I got some information, I drastically changed my opinion.  

In the grand scheme of things, snipping off a little foreskin isn't a big deal.  But haven't there been lots of things in society that were once considered "ok" or "not a big deal" that then become HUGE deals?  

And so maybe I focus on these little things, but so what?  Somebody has to.

Once my children grow up a bit and I'm not suckling a baby or looking at little boy penises all the livelong day during diaper changes, I won't have these topics on the brain.  I'll move onto other "small issue" issues.  

But I sure hope that when I die, if part of death is knowing all the answers to everything in life, I hope I find out that my boys get to experience extra awesome sex because their momma didn't snip 'em.  

Intactivism

So anyone who knows me even "this" much knows I am what might be called an attachment parent, a granola mom, whatever.  I am of the thinking that babies do what they need to do, eventually they develop out of some of the more annoying baby behaviors and this "baby" time is super, super short so just go with the flow (with some complaining about lack of sleep to your Facebook friends).

I read a comment on some parenting site that said something like...."the best way to care for your baby is to act as if you would if you and the baby were on a deserted island (so no westernized baby junk within arm's reach)....breastfeed, sleep with your baby, wear your baby."

And I would add to that "don't circumcise your sons."
Sure Tom Hanks was his own dentist in Cast Away and whacked away at his tooth with a blunt instrument, but that was a movie, and he was in pain and couldn't eat.  He really didn't have an option.
But penile skin that is just sitting there.  Not hurting anything.
Well, it should be left alone.

Now lots of people still circumcise their sons, and they are well within their rights.  They aren't asking me to apply Neosporin to their son's mangled penis or foot the $200 bill for the procedure, so I shouldn't really care, but I do.

The reason I care is because parents need to be FULLY INFORMED by their doctors as to the considerable risks and limited benefits.  They need to see the contraption that holds their baby down.  They need to watch a video of the procedure before it is done on their child (just as men have to watch a video of a vasectomy before they give their informed consent.)

And after all this, they still feel strongly that it is what they want for their child, then I am a little more "ok" with their decision.

But I feel quite certain that most people who make this choice for their sons don't give it even a minute's thought.

More from the peanut gallery

I have no video for this.  And probably the only reason this is funny is because I am his mother and find much of what he does simply adorable, but G loves to sing in the car.  He sings Backyardigan songs, Hannah Montana songs, Wiggles songs, and, my favorite, the Ting Tings' song, "That's Not My Name."  But G only sings the last words of the lyrics, so we hear from the back of the car.....

......"Say Now".........."Same"......."Oh no".........."Name"........"Girl"........."Stacey"........"Her"........"Jane"
"Name"......"Name"......."Name".........."Name."


We went to the zoo this weekend, and while watching the elephant demonstration the Asian elephant took a dump right in front of where we were standing.  When we returned home, I was rocking G before putting him into bed.  I asked him if he had a good time at the zoo and if he was pooped.  He lifted his head from my shoulder and said, "The elephant pooped."

G is forever asking me "Why?" which means he hears me say "Because....." alot.  And so he is working on also explaining things using the word because.  But his explanations are completely nonsensical most of the time....so much so that when I try to think of one I can't even make one absurd enough.  So I am trying to jot down his explanations.  The only one I've remembered to write down is when he said, "I've got fingers because I want to pop bubbles."


While G at the moment is the linguistics star of the house, N and M are doing their own respective stellar developmental activities.

Without further ado.....I announce that...

N has learned to tie her shoes!  Hurrah!!

M has learned to wave Bye Bye.

 

Ask me what I DIDN'T do today.....

The "problem" with being a SAHM is that it often doesn't look like I did ANYTHING.  Toys are still strewn all over creation.  Dishes are sitting in the sink.  I may not have put on deodorant.

So here's what I really did.

* Got up (Given that M is waking up like every 2-3 hours with what I suspect is teething discomfort,  getting up ranks as quite the feat.)

* Made the bed.

* Did N's hair.

* Changed 2 diapers and dressed 2 boys.

* Made pot of coffee.

* Took N to the bus stop with both boys in tow.

* Fed the baby.  (Oh, and I ate too.)

* Refilled all sink containers with liquid soap.

* Ran the dishwasher.

* Put all 3 kids' clean clothes away.

* Folded D's clothes and put in basket.

* Did another load of D's laundry.

* Called audiologist about bill.

* Called Babies R Us to find out where the FUCK the bedrails are that we ordered in June and were supposed to have a rush on them.  

* Deposited check in bank.

* Stopped at fabric store to get ribbon and thread.

* Stopped at school supply store in search of Girl Scout troop numbers for N's tunic.

* Dropped off book/clothes are friend's house.

* Went to Girl Scout store to purchase troop numbers.

* Stopped at Papaw's house for lunch & to visit.

* Put M to bed.

* Read 4 books to G and got him down for nap.

* Washed car, outside and most of inside.  No vacuuming.

* Picked up produce from neighbor (my share of a co-op food).

* Picked up N from school.

* Took kids to park to play.

* Gave all 3 kids a bath.

This concludes what I did from 7:30 a.m.-6:00 p.m. today.