Easily intimidated?

Maybe intimidated isn't the word for what I experience, but I don't quite know what to call it.  It's the feeling that maybe I should be doing things someone else's way, even though I know in my heart that that way really doesn't jive with my belief system and who I am as a person and a mom.  This feeling must be followed by a stern talking to that I give myself to remind me that I'm doing ok as a mom.  That my children aren't complete beasts.

When I took N and G to the library a couple weeks back, there was a table near the check out with books on child discipline and parenting, so I grabbed one that looked interesting, Raising Respectful Children in a Disrespectful World by Jill Rigby.  I could tell after a quick glance that it was too religious for my taste, but I figured I could skip those parts.  And all the prayer stuff wasn't even what got me thinking that maybe I should do things differently.

It was the tv stuff.

I admit that sometimes I have the tv on just for noise (for me).  Just to be able to get some things done; to keep N and G from fighting or keep G from stomping on M's head when I am trying to fix supper.  We don't have cable or satellite service, so all my kids get to watch is PBS and things that I've deemed ok on Netflix instant stream.   All G or PG shows/movies.  If I turn on the news, I only watch for the weather and then I switch it back to educational tv....because there is far too much sad/depressing/anxiety-inducing stuff on the news.  

But reading this book and it's reminder to turn the tv off has forced me to think a little more about when and why I turn the tv on for the kids.  And for how long.

And that is probably a good thing.  

When N was a baby, I was a tv nazi, fearful that her perfect little brain would turn to jello if I allowed the tv on.  And then I had a nervous breakdown, perhaps from being inside with my baby with no tv to distract me from the weight of being around a baby all.the.time.  So I have lightened up a good deal just for my own effin' sanity.  

I don't think any of the kids are gonna be screwed for life for watching too many episodes of Fetch!  With Ruff Ruffman or Toy Story 3.  

That's my story, and I'm stickin' with it. 

7 years lucky

Dear N,

Today you are 7 years old, and so I begin my annual note to you.

I wanted to post some pictures of you showing how you've grown and changed since you were born.  And what I thought would only take a few minutes of exporting turned into an hour (plus) of remembering so many wonderful times I have been lucky to share with you in your short life.  While I feel tremendous joy seeing you develop into a big girl who can do so much for yourself, such as making your own sandwiches and snacks, I also miss seeing you as you were as a little one with your sweet chubby cheeks and ringlets of blond hair.  I miss being able to cuddle with you and carry you and rock you to sleep every night.

As your mom, I am biased as to your intelligence and kindness and beauty, but knowing how many people who aren't your mom think so highly of you in these regards makes me certain hat even if I hadn't given birth to you, I would think you are a pretty special girl.

I savor little snippets of you as I can.  The things you say and can now do with greater physical ease (like jumping rope), I jot down in a journal.  I take pictures of or save your drawings and notes to me and your dad so that I can remember (and one day you can see) how you shaped your letters and tried to write in cursive and misspelled words (although very few).  The milestones you achieve now are subtle, and so I am sometimes surprised that you are now able to do something that you weren't able to do only a few short months ago.

In a few short years, our relationship will likely grow strained and sometimes downright unpleasant.  But I hope that these little letters to you will be a reminder, to both of us, that I have been so lucky, so privileged to spend this time with you, to be your mom, to have you in my life.  There is nothing so great I have ever done to deserve the gift that is you.

I love you always my dear daughter,

Mom

I've shut it up

I'm back to my version of normal now.  The funk over new carpet has passed, although I still have a yen to do something to the house.

Paying an $800+ Visa bill, the mortgage, the newspaper and making the usual transfers to the various accounts this morning helped provide a little perspective.  That coupled with using Windex on some of the carpet stains upstairs in the kids' bedrooms and seeing them mostly go away helped me accept that it makes more sense (on many levels) to just get the carpets cleaned throughout the house.

Prior to kids I had shampooed them myself, but that's been 7 years, and they've never been professionally cleaned.

In the end, I think I will feel much more content with funding M's 529 a little and making an extra house payment.  I think I am pretty good with delaying gratification, but delaying gratification by 10-15 years is hard even for me.  When I'm itching to change things up, knowing that we're saving a couple thousand in interest over the life of our mortgage loan doesn't quite hit the spot.

Still, I have to assuage this itch a little.

I will buy some new curtains for the office, since D sleeps down there when he has early morning code moves and has told me the sheer curtains suck.  When he told me this at 8:30 p.m. on Tuesday as he was preparing to head downstairs and said, "We need to get new curtains for down there," I asked, "Right now?  At 8:30?"

This summer we have to stain and seal the deck, since it has been since N was a toddler that we last did it.  Seeing a nice, bright deck will help ease my home improvement desire.  By gosh, maybe I'll buy a nice, wooden wind chime, which I have been wanting to purchase for years.  Every time I'd see a $24.99 or $36.99 price tag for a wind chime, I'd gulp and move on.

But this year, I'm gonna do it.

Just watch me.  

Noise inside my head

Some days I really wish I could get outside my own head.  Because I get tired of thinking and rethinking and overthinking and trying to be "smart about things," but really just wanting to just give into temptation.

And I know that in the big scheme of things, when so many people worry about how they are gonna pay their electric bill or feed their kid that night, me stewing over a tax refund is the height of pettiness (although I do think Paris Hilton is probably far worse than me).  But still, I realize that so many people have real serious issues.

What would be the smart thing to do is fund M's 529.  Or pay 2 house payments for this year.  Or just put it in one of the savings accounts and let it hang out for awhile.

But what I'd like to do is get new carpet for upstairs.  Because it is 10 years old.  Because it is cream and shows everything.  Because I really don't think some of these stains would come out with professional cleaning.  Because I am tired of it.  Because in 10 years we are gonna be sending N to college and won't be able to do stuff to the house.

I keep telling myself these are all valid reasons to get new flooring.  But I feel guilty nonetheless about wanting it because I know there are other more important things I should do with our money.

Both my mother and mother-in-law have told me that at some point as you age, you just don't care as much about your house and upgrading as you did when you were younger.  And right now, perhaps because as a stay-at-home mom I am in my house all.the.time, I want to change things up.  I want to enjoy my house now before I don't care much anymore.  Before the expenses of the kids....braces, ipods, DS games, car insurance premiums, college tuition, make what I spend on diapers look like chump change.

The lovely things they write and say

 Unfortunately, these toilet notes that N writes and hangs on the outside of the powder room never, ever apply to her flushing the potty.  

This evening, G saw this play money in the basement and said, "N, look.  It's Lady Gaga."  

(The 10th President is rolling over in his grave.)

Another brain dump...

This is my third post that I've begun this evening.  The other two went nowhere, which means I have a lot to unload but none of it is substantial enough to actually fill what qualifies to me as a blog post.

So this is gonna be the stew.  A little of this.  A little of that.

KIDS
I have decided to teach N cursive since she is showing interest.  Of course this requires me to instruct her, which is like whacking my head against a very large piece of quartz.  Because N, in her mind, already knows how to write in cursive.  Tonight we worked on A-G in both capitals and lower-care.  At least 14 times, she said to me, "Mom, I know."  Of course, at least 5 times she said, "I can't do it!," (which seems to negate her earlier insistence that she knows exactly what she is doing).  Deep breathing required.

G is a complete and total mess.  Every day he throws like 6 tantrums.  I really want to be patient and sympathetic, but by tantrum #4 I have HAD IT.  (Because, ya know, I still have 2 other kids who like to be whiney and annoying at any given moment too.)

M is gonna nurse until he's 14.

WAS IT THE DRUGS?
I noticed this afternoon when M wanted to pet the cat that he is quite gentle, for a boy.  When G was the same age, he just smacked, walloped whatever he wanted to put his hands on.  I tried my darndest to get him to understand gentle, but it never took.  G has always been a roughneck.  M can certainly be rough & tumble, but he is more of a blend of what N was like and what G was like---a nice mix of gentle/sweet and snips/snails/puppy dog tails.  If I hadn't been on antidepressants during both of my pregnancies with the boys, I really would think some of G's problem was his exposure.  But evidently, it is just his personality.

BUSYNESS

I love my day-planner.  One of my favorite times of year is in December when I purchase a new one...all sleek and clean and full of the promise that a new year holds.

Looking at it right now, I am very much aware of how busy I am.  Not in a "I'm gonna freak out because of all this crap to do" way.  Just an acknowledgment that life is chock full of things to do.  If it doesn't get done this week....there is always next.

Here is what my planner says for the week:  (I put in BOLD what I actually accomplished today.)

Monday:  Speech (G) 10:00 (although I took him at 9:30 for extra time since he didn't have therapy last Friday).  Scholastic order (needs to be finished and check mailed once N's teacher emails me that she has selected her free books).  Pick up stuff from P (reunion envelopes & such).

Tuesday:  Exercise, 9:00.  Eye exam for G, 2:30.

Wednesday:  Field trip, N.  Carpet guy over, 10:00.  Code move for D.  Girl Scouts, 6:30 (take Dr. Seuss books).

Thursday:  Wellness Assessment, 8:15.  Pay registration on cars.  Transfer $ to various accounts.  Make cake for school festival and cupcakes for N's class.

Friday:  Speech (G) 10:00, Reading response due (N's homework), School winter festival, 5-9.  Take cupcakes to N's class after 3:00.

Burning a hole

I know that it it makes absolutely no sense to be glad to get a hefty tax refund.  That I have let the government use my money interest free for a year.

But when one is so tight with money she squeaks when she walks, getting a nice windfall gives me an opportunity to feel a little light about making purchases....because I don't have to tap into the savings accounts (which is, after all, where money goes to die....not to actually be taken out and used for anything.)

So it was almost enjoyable to purchase a new, nicer swingset for the kids today and replace the metal one we bought 4 years ago (the bars of which have nearly rusted in half).  Thank you state refund.

Still, I am a born & bred saver, so since the federal return is still in process,  I am thinking about all the boring sensible places where that money can go.  Is it wrong that I seriously get my jollies thinking about whether I should put it towards M's 529 or pay 2 extra mortgage payments on the house this year?  Or maybe I should throw some into the extra medical savings account we have (on top of our FSA) to plump it up again after paying for M's myringotomy in October.

Is there a self-help group for frugal freaks like me?

Better than what you have now

D and I have an ongoing conversation about selling our house and moving into something that has a bigger garage and 4 upstairs bedrooms.  I am always on the side of staying put for a number of reasons, such as...

1. given the market, we would have to practically give our house away, and I refuse to cut into our equity to sell at a loss just to purchase a home that isn't that much nicer than what we have now (since in order to save as we do, we can't afford even a slightly larger mortgage).

2. N is already at our resides school, and we love it, so we'd be kinda dumb to move to another school cluster.

3. The preschool where the boys will attend (and where N went) is literally 2 minutes from our house.

4. D's work is a 7-mile drive from our home.  His car is a 2001, and I don't think he's passed 45,000 miles yet.

5. My goal is to pay off our mortgage before N goes to college or soon after, and if we move into a slightly larger home with a slightly larger house payment, this will interfere with that plan.

6.  I have a hell of a time keeping this house clean.  I don't need to clean more and potentially larger rooms.

7. We have the ability now to save and make upgrades to our home and enjoy them.  If we move, we won't have the money to make improvements to the home (and everyone wants to make a new home feel like theirs), which would leave me feeling terribly frustrated.

8. Under no circumstances do I want to try to show our house to potential buyers with 3 young kids underfoot.  This is akin to suicide in my book.

9. People who end up having the most wealth generally do not have the biggest, nicest, most awesomely decorated homes.  They drive older cars and keep them maintained.  They stay in their home and pay it off, early if at all possible.  They live within, or considerably well under, their means.

10.  We technically have 4 bedrooms (one of them is in the walkout basement) and our garage will feel MUCH larger when there isn't a Little Tykes coupe, a wagon, 2 strollers, a big wheel, a scooter, 2 play lawnmowers and multiple shelves full of outside kiddie toys.

11. Moving into this house, before we had kids and all the junk that goes along with younguns, was a pita.  I cannot clean the bathroom without the kids trashing the rest of the house, so I can't fathom what packing boxes would be like.

This conversation always reminds me of how differently D and I look at life situations.  He is of the "Is this the best there is?" mindset, while I am of the, "Is this better than what I have now?" mindset.

He still, nearly 10 years after buying this home, still thinks we should have looked longer.  I, on the other hand, was plenty worn out after looking at some 20 homes.  This house had an already finished basement,  was midway between his parents and my parents, was close to his work, and it was a heck of a lot bigger and nicer than our first home.

D's parents built their home in the early 80s, and my parents built their home in 2001, and despite building what they "wanted," they now realize there are things they would change.  And this is what I tell D when we have this discussion.  Even if we had bought the "best" there was, ten years afterwards, he would no longer think it was the best there was.

Given his line of thinking, I am very surprised that he has stuck with me for 13 years of marriage.  

To be the parent and child

At this moment, I am feeling rather sympathetic towards my children and however rankled they feel with me at any given moment.  Because right now I am feeling rather aggravated with my own parent.

A parent is a person with all measure of oddities and complexities and quirks that, sometimes or frequently or always, drive a child batty.  Whether the child is 3 and the adult is 37 or the child is 37 and the adult is 68.

It is hard being the child even when you are the adult child.  And it is hard being the parent even when you are the parent of an adult child.

It is a push and pull, a needing and a needing to get away from experience between parent and child that I guess continues until there is no longer a parent or a child.

And despite however frustrating that friction is within the relationship, when it is gone there is a deep longing to have it back.

Days of our lives

It is hard during the dregs of winter to find the delight of the daily grind.  I'll admit my mood just lightened moments ago when I booked our place in Orlando, making our family trip to DisneyWorld this summer really real.  

I have to remind myself of the joy that is now.  The comfort in the mundane.

Pushing one's little brother on the Thomas toy.

Pushing one's little brother off the Thomas toy.

Conking out during lunch.

Dressing up in mommy's sweaters and being babushkas.  

Enjoying one's older brother even though he pushes you down constantly and generally makes your life miserable.    

Being aggravated that one's little brother ruined one's picture of Bolt.

But explaining to the judges of the drawing contest why the picture of Bolt looks the way it does.

Realizing that two of the books you got during your first pregnancy in 2003-04 have been loved to death by three kids.  

Conversation Hearts for my children

It is the day after Valentine's, and just as the price of chocolates wrapped in red have plummeted, so has my mood.  I have been with sick kids since Saturday, Feb 5th when M started running a fever.  N seems to finally, maybe, be over her fever-running, although I fully anticipate an early morning something that will keep her home from school again tomorrow.

Today G has been complaining of his tummy hurting, and he has a cough, and he is just whinier than normal, a sure sign that his turn with the never-ending virus is nigh.

And as I've been at the mercy of sickish, demanding children who have asked the moon and Valentine candy to boot, I began thinking what kind of conversation hearts I would give them today.

To G:  (He gets 4 conversation hearts because he is 3, a particularly aggravating age.)
*UR annoyin'
* Let's spend some time apart
*U drive Me crazy
*I LUV the idea of drop-kickin' you across the street

To M:
*Quit askin' for boob
*U paw on me 2 Much
*2 cute 2 put out on the sidewalk for another family to take home

To N:
*Wash UR hands more so U quit getting sick all the time.
*Blow UR nose OK?
*4 more months til summer insanity.

Some favorite music lyrics and movie quotes

Romantic love and the fawning of early parenthood are wonderful but exquisitely short-lived.  The rest is frustrating and challenging and tiring, with snippets of joy and wonder thrown in to remind you that there is good in all of this mess.  


So on Valentine's Day I have the persevering of love in my head and heart.  With some favorite memorable lines that I have found particularly meaningful.  


Winter's Bone
I'd be lost without the weight of you two on my back. I ain't going anywhere.
--Ree Dolly


The Kids Are Alright
Marriage is hard... Just two people slogging through the shit, year after year, getting older, changing. It's a fucking marathon, okay? So, sometimes, you know, you're together for so long, that you just... You stop seeing the other person. You just see weird projections of your own junk. Instead of talking to each other, you go off the rails and act grubby and make stupid choices
--Jules


 Parenthood:
1. [Gil has been complaining about his complicated life; Grandma wanders into the room] Grandma: You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster. Gil: Oh? Grandma: Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride! Gil: What a great story. Grandma: I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it. 


2. Karen: I happen to LIKE the roller coaster, okay? As far as I'm concerned, your grandmother is brilliant. Gil: Yeah if she's so brilliant why is she sitting in our NEIGHBOR'S CAR? 


3. Frank: [on parenting] It's like your Aunt Edna's ass. It goes on forever and it's just as frightening. 


4. Julie: I can't do this! This is too intense! Helen: This is marriage! 


Luckiest by Ben Folds
I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you

Next door there's an old man who lived to his nineties
And one day passed away in his sleep
And his wife; she stayed for a couple of days
And passed away

I'm sorry, I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong
That I know

That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest


Between a Man and a Woman by U2


I could never take a chance
Of losing love to find romance
In the mysterious distance
Between a man and a woman

Imagination or the lack thereof

With N sick since Thursday evening and me honking and snorting nonstop since Friday night, we have been cooped up this weekend.  I took G with me to Blockbusters this morning where I bought 6 gently used dvds as a means of keeping us occupied for the next however many days until wellness temporarily reigns again.

One of the buys was Toy Story 3, a series of films that always gets me comparing my children's collective lack of imagination with that of Andy.  

If I ever had to say what N and G are good at, imaginative play would be way down at the end of the list.  I seriously sometimes wonder if there is something wrong with them.  Not once have they ever played school or doctor or daycare or anything.  They are fabulous at chasing each other and dancing with each other, but imagining.....not so much.

I know N sometimes imagines when she plays with her Barbies because I hear her talking for them.  And sometimes I hear G making his trains or cars talk to each other.  But I am never really blown away by their imaginative skills as I am at some of the stuff other people's kids seem to come up with.

For a long time with N, I blamed myself and the fact that I was so "in her face" for her entire baby/toddlerhood.  Feeling like I had to expand her brain constantly, never giving her an opportunity to entertain herself.  The tv was never on (at least until she turned 3 and I was sick for 11 weeks with all-day pregnancy yuck), so I can't blame that.

But I definitely didn't entertain G constantly when he was a baby and toddler because I was sick, tired and pregnant during his toddlerhood.

Of course, I don't remember being a terribly imaginative child.  With my friend DD, we would pretend we were married to members of Duran Duran.  And I guess when I danced in the basement, I would pretend I was on stage, performing for an audience.  Perhaps that is why in college my creative writing professor told me that my writing is stronger than my plot.  Perhaps that is why I am not a screenwriter for movies like Toy Story 3 with Buzz Lightyear saving the train and then being bombed by barrels of monkeys from Dr. Porkchop's pig blimp.

Elvis wanted a little less conversation.
I'd like a little more imagination.  

What my head thinks and my heart feels about consigning

I have been accused throughout my life of over-thinking things and being overly sensitive.  And when it comes to consigning my kids' items, I know I am guilty of both.

Twice a year, spring and fall, I participate in a big local children's consignment sale to get rid of toys the kids don't play with and clothes that no longer fit.  I am happy to have more room in the house and enough money to purchase clothes for the next season.  My goals aren't lofty.  Sure I would love to make enough to finance a vacation to Orlando, but that is never going to happen.

As I'm sorting and tagging and pricing my stuff, my head just wants to explode because of the wastefulness.  I check original prices online to see how I should price my gently used toys, and it just makes me sick how much money has been spent on toys for the kids.  In truth, very little of my own personal money has been spent since probably 60% of the kids' toys have come from grandparents, aunts/uncles, cousins and friends.  But it still hurts the checkbook of my mind when I remember that I spent $29 on a MegaBlocks wagon for Christmas 2008 or 2009 (I can't remember) that G rarely played or plays with.  Or the $80 I spent on a Disney Princess dollhouse for N's 3rd birthday that didn't get as much use as I think it should have.

Of course, then as I'm dropping my stuff off at the consignment sale, I spot oodles of cheap toys and think about purchasing something for the kids.  Fortunately, I quickly snap out of it when my frugal mind screams, "You are trying to get RID of stuff; not get MORE stuff!"  Talk about defeating the purpose of consigning.

And all the while my brain is stewing over the sunk costs of parenting, my heart is aching because N no longer adores Disney Princesses as she did at ages 3 and 4.  And G bypassed so many toddler toys in favor of HotWheels and Matchbox cars, of which he cannot get enough.  And M never even got into toddler toys because he has always wanted to do exactly what G does...which is play with Matchbox and HotWheels cars.  

I put the 12- and 18-month clothes on hangars and feel sad that my children have passed the infant stage.  As I drop my items off, I gaze longingly at baby girl clothes, their soft pink and lilac hues, tiny flowers and lace trim.  This time of N's life is long gone, and now even her size 7 and 8 jeans are getting tight.  And G has grown into his 4T clothes that were far too loose in the fall.

Through each of my pregnancies, I measured time with coupons.  I would snip a coupon with a July expiration date and think, "When this expires, I will be in my third trimester," or when a November expiration date appeared I would note that by the time it expired I would have a newborn baby in the house.

And now I seem to be measuring time and it's changes with the local consignment sales.  It is refreshing to get rid of the clutter and waste of childrearing and heartbreaking as well.

Are cold/flu and house falling apart seasons almost over???

My week, since last Saturday:

Saturday, Feb 5:  M sick with fever, congestion.  Clingy, whiney, little sleep.

Sunday, Feb 6:  M still sick with fever, congestion.  Only slightly less clingy, whiney.

Monday, Feb 7:  N begins to develop congestion.

Tuesday, Feb 8: D and I begin to develop congestion & run-down feeling.

Notice water leaking from kitchen cabinet.  Open cabinet door to find never opened gallon of distilled water only a quarter full.  Leak in jug has caused water to drip into cabinet, out of door, onto my less than a year-old hardwood floor and into spongy rug which sat for who knows how long on less than a year-old hardwood floor resulting in WARPED FLOOR.  Approximately 2x5 foot area.  

Someone just kill me now.  

Wednesday, Feb 9:  M begins with croupy cough.  D and I continue to feel run-down, congested, sickish feeling.  N begins with cough.

Thursday, Feb 10:  Called flooring store to get less than year-old hardwood floored replaced.  Looking at over $250 in repair costs.

More of the same regarding illness, except N begins feeling draggy, chilled in the evening.  Fever during the middle of the night.

I went to bed at 8:30 because being awake is just too much of a downer.

Friday, Feb 11:  N has 101 degree fever upon waking, so off to clinic we go.  Rapid strep test negative.  Culture gonna grow for a few days.  All indications are new virus on top of old virus that began earlier in the week.  D and I still congested and run down feeling after each child woke us up at least twice during the night or wee morning hours.

Homeownership and parenting are sometimes way overrated.    

What is going on??????

Now Pete and Ashley have split up??

In the last week I have learned about two real-to-me couples who have split up, and I am just saddened by all this bleak relationship news.

A lot of thoughts run through my head when couples head to splitsville.

*I wonder if this is how D and I might one day end up.

*I am reminded that other people's lives are just as ugly and messy and mundane as mine sometimes is, but we all do a fine job of covering.

*Even though I know fundamentally that both partners are to blame when a marriage breaks up, there seem to be situations when one person really did give up faster or seek solace elsewhere which makes them more culpable in my opinion.

*As much as I bemoaned as a teenager my parents' apparent lack of "romance," I have to say it was good preparation for the meat of marriage.  Getting sleep, getting paid, getting dinner on the table, getting kids to bed far, far outweigh getting it on most of the time.

*Picking one's battles is necessary in both child-rearing and marriage.

*Valentine's Day is a huge bucket of shit because one day does not a relationship make.

Or break.

When D and I were engaged, I kept a journal for him, filled with my thoughts about marrying him, snippets of articles on marriage, etc.  I found a cartoon once in which a mother is talking to her daughter about love and says...

"Marriage, Melanie, is not for the squeamish."

(as Melanie's father walks by fresh from the shower in a towel with paunch belly and balding head.)

News of breakups is a good time, though, for me to reflect on why I married D and why I stay married to D.  

Because I felt safe with him and felt secure that he would never hurt me. 

Because he liked the movie Orlando and other indie films.

Because he had an adventurous streak in him.

Because we share similar political and religious beliefs.

Because he hates sports, and I knew I'd never, ever have to watch Sunday Night Football again as long as we both should live.

Achilles child

Right now G is my Achilles child, but I'm not sure if it is just because he is 3 or just his personality, but I imagine it is a combination of both.

Today started out just spectacularly.

G grabbed the vacuum cleaner hose attachment from the basket on the steps and whacked M in the head with it.  In my frustration at his whacking M (and general bad morning mood associated with being awoken during the night each and every night for most of the past 7 years as well as entirely too effin' early by G every single morning), I turned around and whacked G in the leg with the hose attachment.  Hard.  Resulting in considerable tears.

And so it rained guilt for most of the remainder of the day because there is nothing as awful as one's child giving that look of, "Why did you hit me?"  

(Of course there was a huge article in the local paper about a girl and her boyfriend being convicted of murder for beating her nephew to death.....which made me feel even more like the Suckiest Mom on the Planet and truly one of the dregs of society.)

G is most of the time a delightful kid, and I do love his impishness.  He has a great sense of humor.  Today while in the car sitting in construction traffic near our subdivision where a new road is being put in he said, "Maybe Star Wars will come and shoot the diggers and we can go home."

But he is 3, and therefore prone to at least 2 tantrums a day, rain or shine.  Usually they are the same two  tantrums day after day after day.  (Or it seems that way, at least.)

And he likes to throw toys just to do it.  And he takes toys out of M's hands constantly.  And he will not cooperate with potty-training whatsoever.

N was a pain in the arse at 3, and G is proving no different.  

A week of oddities

This has not been a great week.

Monday afternoon I was sitting at the computer when all of a sudden I felt sick.  It was like someone flipped a switch on me.  One second=fine.  The next second=yucky.  Within a couple hours, I could tell I had some kind of stomach bug.  I had no appetite but managed to fix dinner for D and the kids.  I went to bed early.

At some point during the night, I awoke to the sensation of every drop of water in my body rushing to my intestines in an effort to flush itself of the invading virus.  That is never a pleasant way to awaken out of a deep sleep.  I quickly got out of bed and began walking to the bathroom.  The next thing I heard was "THUD!," which is how my head sounds when it hits the floor.  I had passed out.  D came running over to me and helped me to the toilet.  I felt sweaty (as I do when my blood sugar plummets) and began stripping off my shirts.  Afterwards I just laid on the cool tile floor, with a ziplock bag of ice on the back of my head.  The remainder of the night was spent in our small dressing area right outside the bathroom.

Tuesday D stayed home just in case I passed out again.  Wednesday I felt better but still not good.  Thursday I felt well enough to run some errands, which included getting my allergy shot.

And then last night, as I was rocking G before putting him into bed, I began to feel vertigo, a sensation I haven't felt in over 10 years.  I have a history of vertigo that began after D and I returned from our honeymoon and didn't abate until quite awhile after I began taking allergy injections.  My right ear once again has a sensation that little elves spent the night shoving cotton balls into its deepest recesses.

Terrific.

So I will very soon be heading to the clinic to hopefully get a script for meclizine, which I used to have to carry around with me at all times for those vertiginous moments.  And to ensure my irrational mind that the passing out spell and vertigo aren't symptoms of a brain tumor.

Oh, and last night I was awake from 1-something until about 5-something with both the boys, who apparently planned for M to be awake for hours on end moaning and G to pop out of bed at least twice in an effort to completely undo me.

The fates are fucking with me this week.