Mood-Disordered Mama

Oh, and please improve your critical reading skills

2012-02-15T05:54:00.000-08:00

Because I'm still feeling mean and nasty, let me also ask that anyone who wants to start stuff about what I write on my blog might be advised to read carefully.

"Not everyone enjoys nursing their children through kindergarten, as you seem to do."

Unless an education reform bill passed of which I am not aware, 28 months old is not the new age level for kindergarten enrollment.

"Nursing is a very personal choice and does not work for everyone."

While I think nursing is the normal (and best) way to feed, nowhere in this post did I suggest that everyone nurse or engage in extended nursing.

"To teach your kids to "expect their spouses or themselves" to nurse such as you do is ridiculous. I hope your children are independent enough to make their own decisions about this, not a decision based on what you did or expect from them."

Lots of people raise their children in a religious persuasion and expect (or hope) that their children follow suit when they grow up. Lots of people expect their children to go to college. Lots of people expect their children to marry and have children of their own. If my children make different choices (as I made different choices from what my parents expected/hoped), I will deal. But like any parent, I have hopes, expectations and desires.

"And you wonder why your kids are very slow to potty train and you giggle that it leaves your husband a difficult time when you go out of the house."

My oldest two, neither of whom pooped on the pot until they were 4.5 years old, weaned at 12 months and 14 months, respectively. Hardly extended nursing in their cases.

And nowhere in my post did I giggle, act amused or in any way suggest I was happy that my husband becomes frustrated when he puts M to bed without nursing.

Ok, critical reading lesson complete.

A giant anonymous fuck-you

2012-02-15T04:26:00.000-08:00

Whenever someone has been less than nice in their comments, I have tried to be polite and civil in my response to it. But I'm done with being nice.

So, to you, the anonymous "extended breastfeeding" person and anyone else who wants to be critical of my blog, my life, my choices:

If my blog is so disagreeable to you, THEN STOP READING IT!! Go find some other blog to read, written by someone far more agreeable to your mindset.

You may find the way I'm raising my children totally inappropriate and ridiculous, but if there is one thing I am teaching my children it is to be respectful and not say anything if they don't have anything nice to say. They can think whatever the heck they want, but the stop signs at the end of their tongues (or their fingertips if they are in the online world) need to function properly unless someone specifically asks their opinion.

Based on your comments, I feel a little sad for the kind of stuff you are teaching your children about being civil, polite and keeping their opinions to themselves.

The upsides and downsides of extended nursing

2012-02-14T19:04:00.000-08:00

I never expected that I would still be nursing M at 28 months. As with most things, it has its good aspects and its not so good aspects.

One of the nicest things about it is that I still think of and visualize M as a baby. Extended nursing is, at least in my mind's eye, keeping him from becoming a big boy too soon, which is a special blessing since he is my last baby. Once this roller coaster stops, that is it: I will never nurse another baby.

Of course, I think of most 2-year-olds as still very much baby-like, even if they are not nursing. I have never understood putting 2-year-olds in preschool or MDO programs (unless the mom has absolutely no family anywhere near and has a husband who travels a lot). Two-year-olds need to be with their mommas because they are toddlers....just barely beyond the threshold of babyhood.

Another great benefit of extended nursing is that it gives both N and G a chance to see (and hopefully remember) seeing me nurse their brother. Hopefully it is normalizing breastfeeding for them, making it something they will expect to do or expect their wives to do if they ever become parents.

Making other people uncomfortable is also a nice side effect of extended nursing, and I am just ornery enough to get a cheap thrill out of doing so. I do not expose myself and leave it all hanging out, but I also don't attempt to cover with a blanket because M wrangling the blanket and kicking it would be far more obvious than just holding him close in my lap. I have no problem glaring back at anyone who gives me a "disgusted" look. Last week I sat at the front of Lowe's on a bench with M in my lap nursing and G at my side facing customers check out at the self-service machines. I have a hard enough time getting the boys through the store to get the items I needed; I'll be damned if I'm gonna haul ass to the back of the store near the restrooms just to be more private.

The only real downside I have at this point is being home to put M to bed. D can put him to bed but it can involve an awful lot of tears (on M's part) and frustration (on D's part). I just arrive late to book club, which is just about the only "fun" thing I am able to do given our schedule and desire to be home most nights of the week. M won't nurse forever, and at some point I will be able to arrive on time to book club.

This is a short-lived span of time, which I try to remember on those rare occasions when I get a little overwhelmed that I have been doing this for 28 months.

Just whatever

2012-02-13T19:03:00.000-08:00

Not much going on round these parts, which is quite nice. I've been hell-bent on getting some things done and completely put to bed because I am just so stinkin' tired of them hanging over my head. I am quite certain this enjoyment of calm will be short-lived, and I will find some new project or volunteer thing to do.

****In January, here is something that made my OCD soul a little happy. This is what my lazy-Susan cabinet looked like before: my flour in gallon-size ziploc bags; no order to any of it.

And now thanks to Harriet Carter, my cabinet looks like this, which might not seem like much of an improvement, but it feels huge.

****One of my projects is to do a home inventory so in case our home is ever destroyed in a fire or we are burglarized, we have a thorough list of everything we own. I got the model and serial number off of every appliance, every tv/dvd/xbox/speaker/technological whatnot and emailed them to D. I have been taking pictures of all our furnishings that do not have model/serial numbers. I have been attempting to scan receipts for all big-ticket items.

Right now on iPhoto, there are a bunch of pictures like this hanging around.

Wow, an almost 15-year-old chair and ottoman with enough cat hair on it to knit a sweater. Worth a fortune!

****It occurred to me at some point last month that I should take a photo of M with his dog Scout. He sleeps with him every night. M goes through spells when he ignores the dog, and then he will decide he wants Scout to go with us everywhere. When N was a toddler she had 2 little bears that she still sleeps with. G never had a stuffed animal lovey. It is nice that M has carried on the tradition a bit.

****D celebrated his 43rd birthday. I made Greek spice cake for the adults and cupcakes for the kids. I love it that the kids so love birthdays.

****G and M, when they aren't killing each other, are turning into really good buddies.

We will soon be doing what I hope is the last round of musical beds (version 1 and version 2) in this house---moving N into her own room (which is now M's nursery) and putting both the boys in the larger bedroom.

Bedtime has become a farce because N wants to read chapter books. Due to their age, neither of the boys have any interest in chapter books. If I am attempting to read to N while G is sitting with us in her bed, he gets bored and proceeds to flop like a fish or jam his finger into my belly button to see just how deep it will go or simply get out of bed and go disturb M in his room.

M can stand to read in bed with me, N and G but only until his book is complete---then he starts doing the fish flopping routine, eventually climbing out of bed and saying, "Da-ee, Come!," beckoning to D with his hand. (D sits in the rocking chair reading Twitter, waiting for all hell to break loose and me to instruct him on where to take whomever is being especially disruptive or for M to give him the "Let's go into my room" command.)

****As I mentioned in another post, M's latest thing is to "Peck" his own clothes. And he always, always selects pajamas. This was his choice one day last week.

****Last night G had a sleepover with my mom and dad. N was supposed to go but she ended up sick over the weekend and today so G went on his own. Boy, the house was so quiet and peaceful. G stepped in the door and it was back to screeching and fighting and tears. I think we know who is Mr. Excitement around here.

M-isms

2012-02-09T14:51:00.000-08:00

M is talking more and more. Stringing 3 words together now. Still not a great conversationalist but well on his way.

His new thing is to pick his own clothes. When I say, "C'mon, let's get dressed," he will often reply, "Peck." He makes a beeline for his pajama drawer and selects a pajama set for the day. So I change him out of one pajama set and into another. Whatev. N was the queen of mismatch, and G often wears his Optimus Prime costume out and about so M wearing pjs is no big thing.

D started calling him Hugh Hefner, which I think is funny for a couple reasons. First, I actually wanted to name M Hugh. Secondly, given M's penchant for penis playing (which seems to have run its course for the time being), I think it is apropos that he would now be channeling a porn publisher. G asked me who Hugh Hefner was, and I told him he is a magazine publisher who is as old as Papaw Chester and runs around in his pajamas all day long. If I can find a size 3T silk robe for cheap, I am so buying it. We're taking this to the next level, baby.

Homework is gonna kill me

2012-02-08T18:34:00.000-08:00

I now understand the complete torture that is encouraging one's child to do her homework when she is clearly not.in.the.mood. However, we had Girl Scouts tonight, so her homework had to get done.

The homework assignment was pretty difficult--N had to use her spelling words to write a poem or story. Now this may sound easy, but it really takes a considerable amount of imagination because you have to connect completely unrelated words in a coherent and mostly sensible series of paragraphs. This is an assignment I had my 6th graders do (which either means I was a completely awful, way-too-easy teacher or this is truly a difficult assignment for 2nd graders).

Her words were

Boys

Girls

Exaggerate

Foxes

Wolves

Happily

Babies

Glasses

Eggs

Sneakers

Adorable

Patches

Quizzes

Now I don't know if N's issue tonight was 1. she wasn't in the mood for homework, 2. she was frustrated by the assignment, or 3. a combination of both. Or it could have been 4. being tired/getting sick/needing to poop, which are catch-all reasons for why kids often act like shitheads.

I tried to help her by writing up an example for her, but I told her she could not use any of my sentences. It was just to help give her an idea of how she would write it. I also gave her some suggestions of general topics she could write about that would include many of the aforementioned words. For example, I said she could write about a forest or a zoo.

She chose quizzes as her topic and then proceeded to act like a turd because it was understandably hard to connect many of these words to the topic of quizzes.

Bear in mind, while I was dealing with Miss Moodiness, I was also contending with the noise and mayhem of General Disarray and Captain Chaos who will not give us a minutes peace while I try to work on homework with N.

She managed to write up a really good paragraph but at the expense of every strand of my nerves.

Boys and girls take quizzes. Some are about animals like foxes and wolves. Children happily write down their answers. Babies aren't allowdd in classrooms because they mess up stuff. Some quizzes are about bird's eggs and they refer to science. Some people have to wear glasses to help them learn. Maybe somebody wears adorable and lucky sneakers to help them with the quiz. People exaggerate when taking a reading quiz. Some teachers give out patches for doing good and accurate word on their quizzes.

After she wrote the sentence about "they refer to science," she asked, "What does refer mean?" I told her she probably shouldn't use it if she doesn't know its meaning. But she pressed me for what it means, and when I told her she decided she would still use it.

Before they drive....

2012-02-08T12:31:00.000-08:00

Although I do not think about the kids getting older, I did have a moment of inspiration awhile back. It occurred to me that before any of the kids will be allowed to get their driver's licenses they will have to do the following:

1. Be able to do their own laundry for 3 weeks.
2. Be able to prepare 5 meals (not microwavable frozen meals).

With all the car nonsense with which we've been dealing, I also thought that another requirement should be that....

3. They must take a basic automotive care class to be able to change things on the car without always resorting to having a mechanic look at it and take care of it (such as changing wiper blades, changing air filter and whatever else fits into this category of automotive care.) Mom WILL be taking this class with all 3 children, since it will probably take me 3 go-rounds to understand anything about the innards of a vehicle.

And this part goes without saying because I am cheap and had to do this when I had a car at 17---

4. They have to be able to pay for their gas and annual insurance with money they make during the summer.

We Need to Talk About Kevin has me thinking

2012-02-08T12:26:00.000-08:00

I am flying through the novel We Need To Talk About Kevin and think it will make for an excellent discussion at book club next month. This book is giving me much to ponder about having children.

****
One thing I've thought about is how D reminds me a little bit of Eva. I think D is a far nicer, less hard-to-live with person than Eva, but the way in which they are similar is their feelings toward children. D loves our kids--no question--but sometimes I wonder if he would have been happier if we had remained childless or only had one child. Or maybe it is simply that his tolerance level for children's antics is less than mine, just as Eva's tolerance is different from Franklin, who was the one who really wanted a child.
(This is probably more the case; when I speak to my mom friends they all usually say their husbands can handle much less of the children than they can.)

When we married D and I were on similar tracks---neither of us was interested in having children within 5 years, and we thought we'd only want one if we did have a child. But one of us changed, and that was me. (In truth, I think I was a classic case of "the lady doth protest too much." Perhaps I truly wanted a family but was just so, so scared of what that would mean for me emotionally, physically and financially.)

Almost immediately after having N, I felt I wanted 3 children. My breakdown followed in the year after her birth, so for awhile I wasn't thinking about other kids...I just wanted to get my head back together. But by the time N was 2.5 years old, I was healthy and ready for another kid. I think because D really loves me and really hates arguments, he agreed. M was a surprise, but we'd already had the talk about having a 3rd, and while I was on-board for another one when G was around 3, D was more than ready to take the possibility off the table. The funny thing is that M, the baby he was definitely not onboard with having, is the child who most reminds D of himself.

****
Another thing this book is making me think about is how much of a child's personality comes from his/her parents' perceptions of that child. At the moment, and for quite a while, G has been our challenging child. He is a super kid, but he is just more of a challenge for both me and D than the other two. Reading about Kevin makes me wonder about what he is really like outside of Eva's perception of him, from birth until now and how much of her behavior towards him influenced the type of relationship he has with her. They say that a depressed mother can have a huge impact on their child's development, and I would certainly classify Eva as having had postpartum depression, as well as a few other mental health issues thrown in for good measure.

****
This book furthers my belief that everyone could stand a good year of therapy, especially the people who squawk the loudest about not needing it or thinking it wouldn't help them.

Craptacular Day

2012-02-06T12:31:00.000-08:00

As G would say, "Today is a disaster."

Two weeks ago, on Jan 28 I wrote this post.

This morning, I got another flat tire. Fortunately it was not one of the new tires but one of the old tires (although since we bought them in December 2009 they aren't really truly old.) Instead of running errands and getting food prepared to take a meal to a friend who just had a baby, I spent 2.5 hours in a car repair shop with a snotty 2-year-old, getting nothing done. Well, nothing except getting ANOTHER FUCKING NEW TIRE since this one couldn't be repaired. (And I went ahead and got a transmission and coolant flush because $621 wasn't quite enough money spent on the car this month. Why not spend a little more?????)

In the past 30 days I got....
-an oil change and air filter for $75.
- 2 new tires and an alignment for $546.
-1 more new tire, a transmission flush and a coolant flush for $385.

For a grand total of $1006 in a month on a necessary evil. On something I wouldn't even have if this city had a subway or a monorail or a bus transport system that wasn't archaic and impossible.

Whenever an unexpected something comes up with the house, I hate it but we have to have a place to live. We have to have some kind of shelter.

But we don't have to have a car. If we lived somewhere else, if town planners didn't put every store 4 miles away with no sidewalks to get to anywhere, if we had a decent public transport system, if any of these applied I would not have a car.

Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, gets my panties in a twist more than having to spend money on a car. A depreciating hunk of metal that pollutes.

Waiting for Superman--some thoughts

2012-02-03T12:42:00.000-08:00

I have been watching Waiting for Superman piecemeal...every weekend while walking 30 minutes on the treadmill. Anyone who has spent any time in a public school classroom won't find it eye-opening because they see the truths of this documentary on a daily basis.

The film spoke to the problem of tenure and teacher unions, and I tend to agree with them. I generally think what works in the private sector, such as pay for performance and at-will employment, are good things. Of course, I then have to recognize that teachers are held to grossly unfair standards (as this excellent essay attests) and are scapegoats for everything terrible about public education, even when it is not their fault.

Charter schools were discussed in the film, and I don't have a problem with charters in theory. I think an awful lot of people think they are a magic pill that will solve problems that they will not solve.

The parents in the film all really seemed to highly value education, supported their children in their educational endeavors and seemed to keep hitting brick walls. I really, truly felt for them.

The public school problem is complex. It is that some teachers suck, some schools need much more funding, some kids take tests poorly even though they are exceptional students, some parents don't support education, some kids don't fit into the mold of public education as it is in their school.

From my limited experience as both a teacher and a parent, I think there are certain non-negotiable things a parent has to do to ensure your child gets a good education. If I were able to stand in front of a group of parents, this is what I would say:

1. Read every single solitary day (two or more times a day) to your child from the time he/she is an infant and continuing to do it until your child is a teenager. And at that point you should check out the same book your child is reading so you can read it and discuss it with your child.

2. Make your child go to school every single day, including preschool, unless he/she is running a fever or puking. You set a precedent early on that school comes first. And if the child doesn't go to school, he/she doesn't do anything fun like play outside with friends or go to the mall.

3. Stay in contact with the child's teacher. Email, drop in unannounced to the classroom, attend conferences. Essentially, a teacher works for you and your child. Stay on top of what is being done at school. Ask questions. Offer to help however you can. Read the core content. Know what your child is supposed to be learning.

4. Make your home as consistent, scheduled, normal as possible. Regular bedtime. Regular waking time. Regular meals. Regular naps. Boring----yes. Necessary----yes. Once you have a child, your life is not about you for a good long time. Get over it.

5. You think you know your child, and you do, but only to a certain extent. Unless you are a fly on the wall, you do not know what your child is doing or not doing, what the teacher is doing or not doing, in the classroom. You don't have to believe everything the teacher tells you, but you also shouldn't believe everything your child tells you. You have to use detective skills to figure out what is really going on sometimes.

I had a student who told me he was friends with a professional basketball player (whose name escapes me now). I said something like, "Oh sure." The kid kept insisting he knew this famous player, but I wouldn't bite. I soon received a letter from the mom telling me her son was not lying and their family is friends with this famous player, blah, blah, blah. By the tone, I could tell she was highly insulted that I wouldn't believe her precious little boy. I sent a letter home, explaining that I was sorry her son was upset that I didn't believe him but that I would be a fool to believe every single thing students tell me. I didn't mean him any disrespect, but that is just the nature of teaching.

A short time later, this mom did a long-term sub job at our school. Her attitude about believing what students told her changed very quickly.

6. If your gut tells you something is not right about what administration tells you, keep asking. Keep calling. Go as high up as you have to go. Be civil, be extremely polite, but keep asking. Under no circumstances should you get up on your mighty high horse because you might unknowingly be contributing to whatever problems your child is having.

I cannot tell the number of parents who claimed they wanted to do "right" by their kids but ended up hurting them worse by their efforts. Parents who didn't provide as much consistency as the child needed or when they tried to "help" ended up doing the hard work for the child. Parents who didn't want to hurt their child by taking away something the child loved until the grades and behavior improved. Parents who were so wrapped up in their own affairs that they didn't focus on what the child really required.

Waiting for Superman was a good reminder of what can go wrong and right in education, but I believe it only told part of the story.

G-isms

2012-02-03T12:28:00.000-08:00

Midwest Mom inspired me to jot down some of the funny things my preschooler has said lately.

1. "I have a wicked big poop." Said one evening when he soiled his drawers. Thanks to Kevin Hawkes' book, The Wicked Big Toddlah, for giving G the inspiration to use such wonderful terminology for his feces.

2. "Mommy, I have a frog in my nose." Said one morning when he woke up especially stuffy (following a day when I was hoarse due to congestion).

3. "Mommy, I'm gonna stick this up your butt." Said this morning when he was trying to stick a note in my jean pocket.

4. "My eye is leaky." Said this morning when trying to get early morning eye-goo off.

5. "Today is sunny. It is also moony." Said when he noticed both the sun and moon in the sky one afternoon.

The paint--AFTER

2012-02-01T19:47:00.000-08:00

A new coat of paint on the walls is like getting a haircut or new glasses---an easy way to make everything feel fresh and new. (Ok, easy only if someone else does the painting. I'm having a hell of a time getting everything put back in order.)

The paint--before

2012-02-01T19:43:00.000-08:00

The painter was here Monday and Tuesday....which means my house has been disheveled with stuff scattered hither and yon.

Plus, I got a burst of crazy and decided to do a home inventory (something I have been slowly attempting to do for at least a year now). I figured since I couldn't do any of my normal stuff due to the painting, I might as well accomplish something this week.

This is how the living room looked BEFORE the new green paint. It seems like once we got the wood floors installed, borrowed my parents' dark kitchen table, and I bought a friend's dark rug for under the kitchen table, it was just too, too brown everywhere.

Is there a Greek god of money?

2012-01-28T19:47:00.000-08:00

Because if there is, he totally hates me.

I know this because mid-week I got an estimate from a painter to paint the main floor of our house, as well as the stairwell and upstairs hallway. It was a very, very reasonable estimate so I said, "Let's do it!" and gave him a down-payment of a third of the total cost.

Thursday afternoon the lazy susan cabinet door hinge in the kitchen broke. Fortunately, I had a brand new one (from when our other lazy susan cabinet door hinge bit it and I bought a pack of two which have to be special ordered and cost $42), so D was able to fix it Friday morning.

Thursday night, I noticed that the ceiling in our master bath above the toilet was wet. It is never, ever good to have a wet ceiling. Leaky roof. I was able to get a roofer out Friday morning to fix it. I'm waiting for the bill but I'm thinking in the neighborhood of $350-$500.

This morning, on my way out of the neighborhood, I realized I had a flat tire. We had to have it towed. Goodbye $82. Once we got it to the tire place, we said good-bye to an additional $550 due to both of my front tires being flat and/or completely bald even though I get the fuckers rotated every 5,000 miles, the car needing an alignment, AND a new tire sensor.

I'm thankful we have the money saved to pay for this junk, but it sucks nonetheless to have all these unexpected repairs. Time travel would be swell in times like this because I'd go back and tell the painter we'd set a date for April....when I've had time to recover a little bit from all these unplanned account drainers.

The things about being pro-environment I don't like

2012-01-25T12:36:00.000-08:00

I strive to be as eco-conscious as I can without living as suckily as they did in the 1800s. I turn my car off when I am waiting for a prescription in the drive-thru or at the bank to deposit a check. I use cloth bags at stores most of the time. I recycle every other week. I do a local CSA. I buy all my jeans at Plato's Closet rather than buying new.

But there are some pro-environment things about which I have serious issues.....

Like CFL bulbs, which suck. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. If I just have to run into a room quickly, it is not even worth it to turn them on because they are so stinkin' dim until they warm up (which may be how they are pro-environment....people just don't turn on the lights anymore, at all.) Depending on the light fixture, they flicker. Some people have an issue with the way they make paint look on the walls. I'd just like for them to just work somewhat consistently---forget the paint.

And buying local, which is great in theory but IMPOSSIBLE if one has to browse and isn't finding the size she needs for her tall and thin husband (whose birthday is next week). I have made two trips now to find something for him in his size, and I haven't found it at either store. So I wasted gas and time, plus polluted and have nothing to show for it. I could drive to a number of other stores, wasting more gas and time, polluting more AND having to attempt to shop with the Bobo Brothers in tow, or I could do as I just did which is order the wanted item in the correct size from L.L.Bean and have it shipped to my house.

I do use cloth bags as much as possible when shopping, but this means we have fewer plastic bags in which to throw cat crap when the litter boxes are cleaned. I recycle all my bread bags and newspaper bags, but those are too narrow for poop dumping purposes. And I refuse to buy bags just for disposing of animal feces. If my cats weren't so old and set in their ways, I would switch them to the litter that disintegrates with urine and just scoop the poop and flush it.

Oh, I know these are minor annoyances--what one of my FB friends calls, "White People Problems," and I know I am fortunate to have them instead of actual, difficult problems that threaten my way of life and livelihood.

Now that I read what I wrote I realize I sorta sound like Rand Paul bitchin' about toilets and their lack of powerful flushing due to water conservation efforts. I'll stop now.

The New Year itch

2012-01-24T12:29:00.000-08:00

Just as my I Blow My Wad Too Soon post was not about premature ejaculation, this post is not about an STD.

It is about my annual bout of "I MUST DO SOMETHING TO THIS HOUSE OR I MIGHT JUST DIE." It hits at approximately 12:01 a.m. every Jan 1, although I sleep through about 6 hours of it. Once I am out of bed and fully awake, I become aware that I've caught it again, and the only cure for it is pulling some money from the home improvement fund and doling it out to others.

When I was a kid it seemed like my parents did nothing to our house. I'm sure they did, but I also know that my parents are s.l.o.w. when it comes to spending money and/or making decisions that involve the spending of money. They have loosened up considerably now that they aren't putting two kids through Catholic schools.

I find that I am more than a little eager to change things up and make improvements around the house, even though this is borderline insane since the kids tend to make the niceness of new diminish in under 20 minutes. This has certainly been the case with our hardwood floors which we had installed in 2009. I keep repeating the mantra, "Those nicks and scratches are giving the floor character."

It seems I have listened to my mother a bit since she has encouraged me to do things to our home when I get the notion to do them. It seems that as one gets older, the desire to make home improvements often diminishes (my MIL has confirmed this as being her experience as well).

My goal is to find a balance between living now and saving for later or the "what ifs."

I want to enjoy my home, and enjoying my home in 2012 means painting the walls that have 8 years worth of children fingerprints on them as well as the name Jennifer written in pencil at the top of the stairwell wall. (Note to my daughter: I know it was you since you are the tallest child and the only one who can print even remotely recognizable letters. Duh.)

The painter was just here and gave me a very reasonable estimate given the amount of painting I am wanting to have done (basically our entire first floor).

I have found that when it comes to this itch, it is better to just scratch it and be done.

Sleep challenges throughout my life

2012-01-22T19:02:00.000-08:00

My mom says I didn't sleep for the first 3 months of my life except when my dad would let me snuggle on his chest. Fortunately, he was able to fall asleep in the recliner with me all warm and cozy on him. Mom says that the first night I slept through the night, she and my dad both sat up in bed at the same time in the morning. Mom asked, "Did you get up with her?," and Dad replied, "No, did you get up with her?" Then they ran to my room because they knew I was dead. Or at least that is how the story goes almost 40 years later.

I guess I slept ok for some of my childhood, although I clearly remember the period of my life when the OCD started kicking in gear. I remember checking the doors to ensure they were locked, checking windows, checking the basement, trying to push the anxiety of the night and the quiet away. I remember when I could only sleep if I had the sheet pulled up over my ear. I remember how I loved the attic fan because it made a terrible racket that I found quite soothing because it drowned out the silence of the house and the worry of my head.

Eventually my sleep pattern settled down or the anxiety abated a bit and I slept well.

Since becoming a mom, my sleep has been shit. I have been taking a half Unisom for years, every single night. G still wakes me at least once a night, religiously. The Unisom helps keep me drowsy enough that I can deal with him and fall back asleep. Of course if I am experiencing stress, like the Girl Scout saga, my brain picks right back up as soon as it is awakened and I lay in bed for at least an hour just letting the ruminations do their thing. I have stopped worrying about going back to sleep.....When will I fall back asleep? Will I ever fall back asleep?

As I lay there, I have what amounts to a smallish panic attack. My heart races, and I have trouble slowing down my breathing. But I seem to have finally managed the anxiety of not sleeping. I know that the panic will subside, and I will doze off again although it is entirely likely that soon after I fall back asleep someone will wake me again.

When I feel especially run-down I take a whole Unisom. Even though I sleep great, I am groggy and in a pretty terrible mood upon waking until I get 2 cups of coffee in me.

I keep some prescription sleeping pills on stand-by mostly for when I have a bad cold. I have found that if I take Unisom when I have a cold, it dries up my nose wonderfully but does nothing to help me fall and stay asleep. I guess the antihistamine is working so much on my sinus cavity it can't also do what it needs to for my brain.

Eventually my children will stop waking me through the night and I will hopefully enjoy a few restful years before they begin dating and driving and I am back to sleeping poorly until I hear them come through the front door.

What becomes of them

2012-01-22T08:22:00.000-08:00

I only taught for about four years. I sometimes wish I had taught longer, but that would mean I wouldn't have my N or I would have had to start teaching prior to age 27, and I think if I had been a teacher straight out of undergrad I would have sucked.

For many years I didn't hear anything about former students. Perhaps I was too busy with my anxiety issues and riding the learning curve of new motherhood to pay attention to the newspaper or anything much beyond my own four walls.

In the past six months or so, I have learned about the life paths of three of them.

One, a young male whom I briefly taught while student teaching, shot and killed himself in a McDonald's after confronting a girlfriend who worked there. I was not in the least surprised by this because in sixth grade he was already quite a mess. Constantly in trouble, terrible attitude, eager to fight with teachers and students alike.

Another, a young girl I taught, was recently selected for a local honor and featured in our newspaper. I sent her a message on Facebook and congratulated her. She has about 4 majors in college and is absolutely beautiful. She reminded me of a book I read the students, a book about which I had completely forgotten. It was nice that she had a pleasant memory of her time in my class.

This past week I learned of another former female student who was killed in a fiery car crash on her 23rd birthday. I was, and am still, stunned and saddened.

I wonder about my former students quite often, hoping that their life paths have been mostly smooth. I hope that for the most troubled of them I provided a safe shelter, a consistency they could rely on at least for a few hours during the day. I hope that for the most promising I saw their talent and encouraged it.

It would be nice to learn about what happened to others, but at the same time, it is heartbreaking to learn of the ones who didn't make it or are well on their way to violent or criminal ends.

Ignorance is probably best.

N's story ending

2012-01-20T18:03:00.000-08:00

N brought home a paper the other day. The assignment, at least as I understood it, was to write a different ending to a story she had read, Westward to Oregon by Patricia Pfitsch. Her teacher had written "Outstanding Story!" at the top. For a second grader, I thought it was pretty darn good--better than some of the stuff my former 6th grade students wrote when I was a teacher.

Lizzie was driving the wagon slowly. She thought it would be better to go slowly for Papa. "Go faster," said Mama. "We better get there the snow comes." she said as she rubbed water on Papa. Jerimiah was listening to the wind blow. Lizzie was trying hard not to go slow. She knew the snow would come soon. They were half way up the mountain. Papa was still hurting. "We are almost there!" Lizzie cried. Lizzie kept driving. Finally, they were over the mountain. They could see the beautiful land. They saw Mr. Jenkins and the rest of the people. From their faces, Mr. Jenkins knew they had found Papa. Everybody got something to cure him.

Yesterday I received my next magazine assignment to write about the early elementary stage of childhood, and I had nothing but good to say about N as a 7- (almost 8) year-old. Her heiney hygiene may be lacking, but her writing is a good example of just how amazing this stage is.

Doing my children a disservice or giving them a great blessing?

2012-01-18T12:26:00.000-08:00

I am now an officially trained, full-on Girl Scout troop leader. I was surprised that the former leader said she didn't want to split the girls up and would turn over leadership responsibilities to me and my co-leader DV.

The past two weeks have been pretty darn stressful. I agreed to write an article for a magazine on a Thursday afternoon, and on Saturday morning my uncle passed away. So the following week was a combination of 1.attending wakes and funerals, 2. writing articles, and 3. trying to figure out all this Girl Scout business and get trained.

With all this going on, I started thinking about what example I set for my children and what high expectations I will have of them as they grow older. At ages 7, 4 and 2, I think my expectations are age-appropriate. But I know full well that as they mature I will expect them to, "Say what they mean, and mean what they say."

I will also expect them to follow these guidelines in living:

"Your reputation and integrity are everything. Follow through on what you say you’re going to do. Your credibility can only be built over time, and it is built from the history of your words and actions."
— Maria Razumich-Zec

I had the thought that maybe my expectations are too high. Isn't this a lot to put on a kid?

But then it occurred to me that someone had the same expectations of me when I was young. My parents were models of this behavior....if they said they were gonna do something, they followed through. If they were going to do a job, they did it to the best of their ability. The people who know my parents think highly of them because of their trustworthiness, their responsibility, their reliability. I think the people who know me would likely say the same.

And that is not at all too much to expect of my children.

What pride and ego would like me to do, and what is really, truly do-able

2012-01-18T12:09:00.000-08:00

So awhile back I blogged about my freelancing job, which I am now calling a job because it has become pretty darn regular. And that's a good thing.

I have a regular column that I write in TF, plus when my editors like my pitches, I often have an additional article to write.

Last week, I got an email from the editor from another of these local magazines (there are 3 within the same publishing family) who asked if I could write an article for TW . The deadline was tight--8 days--but I did it.

Yesterday I received an email from this same editor who asked if I would like to become a regular writer for the 3rd magazine, TT.

And while my ego went, "YAHOO! I am AWESOME!," my heart and the intuitive pit in my stomach went, "Ugh."

Between my twice a week exercise class, my regular freelancing work for TF, my position on the neighborhood board, volunteer work I do at N's school, piano lessons and now official Girl Scout troop leader, my months and weeks are plum full. Plus, I have the boy' playgroups and all that regular ole junk associated with being a mom....like laundry and mopping and vacuuming.

I gave up going to monthly bunco and I gave up going out to dinner with a small group of friends who used to be in my MOMS Club group, which I was doing every other month. G graduating from speech has freed up our Friday mornings. But I am still very busy.

One of the best parts of being a stay-at-home mom, besides the awesomely comfortable uniform of jeans/sweats/yoga pants, is that I am in charge of the schedule. I am my own boss. If I don't feel like doing laundry today, I don't do it. If I don't feel like sweeping, I don't. Unless it is a doctor's appointment, if we decide we don't want to do it, we don't do it.

Committing to another writing job would ramp up my stress level and make me feel like I was edging further into the realm of things I have to do. A nagging voice in my head kept saying things like, "This opportunity may not come around again," and "They are gonna think you aren't committed or a team-player."

I had to remind this naggy voice that I made the decision almost 8 years ago to be a stay-at-home mom, and I am committed still to this decision. I had to remind the voice that the opportunity to be at home while my children are young will not come around again ever. It truly is now or never for this.

I feel guilty enough about how little face-time I seem to give my boys when compared with their sister. And this guilt would be worse if I committed to another writing job.

I really have to hand it to women who work full-time outside the home and manage as much as they do, especially when their kids are very young. I just don't have it in me. I sometimes feel that maybe this makes me weak and makes other moms who make different choices strong.

If it is weakness, I feel strong in the knowledge that I know what I can and cannot handle and act on this information accordingly.

I blow my wad too soon

2012-01-15T04:35:00.000-08:00

You'd think I was a man writing about sexual problems.

But my problem has nothing to do with that.

Enthusiasm is great, and my general pattern is to be very enthusiastic about things I begin. When I began my first "real" job at 21, I completed the 3-month training period in under a month. I just plowed into the work and got good quickly. Same thing could be said of my first years as a teacher....I like to think I was mostly stellar. (My former co-workers can argue with this line of thinking, if they'd like.)

The downside of this trait is that I tire of things quickly too. Being extremely gung-ho is simply not sustainable over the long-term. One cannot continue to operate at this level forever.

Just like my other jobs, I think I've blown much of my mothering wad.

When I only had N, I was gung-ho.....overly gung-ho. Deeply wounded when I had to be away from her. Eager to engage with her almost constantly.

Now, two additional kids and almost 8 years later, I find myself easily distracted by my freelancing work. I find myself spending time planning Girl Scout activities because it engages my mind in learning and educating others. I religiously attend twice a week exercise class instead of doing music or exercise classes with my boys or taking them places to play as I did with N.

On the one hand I feel sorta guilty about this because I do not give as much of my focus to G and M as I did N. I recognize that some of this is simply, "The way it is." It would be impossible to give the boys as much of my time and focus as I did N. Having three kids triples (at least) the amount of laundry, clean-up, food purchasing and preparation, etc.

I also recognize that it isn't always a good thing to devote so much attention to a child. M, perhaps because he is the 3rd kid, is really good at occupying himself, and that is a great skill to have.

Finally, I recognize that after 8 years of doing anything, you get tired and bored and need to change things around....hence the freelancing and volunteering and exercise. I know that working full-time would add more stress and be completely detrimental to me and my family, so I do what I am able to do to jazz things up for me without causing unbearable stress and still allowing my kids to be with me most of the time.

Lord knows, I am still very devoted to my boys. We do playgroups and read together and snuggle and love on each other. Based on how my boys act when I've been gone for awhile, they are truly "Momma's boys" who think I am the only one who can care for them properly.

I guess what I need to remember about myself is that maybe I'm not as gung-ho excited about stay-at-home mothering as I was 5+ years ago, but I don't give up. I try to re-invent the days, switch things up to keep momma happy, and continue on with what I have committed to do.

And that isn't such a bad thing.

The new turd 'round these parts

2012-01-13T18:08:00.000-08:00

Today M screamed, cried, hollered "Mah-ee" (Mommy) and was a highly disagreeable little turd from the time I dropped G off for speech therapy until over an hour later when I went to pick G up and have his exit meeting (he has "graduated" from speech therapy with significant improvement in under a year----HURRAY!).

I ran into Target to pick up some photos I had developed, and the employee asked me if I had other shopping to do. M was in his snowsuit, coat and hat, but had only his socks on because he had flung his boots off before I ever got him out of the car, and was flailing in front of the customer service counter whining and crying. I looked down at him, looked up at her, and said, "No, I believe I am done."

M is at that delightful stage where if I ask him if he wants something like a drink or his pacifier he yells, "NO!" Since he has declined the item, I remove it which causes him to scream for whatever it is, as if he desperately needs it in order to survive. But when I hand it back towards him, he says, "NO!"

This happens at least 4,000 times a day.

Like G at the same age, when he is completely pissed he bangs his head on the ground or on the wall and then runs over screaming even louder because it hurt.

Lord only knows what sets him off but he has a maddening ability to just keep carrying on and on and on. I thought for sure this morning he would eventually wear himself out and shut up but it was literally a full hour of screaming and fussing. And, believe me, I was checking my watch....mostly because I had to pick up G from speech but also because I was waiting for the toddler torture to end.

It is hard to reconcile this raving maniac of a child with the sweet little one who asks me every night to sing him "Fiddle-I-Fee" (which he just calls "Fee") before I put him into his crib. The one who adds all the animal sounds and then says, "Ock Bay-bee," which is his way of asking me to sing "Rock-a-Bye Baby." The one who I hear at 5:00 in the morning going "HI-YAH" in his crib, apparently doing judo on the little Mickey Mouse stuffed animal that we keep in M's crib.

Given all the craziness that was G the last two years, I really don't know if I have it in me to handle this 2-year-old and eventual 3-year-old insanity.

Well, I guess I have no choice but to handle it, but it won't be graceful or pretty.

The common denominator is me (also titled: I can't keep my mouth shut)

2012-01-12T18:32:00.000-08:00

Whenever I hear of someone who has married more than 2 times I think to myself that the "problem" with the marriages is likely the person who has been married the most times---either that person is a pita or that person continues to not learn from his/her mistakes and keeps choosing marriage partners who really aren't well-suited to him or her.

When patterns repeat themselves over and over again, I look for the commonality between the patterns.

It has just dawned on me that I am now the common denominator.

Lord knows I don't want to rehash all the sh*t that went down with two of my neighborhood friends in 2008. (See minefield and rant)

In both of those situations, I stood up and spoke out for something I believe in....my daughter and common sense. And in both of those situations, I lost a friend, although the argument could be made that I wasn't truly friends with either of these women. We were friendly because of a playgroup. Being a parent sometimes puts you in close contact and "friends" with people you may or may not have been friends with of your own accord.

Moving along to this new situation.....

N has been in a Girl Scout troop since 2009. I was due to deliver M in October of that year so I knew I wasn't up to leading, co-leading or doing much other than nursing a newborn and trying to keep my sanity intact since G was only two. For the first year, my MIL took N to her troop meetings.

Once M got bigger and wasn't at my breast constantly, I started taking N to troop meetings, and I offered to help the troop leader as I could.

Over time I began to notice that the girls didn't seem to be working toward patches, and I felt and feel that this is part of the big fun of being a Girl Scout---setting a goal, doing neat activities and earning a patch to put on one's vest or sash. There were also some issues with follow through---as in plans were discussed or made but nothing was ever actually accomplished. For example, last summer the girls planted seeds with the intent of doing a community garden, but the troop leader never contacted any of us over the summer about actually planting the plants. So the seeds sprouted, the plants grew for awhile and then all of us threw them out when they died.

Last year, two of the girls left the troop specifically because their mothers were sick of the disorganization of the troop meetings and that the troop wasn't doing anything to earn patches. When I saw one of the moms a few weeks after they left at a school function she said, "You all don't know what you are missing. This troop is so much better."

N very much likes the girls in her troop (one she has known and played with since preschool), so I didn't like the idea of abandoning the troop completely. But I did ask the troop leader if I could plan some activities for the girls.

Since September I have been planning every single meeting for the troop. In those few months the girls accomplished more than they did in all the months preceding (back to the late summer of 2009).

But I have been growing increasingly frustrated because when I'd ask how much money was in our account so I could plan some extra activities I was never given an answer. In September I asked if we had registered the troop because I didn't remember filling out a form; this email got no response. I felt like it was nearly impossible for me to be in the "know" for planning purposes if I'm not receiving emails about local Girl Scout events or getting answers to my questions.

The clincher came in the past 3 weeks when the troop leader "forgot" about selling Girl Scout cookies. The girls still have not gotten the order forms---I've been taking orders and writing them on a copy I made of last year's order sheet.

So I called the local Girl Scout office thinking I could just go pick some up to bring to this week's meeting and I was told our troop wasn't registered. (Despite my email which, to my way of thinking, should have served as a reminder way back in September.)

This is the proverbial straw.

To make a long story short, another troop mom (DV) and I will be trained this weekend with the intention of starting a new troop.

Last night I emailed the current troop leader to ask if I could take over the troop with DV as my co-leader. In no way do I expect her to go for this, but if all 4 of the girls go to the new troop it leaves the current leader's daughter by herself. And I think it really sucks for this girl to no longer have a troop just because of adult difficulties.

It sucks that something as innocuous as Girl Scouts can become such a stressful headache. Such a drama. It sucks that this has caused me to lose a friendly acquaintance. She and I were certainly not best friends or even "real" friends, but it doesn't make anyone feel good to know someone wouldn't give them quarter.

This is now 3 burned bridges with me being the common denominator, and I have to wonder....what is it with me????

I know what it is with me....I don't let things go. I don't back down. I am too honest. I always strive to be civil and polite, but I also say what I think. And I blog, which further pisses off someone who was already pissed off at me (even though I never name names).

When I look back on the "Friendship Fallout of 2008," I don't regret saying or doing anything I did. It's not in me to just let things go. If it was, I would not be so well medicated. I have truly reflected on these events far more than I perhaps should have. I don't like people to dislike me, to have a bad opinion of me.

But the bigger truth is that I don't want to have a bad opinion of myself. And sometimes not being honest and not doing what I feel is right and best would lessen my opinion of myself.

So I just deal with the fallout. Have a few nights of poor sleep. Blog about it.
And move on.

The Bobo Brothers

2012-01-10T19:01:00.000-08:00

For Christmas, M received a bunch of Diego books. Anyone who has read a Diego book knows that the Bobo Brothers often make an appearance.

The Bobo Brothers are monkeys that are always, always creating mischief of some sort such as bouncing on a half-broken branch on which a sloth is clinging in a windstorm. They are merry and laughing and generally unaware that they are complete simian hellions.

As my boys get bigger, they are increasingly Bobo-like.

For the past two days, it has been nice enough after lunch for the three of us to go outside and play in the yard. G and M have played in the sandbox, chased bubbles, pushed or rode their bikes down the driveway at breakneck speed, run around the arborvitae and swung on the swings. Even though this freakishly warm weather for January makes me worry about the pending doom of global warming, hearing my boys' peals of laughter and camaraderie does my fretful heart good. As exhausting as they are because they never.ever.stop.moving, I delight in their roughness in the great outside.

Last man standing

2012-01-08T13:17:00.000-08:00

Saturday was a day of receiving sad news. My uncle, my mother's brother, passed away. He was 81 and had been in poor health for awhile. My own bout with gestational diabetes certainly made me more aware of sugar and my eating habits, but hearing about Uncle B's 3 times a week dialysis scared the shit out of me. Diabetes is a scary, scary disease.

His death makes my mother the last of her siblings to remain living, which has to be a sad "honor" to have. She was one of 6 to survive childhood (an infant sibling died at around a month old). Her oldest brother G died in the 1970s of a heart attack, I believe. The brother J who was 3 years older than my mom died of esophageal cancer. I'm not sure what the cause of her other brother J's death. Her sister had dementia and had been in a nursing home for years. And now Uncle B is gone.

Mom told me when she spoke to her nephew (who is only 18 months younger than her) about B's passing, he said, "Well you know what this means?" and mom replied, "Yes, that we're the next to go." Apparently his thinking was that now my mom and he are the oldest living relatives in the family, but I got my positive thinking from someone....and it was obviously my mother.

While I am sad for B's wife and sons and grandchildren, I am also sad for my mother, and even for me. Because time marches on and age catches up with us all. Because loss is an integral part of life. Because it is a reminder to me that somehow I am 3 someones' mother and almost 40, and my mother will be 74 this year. Because one day I will lose my parents or my children or my spouse.

And that is a terrible benefit of being left standing.

Does this mean I'm gonna die soon?

2012-01-06T19:39:00.000-08:00

Today has been a day of all sorts of good news.

This morning I learned that next Friday G will be having his last speech therapy session followed by his exit evaluation/meeting. In less than a year, he has gone from a slobbery mush-mouth to an age-appropriate pretty articulate little kid.

In N's folder was a note from her art teacher stating that N's artwork is being entered into a local (and pretty prominent) museum's art contest. She was one of 5 students selected from all the second graders at her school.

Wow! Superb news! Exciting!

To prove that OCD and generalized anxiety cannot be eliminated, only relieved, by antidepressants, I did have the thought, "Surely all this good news means I am gonna die soon because things cannot possibly be going so well without something horrible happening." Old catastrophic thinking habits die hard. I was able to swish it away with my great Jedi-Lexapro force, but the fact that it still reared its head is always a little disappointing. I may feel cured, but I ain't and never will be.

Of course the something horrible could just be the weather, which is freakishly warm for January and surely a sign of humanity's doom. Most people enjoy the days of 65 degree temps in winter, but they set me into short panic spasms.

Dammit, it's January. We need some snow if for no other reason than to lull me into a false sense of security that global warming may not really be real (despite endless scientific studies showing it is).

Somebody seems to be winning today's irrationality fight, and it's not the medicated side of my brain.

I really didn't expect to be this busy

2012-01-05T12:08:00.000-08:00

Being a mother is all about realizing how dumb I am. How little I know even though I've been doing this gig for almost 8 years.

When I was pregnant with N and started looking for fabric for her nursery, I picked a cute yellow fabric with alphabet letters and animals. I clearly remember thinking, "This should last until she is about 5 years old."

HARDY-HAR-HAR.

It lasted until she was almost 3 and decided that she was down with Disney Princesses. I didn't realize how quickly children move from blathering blobs to small people with actual personalities and opinions.

And now, here I am again---realizing how little I know.

All of a sudden, our weeks are plum full of activities in the evenings. Mondays nights are piano lessons for me and N. Every other Wednesday night is Girl Scouts. Every 3rd Wednesday evening I have my neighborhood board meeting. Every 1st Thursday night is my book club. The first Tuesday of every month is dinner at Papaw's house.

This sounds very scattered until this week when we have piano lessons, Papaw's, my book club and an extra Girl Scout event on Friday night.

So something has to go, and it is book club, which on the one hand saddens me because this is "my" event, but it also relieves me because it is one less thing on my mental calendar.

I didn't expect that when I have an almost 8-year-old, a 4-year-old and a 2-year-old, my life would be so dang busy with activities. G's preschool on Mondays and Tuesdays and speech class on Fridays. M's playgroup on Wednesdays and G's playgroup on Thursdays. My exercise classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

I thought the kids would all be older, perhaps in middle school, when I would feel like I was constantly on the go, driving hither and yon, taking them to activities.

Of course some of this feeling of "What the hell is going on????" could be due to us having done absolutely nothing during the last two weeks of December. I am off my game and slowly having to re-acclimate to the schedule, the routine.

Just as I'm being mindful of clutter and saying "no" to more tangible stuff, I am also going to have to be mindful of those occasions, like this week, when there are more things to do than what feels right.

Keeping only what you love or is practical

2012-01-05T11:52:00.000-08:00

I take pride in the fact that we have nothing in our attics (we have one over the bedrooms and one over the garage). Well, we do have an antenna in one of them so that we can get more than just 4 television channels since we long ago got rid of satellite/cable television, but that is the only thing up there.

There are no holiday decorations, no knick-knacks, no old clothing, no old furniture.

This is not to say that we don't have any of this stuff, but it is in our basement storage area, which is pretty limited in size.

We never stored anything in our attic in our first house either.

There is something about the idea of attic storage that makes me think of fires and safety and it sorta gives me the heebie-jeebies to even consider putting boxes and boxes of flammable materials up there. Not that the stuff we have in the basement couldn't go up in flames, but somehow fire being under my feet is slightly less heart-attack inducing than fire being above my head as I sleep.

In some parallel universe, I think I am a professional organizer (or a financial consultant since I love talking budgets and savings and meeting money goals). Of course organizing is enjoyable when you really like de-cluttering, saying sayonara to unused stuff. Some people with OCD do the hoarding thing, but clutter is what makes me feel anxious.

D and I rearranged our basement furniture over the Christmas break. As part of that project, I pulled out more than 50 books that had been taking up space on our bookshelves. Some of them I read in college and didn't remember. Some of them I had read for book club and didn't really like enough to make them part of my book family. The ones that are staying are books I truly, truly adore (like Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights), books that are classics and have stood the test of time (Treasure Island), and more modern books that I really, really liked (The Secret Life of Bees).

I guess the theme of 2011 was to rid myself of stuff, the extraneous that doesn't really matter now.

When my 20-year high school reunion neared in June 2011, I went through all the photos and albums I had saved from high school and trashed probably 94% of it. Pictures of my high school friends and their dates at dances (and even numerous pictures of me with my dates at dances) simply aren't important anymore.

As I enter 2012, I am trying to be mindful of how little I need and that much of what makes me the happiest and most content is not stored in drawers and bins and compartments.

Goals, not resolutions

2011-12-30T04:52:00.000-08:00

I don't like the word "resolutions" because it sounds too serious, to committal. Goals, I think, is a much more, "Well, I'll give it a whirl" word. This is my semantics discussion for the day.

Some people are very goal-oriented, and some people are not. I am in the former category. I think this is why I like saving money because it takes awhile and gives me something to constantly work towards.

Although my anxiety is certainly better managed than its ever been before, setting goals gives me something to focus on besides worry, besides all the things I cannot control in life. Setting goals makes me feel like I gave a grasp on something.

Some of my goals for 2012 are--

1. to exercise 1 extra day a week (on the treadmill) for 30-45 minutes.

2. to learn to play Happy Birthday on the piano (although with D's help I figured it out last night so I shall say I want to become really excellent at playing it).

3. to read Charles' Dickens A Tale of Two Cities.

4. to paint the basement.

5. to switch the kids' bedrooms so that G and M will share a bedroom and N will have a room all to herself.

6. to make 2 extra house payments (in an attempt to pay this sucker off in 10 years).

I am always glad to see Christmas vamoose so that I can enjoy the days between it and New Year's Day. There is something about the promise of what is to come that I relish. It feels exciting and wonderful.

Oh, geesh, I'm talking like an optimist or something.

I'll complain about my body as I eat another plate of Christmas cookies

2011-12-28T18:58:00.000-08:00

Overall, I am not the kind of person who pays much mind to my personal appearance.

I have some standards, although just barely. I do not wear my pajama pants out in public (and I don't count walking out to my mailbox to retrieve the newspaper at 7:30 a.m. as going out in public).

I keep my hair short because it looks best on me. I do not wear makeup because it makes my face itch. I wear clothes that are comfortable. That is my personal appearance philosophy in a nutshell.

In general, I think I am pretty fit. It has been almost 2 years since I have been working out with a trainer in a group fitness "bootcamp" at a friend's house. I started it when M was about 6 months old. In the early days, Eric, the trainer, had us squat up against the wall and hold the pose. OMG! It just about killed me.....my thighs would shake and daggers of pain would shoot up to my hip. I had to pant to get through planks. I was on the thin side but extremely out of shape.

At first I could only commit to 1 day a week for a half-hour. Now I go 2 times a week, for an hour each time. My goal for 2012 is to add another day of exercise in.....30-45 minutes on the treadmill, probably on a weekend day when D is at home and can keep the kids from bugging me. While I would love to commit to more, the truth is that I am still woken up during the night at least once every single night and G usually has me up for the day at 6:00 a.m. Once M is in preschool and I am getting consistently restful sleep I can do more......but not until then.

I am proud of being able to do as much as I do.

But even though my arms and legs are more cut and my A1C level has gone down, my abdomen bugs the absolute SHIT out of me. And I hate it that I allow my mid-section to bug me.

I know why my mid-section bulges---the 3 babies who grew there, the uterus that still lives there, and my poor posture. If my breasts were bigger, I don't think I'd pay much attention to my abdomen. But with my breasts being naturally small and now terribly saggy, they don't stick out enough for me to think my mid-section looks small in comparison.

Even though I'd like for my abs to look better, I am not willing to starve myself or do cardio 7 days a week (for the aforementioned reasons). When I get all hung-up about how thin people look in magazines, I have to remind myself that I would look amazing too if my livelihood depended on me looking hot and having an awesome body and if I were airbrushed and Photoshopped to within an inch of my life.

I recognize that is is pretty stupid to focus on one part of my body that I don't think looks so great when 90% of me looks pretty darn good.....at least when compared to the general population.

My mom, who will be 74 this spring, said she has finally reached the age where she just doesn't care anymore, and that is nice to know. It is nice to know there will come a time when I just won't care. I won't focus on any part of my body and what it looks like because it will all look old.

Ok, now I'm not depressed about my abs. Just the prospect of aging and death.

Scenes from Christmas 2011

2011-12-27T19:04:00.000-08:00

Multitasking......eating peppermint sticks/lollipops and playing with Wheelie toy from Mamaw.

She wanted a La-La-Loopsy doll. I don't know why since she doesn't play with dolls. But her Mamaw got her one which provoked joy.....

and tears.

Good grief.

The teen years are gonna be brutal, I can already tell.

Mommy and Daddy got the boys some "new to them" Geotrax track and buildings.

(Santa brings brand new gifts; Mommy, as expected, goes craiglist.)

N has been enjoying the Mad Libs.

M is the sssslllloooooooooooowwwest present opener around.

Mommy bought each of the kids a Disney ornament from our vacation in June 2011. N's was Princess Tiana, G's was Mike & Sully, and M's was Mickey Mouse.

A shared gift.

Santa brought M a "hed," as M calls it.

She has been asking for a pillow pet for at least 2 years; she finally got one.

A new Marvel villain from Santa....Doc Ock.

The grinch in me still lives

2011-12-24T10:30:00.000-08:00

I loved Christmas as a kid until I stopped getting toys as gifts.

After that, Christmas was mostly a form of torture---being stuck in my house with my family, all of whom were perfectly able and willing to go off and entertain themselves (a skill I only learned in the past few years). I think Christmas is part of the reason I liked the idea of having a larger than 2 children family.

As a young adult, I was more or less a grinch. But the truth is I was kinda grinchy about everything. Christmas just made it worse than usual.

And then I became a mom. Once N came along, and certainly once she got old enough to understand Santa and the fun of opening gifts, Christmas became enjoyable.

Now with 3 children, Christmas is full of activity. Children make Christmas magical for their parents.

But with this holiday season having been in full swing for a month now, my inner grinch is starting to poke his head out.

For example:
1. I am itching to take all these infernal Christmas decorations down. About 3 weeks is all I can stand of holiday decor.

2. I am sick of other people being on the roads. One of the greatest benefits of being a stay-at-home mom is being able to be out and about when kids are at school and the majority of other adults are at work.

3. These same people on the roads are also in the stores, and while I long ago completed my shopping, I did have to pick up our Christmas morning doughnuts at the bakery this morning.....along with 10,000 other people. One particular dumb-ass was picking up pies for someone else and didn't know what exactly he was picking up so had to make a mobile phone call while in line (with MANY of his fellow shoppers behind him). And then he also had to order a latte and a cinnamon twist, which he could have done earlier when he was standing in front of the case instead of waiting until he was in the check-out line. He got a little huffy at the bakery staff for not hearing his latte/twist order, but apparently his head is stuffed very far up his own tail because he didn't seem to notice that everyone behind the counter was a little harried due to the 10,000 other customers behind him.

4. The kids holiday break should begin on Christmas Eve so that they have only 1 day of being home and not having new toys. Not being in routine and not having much to do (because of the aforementioned traffic and people that makes their mother refuse to go out in all the mess) are a recipe for occasional bouts of inspired cooperative play but mostly bickering, which drives their mother bonkers.

So I will enjoy this evening and tomorrow and then be ready to move on with normal life.
Although I will have to wait until Jan 3 to actually do so.

Gingerbread lean-tos

2011-12-23T17:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday N and I made gingerbread dough.

This morning, N, G and I rolled the dough and cut out shapes for our gingerbread houses (plus some Christmas trees, stars, snowflakes and gingerbread men).

This afternoon, N and G made and decorated gingerbread ~~houses~~ lean-tos. I'm sure there are some gingerbread squatters living inside.

This was the first time we've ever attempted this, so I wasn't sure how it was gonna go. Fortunately, given my penchant for pathetic looking birthday cakes, the kids had no problem with the houses not looking picture perfect.

The kids did really well. They helped me unwrap candies and put them in little bowls. They helped carry the bowls to the table. They each waited patiently while I was helping the other one. It was remarkably calm and fun. Oh, and messy.

D served as photographer/camcorder operator/gingerbread house critic.

Breaking up the peppermint pieces.

The kids putting candies in dishes. Oh, and eating the candy too.

Everything all laid out....ready to go.

N's house before her high-style decorating was added.

G's BEFORE picture.

Working.....

Still working.....

G's finished house.

N's finished house.

Me and my big ideas

2011-12-20T12:29:00.000-08:00

In my 38 years, I have discovered that I often get ideas that seem to come from nowhere. I just get a notion of something I'd like to do. Soon after this idea takes seed in my mind, it seems there are always these strange conversations with people or I meet a person with a skill or information that reinforces whatever idea was taking shape in my head. These serendipitous events make me think that I should run with my idea. That maybe this is the universe saying, "Go for it."

I always, always listen to these instinctive gut reactions I have.

My most recent "big idea" started in the late summer/early fall. I determined that it was important to me that my children be exposed to a musical instrument. Neither of my parents play instruments so they never encouraged it. As a child I took 10 years of dance lessons but never had any desire to do music. I attended Catholic school from grade 1 to 12 that did not offer band or orchestra (another reason why I'm pro-public education). Our music classes were students singing. I don't even remember being instructed on how to play the kazoo.

As an adult, my lack of musicality bothers me. I wish I could play some kind of instrument. In the weeks after college before I found a full-time job, I began taking guitar lessons but once a steady paycheck and 9-5 hours called, I dropped them. After I had N, I took an adult education guitar class for awhile.

As it normally happens, after this idea began taking shape in my head, I happened to meet someone at a dinner with friends who teaches piano to children. I was telling her how I'd like for my kids to learn an instrument, and she gave me some information about piano lessons. Serendipitous event #1.

A few weeks afterwards, I met my oldest and dearest friend for breakfast. She plays piano, and her husband is a music teacher. I told her about my big idea and about what this friend of friends told me at dinner. I mentioned something about renting a piano. Kris informed me that once her husband's home sold, they would be needing to get rid of his piano (since she has one in her house where they now live), and maybe D and I could buy theirs. Serendipitous event #2.

Fast forward 4 months or so, and we now have an upright piano sitting in our dining room. N and I are scheduled to begin piano lessons on Jan 2.

Like my fitness "boot-camp" classes I take with a couple friends under the guidance of a trainer, I need the structure of lessons and being accountable to people other than myself. By taking lessons with N, I will be far more likely to practice because I want to set a good example for her. We can support each other in our efforts.

I don't expect either of us to become Chopin but it would be nice to be able to play the Happy Birthday song or a Christmas carol.

Let's hope this big idea works out as well as some of my other big ideas of the past.

Recording that which is precious to me

2011-12-19T19:12:00.000-08:00

The beauty of keeping journals for the kids is that periodically I can read back and remember the cute or hilarious things they did. I'm thinking this will come in especially handy when they are teenagers and I can't stand them.

I hope that these journals give them a sense of what they were like and what their childhood was like once they are adults.

People have asked me how I have time to journal and blog. Since I don't watch television and don't play games online and don't send texts or talk on my cell phone, it leaves me plenty of time to write.

When I only had N, I definitely wrote longer entries about the things she did. With 3 kids, I sometimes only write a sentence or two.

Here are some of the things I jotted down. It is funny to see how their words and language has changed over time.

5/10/06--N's journal, she was 2-and-a-half
You noticed Daddy's "equipment." He was getting out of the shower and you gave him a quizzical look. I asked what you were looking at and you said, "Daddy's ponytail."

5/21/06--N's journal; she was 2-and-a-half
Just now I put you down for your nap. You said, "I love you lady."

5/31/07--N's journal; she was 3-and-a-half
On Sunday morning daddy was grinding coffee beans. You said, "Mommy, tell daddy to stop---he's giving me a headache."

7/23/07--N's journal; she was 3-and-a-half
To encourage you to throw your clothes in the hamper, we tell you to shoot a basket. Whenever you do so, you say, "I made a shoot."

7/6/10--G's journal; he was 2-and-a-half
You love watching the Thomas the Train movie, "Hero of the Rails." But you call it "Hero of the Handrails."

10/28/10--G's journal; he was 3
You started eating a cupcake but then got distracted by something else and left most of it on your plate. So I gave the bottom part to M. You eventually came back and said you wanted your cupcake, so I gave you what was left...basically the icing with only a little cake underneath. You looked at it and said,
"It's.....(pause)
"It's dead." With a look of utter disbelief on your face.

12/6/11--G's journal; he is 4
Today while you and Nana were playing in the basement, I heard you call her a "meddling door-rat."

12/16/11--G's journal; he is 4
Today you wound chewed bubble gum around your neck in a thin strand like a necklace and couldn't get it off, although you did get a washcloth and tried to do it yourself before you hollered for me. It took some serious scrubbing and baby oil to get it off.

11/13/11--M's journal; he is 2
The other day we were talking about Christmas and N and G were telling what they wanted from Santa. I said to you, "What do you want, M?"
You pointed to the top of the kitchen cabinet where I have the Halloween candy stored in a Winnie the Pooh bucket and said, "POOH!"

The itch to write---aka, My life of journaling

2011-12-19T18:48:00.000-08:00

I started keeping journals as a child. I continued writing throughout my years of school, even going through a spell of thinking I was the next Anne Sexton or Emily Dickinson. But who hasn't done that???

In my first journal, when I was around 10 years old, I wrote about what I did that day: went to the grocery store with mom, ate mac & cheese for supper. Virtually every concluding sentence was, "Today was a good day."

As I moved into junior high and early high school, I began the bad poetry shtick. This poem is titled, "Dream Enchantment." Good grief.

As I got older, my handwriting grew more chicken-scratchy and my mood grew more bleak. No more "Today was a good day" endings.

When D and I became engaged, I started a journal of our engagement, which I gave to him as a surprise as part of our wedding ceremony.

I journaled about our marriage preparations. How I felt about him. What I expected marriage to be. I clipped articles and cartoons about marriage.

I kept pregnancy journals throughout each pregnancy and then began journals for each of the kids. I treasure these most of all.

N's journals.

(First-born children get all the spoils. Of course, much of my writing from the time N was 2-and-a-half has been blogged.)

I write down funny things they've said over time and include little notes they've written. The note below was written by N. It says, "I waas seik." (I was sick)

The blogging explains why G and M only have 2 journals each.

G's journals

I keep tickets of events we take the kids to see. This is the ticket from G's first movie-theater experience---seeing Cars 2 this past summer.

M's journals

M obviously doesn't say much, but I do write down new words he is saying and books he wants me to read over and over and over.

That's like, your opinion, man.....

2011-12-18T12:31:00.000-08:00

I truly have mixed feelings about blogging and any other kind of social discussion media (Facebook, Twitter, whatnot).

On the one hand, I think it is great for people to be able to "put stuff out there" because it does often open the door to discussion, or at least getting people to think. For me, blogging and Facebooking are a means of quenching the need to write, stay in touch with friends in far off places, and perhaps offer support to other stay-at-home moms and women with mood issues similar to mine.

It is always nice to have someone I actually know (like Giselle or Susan or Keri) comment because, even when they disagree, I know that they like me. We have a relationship outside of the blogging and Facebooking and know we can tease each other.

It is also nice to have bloggy friends I don't know (like Kelsey or Bethany) comment because they have given me thoughtful comments. While they, too, may disagree with things I have said, they do so in a way that is tempered with friendship established over the course of reciprocal blogging comments.

But here's the double rub with doing anything publicly. First, there are those people who don't acknowledge themselves, who stay anonymous. Remaining anonymous is certainly fine and in principal I don't have a problem with anyone's wish to remain unknown.

However, sometimes while remaining safely cocooned in their anonymity these folks write things in a way that comes across as hateful, mean-spirited, and generally ass-hole-ish. Would these people say these things if we all knew their names were Kate and Delores and could see a picture of their faces right next to their names? I think not. Would these people say these things to my face if they knew me? I doubt it.

I have read lots of things online with which I disagree, but I generally keep my mouth shut and my fingers still. If I type something which might be construed as mean or nasty, then I am just coming across as a jerk. And if I don't even own up to it by showing my face and listing my name, then I am a coward.

Some might say, "Well, you are putting your stuff out there, so suck it up." I agree to an extent.

The difference is I am not demanding anyone read my blog, not emailing it to someone's browser without them having added their email to the little feature on the blog's home page. I am essentially putting a potted plant of my choosing on my front porch where anyone who drives by can see it. Some people who drive by say, "Hey, nice flowers." Some people see my flowers and think to themselves, "Dang, those are ugly." And some people yell out the car window as they drive by, "You got some nasty-ass flowers on your porch!"

This metaphor could be applied to virtually any situation. If I wear something hideous to Target most people will ignore it, thinking to themselves, "God, what an atrocious outfit!" But no one is gonna come up to my face and say it because 1. to do so is rude and 2. they run the risk of being punched in the mouth.

If only the courtesies we extend to people in real life were extended to the online world.

The October surprise

2011-12-18T07:17:00.000-08:00

In October my parents celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary.

The day before their actual anniversary, my brother and I held a surprise wedding blessing and party for them at their church. We started planning it in August, making it the longest 2 months of my life since I couldn't talk about it with my mother, whom I talk to about virtually everything.

Much skulking around was needed to pull this thing off. I had to scan through all the joke emails they send me to pull email addresses for their friends whom I don't personally know. I had to do some B&E at their home in September and early October when they were out of town to check their address book, borrow some CDs to burn songs onto my iPod, and "steal" the champagne glasses they used at their wedding (that D and I used at our wedding 14 years ago and my brother and SIL used at their wedding 10 years ago).

On the invitations, I put my home phone number as the RSVP contact info, meaning I had to unplug my answering machine whenever my mom was here and I ran errands so she wouldn't hear someone leave a message about the event.

A few days before the event I called the welcoming committee chairperson at Mom and Dad's church to ask if she would call my parents to get them to "usher" at Saturday's 5:00 mass. It took mom awhile to finally understand that she didn't actually have to usher....that it was our ploy to ensure they showed up to mass.

We ordered a beautiful wedding cake, made a Shutterfly photo album of pictures of them from the past 40 years, and purchased a commemorative plate on which guests could sign their names.

The day after the party I felt like I'd been hit by a truck----exhausted like never before. I've planned events in the past and never had this kind of visceral feeling after all was said and done. I think it was the secret-keeping that did me in, the anxiety that someone could let the cat out of the bag.

But it was wonderful. My dad's two Air Force buddies and their wives (from Ohio and New Jersey) came down, as did many of dad's former co-workers at General Electric. Mom's quilting group friends attended, as did neighbors and family members. Mom and Dad were shocked to see so many unexpected faces.

The groom kissing the bride.

My family.

My children smell like butt

2011-12-17T17:49:00.000-08:00

Children are gross. It starts with meconium and goes downhill from there.

I doubt I would be able to function as a mom of three if it weren't for my Lexapro. There is only so much yuck a person with OCD who has germ issues can handle. When N was younger, if she pooped in the tub I had to break out the bleach, scald my hands in hot water and actively work to convince myself that the tub was clean and she wouldn't contract some freaky poop-related illness.

Now, either my medication has really built up in my system or I've built up my tolerance to poop or I'm too darn busy to worry about it much. When I have to flip G's poops, if some poop residue gets on my hands, I wash 'em well and go about my day. When I've got me, G and M crammed into a restroom stall and G has to completely disrobe to pee on the potty (since he sits) and M is crawling all over the floor, I wash their hands when we're all done and don't think much about the nasty fecal microbes that spray out all over the floor whenever the toilets flush.

G and M are definitely gross with the fondling of the penises and whatnot, but I am a little amazed at how disgusting N still is. I thought an almost 8-year-old would be a little more hygienic, and maybe other kids are, but not her.

She never flushes the toilet. I don't have a problem with, "If it's yellow, let it mellow," but daggonit, I firmly believe in, "If it's brown, flush it down." And she does not. Ever. Flush. It. Down. She swears that she wipes, but I never see toilet paper. I think I would recognize toilet paper (unless it has been sitting in an unflushed toilet so long it completely dissipates).

To make matters worse and amp up the gross factor, she is a terribly inconsistent hand-washer.
The cherry on top of everything is she farts alot.

G and M smell like butt all the time because they both still do the deed in their shorts.

Hence, the butt smell that emanates from my children.

I admit that I am not real regular about giving the kids baths. When I only had 1 child, giving a bath was a way to break up the day, give us something different to do. Bathing two children is slightly more involved. Three children makes bath time a 2-hour activity that always involves a change of clothes---and I'm talking about myself here. It is a headache enough wrestling children into and out of their regular clothes on a daily basis, plus diaper changes and flipping poop out of underwear. Up until recently I've been of the mindset that, "The kids get a bath once a week whether they need it or not." What's good enough for the pioneers has been good enough for me.

But with Stinky Sue, I'm finding that a once a week bath is not cutting it.

Between my cats and their inability to cover their stuff in the litterbox and my kids, I think the smell of unseemly fecal material has permanently invaded my nasal passages.

What do these pics say about my kid?

2011-12-14T12:20:00.000-08:00

G is starting to draw real pictures, and by that I mean we can sorta tell what they are. It just feels like a HUGE milestone when my kids begin drawing cephalopods. I save some of the drawings, but G went on a spree so I thought I'd photograph him holding his art to save a little space in his treasure bin.

He started out being all cute and smiley and then just got plumb weird.

Willy Wonka kind of day

2011-12-14T11:56:00.000-08:00

The boys and I visited a local candy factory today with playgroup friends for a holiday party. The boys got to make marshmallow chocolate penguins and do a candy coin scavenger hunt and draw on a chalkboard and play a pinball game and eat pizza.

Oh, yes, and they also got to eat candy. Momma, having just worked out this morning, contained herself. It helps to bring two little boys to a candy shop because Momma doesn't have time to actually browse the homemade chocolate deliciousness section.

Selecting his marshmallows.

Dipping 'em.

The finished penguin product.

M slathered white fudge on the chocolate marshmallows, ate a couple of the blue M&Ms (what was supposed to be the eyes), and dove headfirst into the eating part of the process.

A face only a momma could love.

And only a blast of water from a hose can clean off.

The whole adorable gang.

My 2 cents on Scholastic, electronic book systems for kids, Skippyjon Jones and other reading phenomena

2011-12-13T12:40:00.000-08:00

I have read some blog and Facebook posts/comments recently by parents who dislike Scholastic, specifically Scholastic book fairs in schools and the quality of the books (or the lack of quality of the books). These comments got me thinking about why I like Scholastic and do not mind the book fairs, catalogs, and book quality.

Mind you, if there is one thing I will always purchase for my kids, it is books. Toys are not necessary and clothing is optional, but one can never have too many books.

Sure, there are some books out there that I don't like. I was never big into the Strawberry Shortcake books because 1. they are loooooong and 2. Strawberry Shortcake and her fruity friends always say things like, "This is berry cool!" When N was big into these books I did buy them and I did check them out from our local library, but I always read them as "This is very cool." The point was that she liked them, and I wanted (and want) her to like books and enjoy the pleasure of reading.

I recognize that the Scooby-Doo books and the Marvel Superhero books and the Barbie books are not great literature, but I think kids should be allowed to have their choice in reading. They will be far more willing to read things I suggest to them (better quality literature) if they know they are able to pick some of their favorites.

When I was a preteen/teen one of the books I read over and over and over was Jimmy Reardon by William Reichert. Not high quality literature, to be sure, but it got me reading, and I read it every time I sat at the kitchen table to have a snack.

Unless my kids want to read pornography before they are legally of age to purchase it, I do not ever see myself censoring their reading. I might postpone their reading, say if N wanted to read Forever by Judy Blume when she is 10. She can read it when she is the same age as the protagonist. (But I reserve the right to change my mind about this at any time.)

I don't mind the kids visiting the Scholastic book fair while at school and making a wish list. I have a much bigger problem with the kids being allowed to purchase chips and cookies in the lunch line. A book, even a crappy book, is far better for a kid than junk food.

Now, I never just give N money to purchase her own stuff from the book fair because she might be tempted to buy erasers or other little trinkets that are also sold. She makes her wish list of books, I go the book fair, I decide which of her choices I want to buy her that costs $5 or less, and she gets one book.

What does stick in my craw a bit are the Tag systems and other electronic "readers" that are advertised as being a great way to get kids to read. My kids like to read mostly because we have books all over our house, we have read to our kids at least once a day since they were six months old, I have taken them to the library on a regular basis their entire lives, and they see me and D reading almost constantly---magazines, newspaper, books. It is my belief that most kids will enjoy reading and read well if similar things are done in their homes from the time they are wee babies. Unless one of the kids has specific reading problems and I am encouraged by a reading professional to get them one of these systems, I will not purchase one. (But I also refuse to allows televisions in bedrooms, including mine and D's, so I am kinda in a small circle of Luddites.)

I'm going out on a limb here but do some parents buy these things for their kids just so they don't have to read to 'em?

If there is one book series that I have heard people rave about but that I don't get the hype, it is the Skippyjon Jones books. They are cute--yes--but I find them very confusing. And if I get confused, it makes me wonder if my kids aren't a little confused. Plus, I'm not big on the use of just adding "o" to the end of an English word to make it sound Spanish. I'd be curious to know how these books are received among Latinos.

Two titles I found in the Scholastic brochures that the kids and I have read and enjoyed are Pete the Cat: I Love My White Shoes and Pete the Cat: Rockin in My School Shoes, both by Eric Litwin and illustrated by James Dean. Perhaps the best thing about the books is that if one visits this site, one can download audio recordings. If you were driving around my city sometimes, you might see us rockin' out to these in the minivan. Pete is one funky cat.

Being the mom, especially the SAHM, sometimes totally sucks

2011-12-11T08:32:00.000-08:00

I put it to my husband this way Wednesday night when, upon returning home from work, he began asking me what was for supper and I snapped at him. But first, let's establish the facts of that day:

1. We stayed in the house all day other than to pick N up from school.

2. G was sick.

3. I was PMSing.

4. It is Christmas time so my usual to-do/things on my mind list is longer than normal.

I asked D if he has ever had 4 people standing at his office door at work, all demanding something from him at the exact same moment?

I then asked, "Do you like that?"

The difference is that adults generally have more patience than young children. Adults generally, at least in the workplace, don't scream and flail themselves on the floor. Adults generally don't argue over the dumbest of dumb things....like bandaids or straws or things like who can say, "HaHaHaHaHa" the best. Not that adults aren't annoying in the workplace, but it is on a totally different level than children. And in the workplace, D has his own office, where he can shut the door and ignore his email or phone calls if he really felt like his head was going to implode from all the interruptions.

Staying at home full-time means that I do the housework and usually have multiple housework things going on at once (laundry and beds needing to be made and dishes needing to be taken out of the dishwasher, etc). Then there are the unexpected household tasks, like cleaning up the 15 cat-vomit piles in the basement or dealing with a doctor's office phone call. And then there is the endless not-necessary tasks that if I made them into a huge pile would be bigger than my house, like sharpening the broken pencils or organizing school papers.

On top of all this are the childcare responsibilities---helping kids pee, changing diapers, wiping noses, breaking up fights, getting snacks, cleaning up snacks, moving toys back to the family room from wherever in the home they are taken. The kids do not coordinate any of their needs. G will come ask for a snack, eat it and then be on his way. As soon as I get back to whatever it was I was doing when G asked for a snack, inevitably N comes in and asks for a snack for herself. The interruptions never, ever, ever end.

Then there is the cooking and/or the running of the errands, which also never end.

On weekends, when D isn't on call, he doesn't have to think about his job. From the instant I wake up every single day of the week, including weekends, I am at my job, with my employers and colleagues in my space, under my feet. D is on call for his job periodically--every 6 weeks or so. I am on call constantly, every single hour of the day for the past almost 8 years.

Even when D is around, the kids ask me for whatever it is they need. Even when I say to them, "Do you see that man there????? Ask him!" Even when D is here, he doesn't hear the kids make a request. I still have to say D, "G asked for some milk. Get it for him." When I ask D to fix something for the kids, he asks me, "What do they want?" This question infuriates me since 2 of the 3 children are completely fluent in the English language and could answer the question if he asked them.

Being a mom is hard, but being a stay-at-home mom sometimes feels impossible because what is both my home and my job is just D's home. He doesn't know the routines of the day, and even if he did, the routine and flow of the day changes simply because he is here. My expectation is that he SHOULD know what to do because it is his home, because he is the dad.

But here is the rub: If I was a teacher at a school or a nurse at a hospital, I wouldn't expect him to be able to walk in and take over, nor would he or I expect that I could come into his place of employment and do his job without asking a bazillion questions, without being completely out of my element and bugging him with what he would consider my stupid questions.

So I know my expectations are off the mark, but that doesn't make me any less grouchy and irritated by the whole situation.

Add to this the fact that there is no monetary validation of what I do, and I just sometimes want to throw up my hands, polish off my resume, and get back into the economically quantifiable work force. Yet this would only make my life harder and more frustrating, and I know it.

Cute Christmas kid photos---past and present

2011-12-06T18:42:00.000-08:00

2004

2005

2006

2007

2008

2009

2010

2011

How I love these photos.

Days of December: Made with love

2011-12-05T18:31:00.000-08:00

Part of the reason I blog, besides my mental health, is to have a means of sharing with my children what life was really like when they were children---both good and bad.

My hope is that between the journals I keep for them, the scrapbooks I make, and this blog, they will have a sense of how much I adored them, even when they were driving me up a wall. I hope what they remember are the little things I did to show I love them, not my "raving bitch momma" moments.

This past Saturday, after having purchased a gingerbread man cookie cutter, I made banana pancakes cut into gingerbread man shape with chocolate chip eyes and blue icing pants.

When he saw them G asked, "Do they have love in 'em?"

And the answer was, "Of course they do."

Days of December: A special Christmas event with my boys

2011-12-04T18:27:00.000-08:00

The boys and I visited a downtown hotel this past week to see decorations featuring thousands and thousands of lights. It is very overpriced, but since kids 4 and under are free I felt like my cost ($15.99) divided by 3 made it reasonable. I will be going later this month with N when the Girl Scouts are able to attend at a discounted rate. (Have I mentioned that I am frugal to a fault?)

Days of December: My new Christmas mantel

2011-12-03T19:13:00.000-08:00

My friend and I went to Sips and Strokes this past week, and I created a painting that I think is just delightful.

It has a new home as part of my Christmas mantel decor (which was improved in 2009).

Christmas presents to me

2011-12-03T19:05:00.000-08:00

Normally I loathe spending money on myself, but today I decided that I needed a reward for being the magic behind all this Christmas stuff we do. The gift-buying, the gift-wrapping, 90% of the holiday decorating (although my husband deserves kudos for putting up the big tree and doing the lights on it today), all of the holiday baking/cooking/card-sending---yep, that's my job.

So today when shopping for groceries and baby wipes and Papaw's Christmas gift at Meijer, I saw two things that I decided I was gonna buy for myself and not feel one iota of guilt about either purchase.

1. I used to have a step basket on the steps for holding all the miscellaneous items that the kids drag downstairs that eventually need to go back upstairs, but D griped about it constantly. He says the kids kept tripping over it, but our kids trip over their own two feet most everyday, so I doubt the basket was to blame. I put a big wicker-type basket in the entryway, but I didn't like how it looked or functioned.

When I spotted this open bookshelf at Meijer for $39.99, I decided it would hold lots of items and look half-way decent too. It was already put together, so that was a bonus.

2. My neighbor and I are now splitting a share in a CSA, as we did last year, and I have decided I am sick to death of the drudgery that is cleaning salad greens. It is darn near impossible to rinse those things and dry them out without resorting to the low cycle. I have long wanted one of these but never got one because heaven forbid I buy anything for myself that seems at all extravagant. (How sad is my life that this item is extravagant.)

In truth, these items are REALLY for the family, for the running of the house and shouldn't be counted as fun, personal items for me. D buys and plays Modern Warfare 4,000, and I buy a shelf and a salad spinner to clean up after the kids and fix supper. I think this means I am the grown-up.

Children updates on this last day of November

2011-11-30T18:03:00.000-08:00

1. The scoring of Flip the Poops is similar to that of golf---the lower the score, the better. I lost dreadfully today because I had to flip the poops 4 times in the late afternoon. Tonight, while I was at my neighborhood HOA board meeting, D had to flip them once. That game sucks.

2. Despite purchasing size 3T onesies online as a means of keeping M from playing with his boys at night, pulling his penis upwards and soaking his crib with urine, it seems he has found a way to thwart me. In his efforts to play with his junk, he just pushes down on the fabric of the onesie in a rubbing fashion, which also pushes the diaper down which ends up in wet sheets and clothes. That sucks too.

3. Karma is a bitch. All the grief I gave my mother when doing my math homework as an elementary school student is coming back at me now three-fold as I "help" N do her math homework. It is not pretty, especially when both the boys are wanting my attention and I'm having to prepare supper. This, I think, sucks the most.

Ask and ye shall receive

2011-11-29T18:52:00.000-08:00

I have spent much of the day completing one of my freelance pieces and starting another, so I am more than happy to do as my friend KB suggested, which is to share the poem I wrote for the book club ornament I made.

A Story of a Book Club

2011

Once there was a book club that met the first week of every month.

The ladies would spend much of the time telling stories of their families and sharing snacks and wine.

Eventually they would get around to discussing their chosen book---

Its themes, its characters, the ways in which it delighted some and irritated others.

By years end, it was hard to recall all the titles the ladies had read and reviewed and reflected upon.

Bridge of Sighs, Two Rivers, Jitterbug Perfume, My Name is Asher Lev, The Tender Bar, Saving CeeCee Honeycutt, Left to Tell, The Paris Wife, Lit, The 19th Wife, One Day and Jane Eyre.

Every month the book club met.

Seasons passed.

Some ladies moved away, as others moved in to take their place.

Some ladies had babies.

Before very long those babies were growing up.

Months of our lives measured by

pages read,

themes explored,

friendships treasured.

Month of thankfulness

2011-11-28T20:02:00.000-08:00

Things I was thankful for via Facebook, November 2011

(My goal was to be thankful for and mindful of the little things....not just the big obvious ones like my husband and kids.)

Nov 1-3

Here's 3 things I'm thankful for (since I missed days 1 and 2 of daily thanks):
*Flavored creamer in my coffee
*English muffins with cream cheese and strawberry preserves
*The free public library's online book reserve system

Nov 4

I am thankful that, for the moment, G is waking me up during the night to pee in the potty instead of for his usual random needs, which are known only to him.

Nov 5

I am thankful that one day I will go through menopause.

Nov 6

I am REALLY thankful for Lexapro and my psychiatrist.

Nov 7

Is thankful for another round (#4) of refinancing the house. Shaving off lots of interest.

Nov 8

Is thankful my parents get back this week from their 14-day European cruise. I miss 'em.

Nov 9

Is thankful for antihistamines, decongestants, allergy shots, guaifenesin, hydrocortisone and all the other allergy-related things I use to keep my head and body from exploding, dripping and itching.

Nov 10

Is thankful all of my children were born healthy, without severe physical and mental disabilities. Sometimes I forgot what a blessing this is in the midst of aggravating "normal" child antics.

Nov 11

Is thankful for the peace that comes with knowing my family is complete and that I won't have to gestate, deliver, nurse or raise any more children than the 3 I have.

Nov 12

Is thankful for the ability to read and write.

Nov 13

Is thankful for the cuteness that is 2-year-olds in footed pajamas.

Nov 14

Is thankful for 6 hours of solid, uninterrupted sleep.

Nov 15

Is thankful for my bi-weekly fitness class and the good health to be able to participate in it.

Nov 16

Is very thankful I will be volunteering in N's classroom this morning because my a**hole sons have driven me crazy, and it's only 8:08 a.m. Must get away from them so as not to kill them.

Nov 17

Is thankful for indoor plumbing.

Nov 18

Is thankful for G's speech therapist, Ms. Melissa. In addition to being a super nice lady, she has helped make huge improvements in G's communication skills.

Nov 19

Is thankful for Tony W, a stylist who "gets" my hair and makes it look great every time.

Nov 20

Is thankful for having friends in the right places (like Bill T). Networks are a good thing.

Nov 21

I am thankful for public education.

Nov 22

Is thankful for Thanksgiving stories composed by 7-year-olds about a turkey and beans that jump out of the refrigerator and leave the family without a feast.

Nov 23

(no post due to stomach bug)

Nov 24

Is thankful the stomach bug I had was mild and short-lived so I was able to share a Thanksgiving meal with my family.

Nov 25

Is thankful I have neither the desire nor the energy to engage in Black Friday shopping of any kind.

Nov 26

Is thankful for the Zoo and Free Public Library for keeping our family entertained over the long weekend without getting anywhere near a shopping mall.

Nov 27

Is thankful that my husband does the clean-up.

Nov 28

Is thankful to be seeing a good friend this evening.

Nov 29

Is thankful for my husband who, even, though sick with a stomach bug, manned up and watched the kids so I could do Sips 'N' Strokes with my BFF.

Clobbered

2011-11-27T08:40:00.000-08:00

I knew this day would come, and I hoped that I would witness it.

It has been coming in small increments---G pestering M in whatever way he felt like pestering and M standing up for himself. G taking toys out of M's hands, getting up in M's face and blowing raspberries, putting his feet on M's side of the couch while they watch tv. All of these were followed by M screeching in ager, M hitting G, or M attempting to head butt G.

One day last week M was playing with some monster trucks and G grabbed one or did something that interrupted M's quiet involvement in his toys. M took a monster truck and hit G on the head, causing G to cry and scream. G followed up by hitting M in the head with a monster truck, causing M to cry and scream. Both boys ran to me, tugging at my pant legs, tears streaming down their faces. I took both boys upstairs for a book and naps. Sheesh.

Just now, M was playing with a toy in the upstairs hallway. G did his usual. I told G to leave M alone. The next thing I know, I hear M screeching a bit but as I walked over to deal with G, I saw M lift the toy and clobber G in the head with it. Hard.

This was his weapon.

This is what G had been using to pester his younger brother.

I am hoping it doesn't take G too terribly long to understand that baby boy is no longer just gonna take it. G will be getting his just desserts.

I screwed myself gift-giving wise a long time ago (also called What I Would Like for Christmas)

2011-11-26T05:31:00.000-08:00

When D and I married and for numerous years afterwards, I fretted A LOT about money. I still fret about it, but the volume is down thanks to my medication.

Before D and I married and shared joint accounts for everything, I loved it when he bought me flowers and trinkets---before it became "my money too." After we shared our finances, I hated it when he spent $60 on flowers for me. What had been romantic and thoughtful when we were engaged became wasteful once we were married. I very quickly put the kibosh on buying impractical (though romantic and thoughtful) gifts....which I sometimes think was a dumb move.

I simply get more satisfaction, most of the time, from saving money than from spending it, especially on items that I quickly forget about once they are stashed in a closet like clothing, shoes, etc. If we spend money on the house, like our hardwood floor or our covered deck, I enjoy that spending more because in addition to enhancing our home's appearance, I see it constantly and we get daily use out of it. Because there is practical value in it, I appreciate it more.

I also value effort far more than I value spending money or the stuff that one can get with money. For example, if D walks into Kroger and purchases me a $5 bouquet of flowers it means far more than if he buys a $60 arrangement online. The online arrangement takes no effort on his part since he just sits there at his desk and opens a new browser as he's working. Since he hates to go into stores for any reason at all, it means more that he makes an effort to buy me a cheap flower arrangement after work at the grocery store. The money spent completely isn't the point in my book, nor are the flowers themselves.

With all that being said, there are some things that I would like to buy for myself if I would only do it. But I don't because I don't really need it.

Still there are times when other people might want to get something for me.....like at Christmas time...and they don't know what I'd like. And D, who as I mentioned really hates to shop or think of something I'd like, seems to appreciate me laying it out very, very obviously here on my blog.

So here are some things I would like but won't buy myself ever or for a very long time. Heck, I saw the Joan Didion book at Half-Price Books for $2 last week and didn't buy it for myself (I am sorta kicking myself for this!).

Books--

Some people and children don't think books are a great gift, but I heartily disagree!

1. The Family Fang by Kevin Wilson-- I heard about this book on NPR one day and thought it sounded interesting.

2. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

3. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

4. Freakonomics by Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner

5. The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell

6. Blink by Malcolm Gladwell

7. Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua

Clothing--

1. Black or dark grey ankle-length boot-cut yoga pants. I have a pair of black ones that are fading and losing their elasticity at the waist and have some stains on the leg. But they don't have holes in them yet, so I can't justify buying myself a new pair.

2. Tissue paper blouses. I see these at Old Navy and like the feel. Anymore I have to dress in layers because dealing with the kids makes me hot. It can be 35 degrees outside but if I'm having to lug children and all the paraphernalia they require around, I am usually quite content to wear a lightweight long-sleeve top.

Hobby--

1. Pretty scrapbooking paper and stickers and notions. I love all different kinds of scrapbook paper, stickers, ribbons, etc. But I never have time to browse alone. And even if I do find time and can browse alone, I can always talk myself out of buying new stuff. A few years back my mom bought me some random pieces, and I was thrilled to have anything new.

I guess if there is anything good about being frugal and not buying for myself very often, it is that I am quite easy to please.

(Dear husband, please save this link for 2012 reference.)

Projects out the wazoo

2011-11-25T05:44:00.000-08:00

When I get a hankerin' to take on a bunch of projects, I really take on a bunch of projects. I have been on a somewhat manic project tear lately. I will be a little glad when it subsides since it makes my usually long "to-do" list that much longer.

My parents purchased a new dining room suite a few months back, so I asked if D and I could have their old one. When D and I moved into this house in 2001 we purchased a round glass-top table with seating for four, which doesn't quite work when your family is a party of five. Glass is also very loud when Matchbox cars are banged on it.

The table and chairs are old. Mom and Dad bought them used when I was a baby, so they probably have at least 40 years on them (I get being cheap very honestly). Mom recovered the seats when she and Dad moved into their house in 2001 but they are in need of some loving. D has also been complaining about how hard the seats are (D has a very sensitive ass, which could be the subject of its own blog post).

Project #200,684,629: Purchase material for the chairs, some extra padding and recover them.

I decided that I wasn't going to get all matching fabric for a couple reasons. I wanted to shop clearance fabric, and it is often difficult to find a ton of matching fabric in those bins. Secondly, I thought it would be best to buy somewhat coordinating fabrics rather than all the same so that when the children destroy the fabric (which they will and soon), I can relatively easily find other semi-coordinating fabric without having to recover every chair again.

Here is what a chair looks like with Mom's fabric on it:

I am also going to cover the chair at my desk in the kitchen:

And here is the fabric:

I am quite tired of browns and taupes, and my eye was drawn to blues and greens. The Jackson Pollack-like print doesn't have either of those shades, but I thought it would be perfect for the boys' seats. Stains???? What stains????

I also wanted something funky and fun, and I thought these fit the bill.

With a big role of padding included, I spent about $47.

Pictures of the completed chairs to come whenever I get them finished......

Book club ornament

2011-11-24T18:21:00.000-08:00

The book club I'm in does an ornament exchange every December. In the past I have tried to purchase ornaments that somehow related to a book we read.

One year we read Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See, and that Christmas I just happened upon an ornament at Pier One that looked like a little geisha girl.

This year I had it in my head that I wanted to get an ornament in the shape of a book. Given that I don't have oodles of time to shop alone, I figured it was going to be nearly impossible to find what I envisioned and at a cost that was reasonable ($5 or less).

So, I decided to make a book ornament.

Inside I wrote a poem about our book club and listed the books we read this year.

I'm quite pleased with how it turned out!

Thinking of what I have on Thanksgiving, 2011

2011-11-24T18:11:00.000-08:00

(I was side-lined yesterday by a mild stomach bug, so I'll be making up for not posting yesterday with 2 posts today.)

"There but for the grace of G*d go I."

I know that I have lived a very fortunate life. Born in the US, to educated parents who valued their children's education, who were not alcoholics or drug-addicts, who instilled in me a strong work ethic, who taught me the value of a dollar and of saving a dollar.

These are things over which I had no control. They weren't my choices.

Like any young person, I made some choices that weren't terribly smart. But fortunately, I didn't like the way cigarettes made me feel, and I wasn't exposed to hard drugs, and I didn't like the way alcohol made me feel, and I didn't become pregnant before I was emotionally and financially ready to welcome a baby into my life. These choices were ones I made that somehow worked out for the best---that didn't leave me sick or destitute or addicted or dead.

Throughout my life I have lost friendships and loved ones. Both of my parents have been diagnosed with cancer (breast and melanoma), and both are survivors because their cancers were caught early and they had the money and insurance to seek and receive adequate health care. There will come a time when I will lose them, but I would prefer this course than for them to lose me. It would kill me to lose one of my children, and I would never wish this on my own parents.

My children are, thus far, healthy and will hopefully lead long, productive, mostly satisfying and mostly happy lives. I am doing what is in my power to ensure that this happens, but much of it has little or nothing to do with anything I might do or not do.

At some point, D or myself could be diagnosed with cancer or some other kind of life-threatening illness, and I hope that I show courage and wisdom in the face of it.

I have dealt with my own emotional demons, and while I know I will never be cured, I also know what I need to do to stay healthy. I know that being open about my struggles and my medication has helped numerous friends. Even though for many years I hated my mood disorder and how it made me suffer, in a way it has been a remarkably positive transformative element in my life.

Perhaps it is because I look at life not seeking "the best" life has to offer, but "better than what I have now" that keeps me engaged in every day thankfulness. Perhaps it is because I do not wish to waste resources or spend thoughtlessly that helps me to be thankful.

Being thankful is being mindful, being reflective. Being aware of what I think and say and how I act. Being aware of how little my life is, how my choices have had some but not as much impact on my life as what I sometimes think they have had.

Being aware that it has been through g*d's grace that my life has moved along as it has.

Flip the poops

2011-11-22T12:22:00.000-08:00

This is the game we play in our house now that G is completely pee-pee trained but definitely not poop-trained.

Here are the rules.

1. Pooping on the potty is NOT allowed (per the 4-year-old).

2. When the 4-year-old boy poops in his underpants, he yells, "Mommy, FLIP THE POOPS!"

3. Mommy accompanies the 4-year-old boy to the powder room.

4. Toilet lids are raised.

5. 4-year-old boy's pants are removed.

6. Mommy turns the underpants so that the poops flip into the toilet. The goal of the game is to get the poops out of the underpants and into the toilet WITHOUT any poops falling onto the floor.

7. Soiled underpants are removed.

8. Mommy tells the 4-year-old to touch his toes or the floor by bending forward.

9. Mommy wipes the 4-year-old's hieney-butt.

(NOTE: With Mommy bending over to wipe the child's hieney-butt and the 4-year-old bending over to touch his toes, one MIGHT confuse this game with a very sick version of Twister.)

10. 4-year-old puts on clean underpants and pants and goes back to playing (or stands around naked informing Mommy that he is going to start greeting people from now on with his butt instead of his face).

11. Mommy washes her hands thoroughly and wishes for a soap that would wash the smell of poops from her nose and the vision of 4-year-old hieney-butt from her mind.

Most of the time this game is only played once a day, although some days Mommy is really lucky and gets to play 3 or 4 times.

Baby naming

2011-11-21T15:09:00.000-08:00

Our cousin is expecting a daughter in the spring and recently selected a name. In the car this afternoon, I told N the baby's name. She said, "Ooooo, I like that. But she might want to name it Claire instead."

N and I got to talking about how the names you think you want to name your child when you are young are often not the names you select once you are actually having your own baby. When I was a preteen, I liked the name Jocelyn but there is no way in heck I would have selected this for my child as a 30-something pregnant person. I don't like names ending in -lyn (Brooklyn, Caitlyn, etc.).

Yesterday in a fit of couch-potato-nesss, I watched Freakonomics. One of the segments in this documentary is about what people name their children and whether a name itself plays a role in how successful a child becomes.

I love the names D and I selected for our children because they are common enough to be recognized as "real" names, not trendy made-up ones that don't stand the test of time. But they are uncommon enough that you don't hear tons and tons of kids with those names, as you do Emily or Aidan. I would be willing to bet my children will be the only N, G and M in their classes.

And though I wasn't crazy about my name when I was a kid and still am not a fan of my first and middle names together (Carrie Ann sounds so whiney, but that may be because of the whiney-ness of the Hollies' song), I like each of them individually.

After 38 years, they feel like me. They fit me to a T.

Travels with me (and my hair)

2011-11-20T16:05:00.000-08:00

I didn't really catch the travel bug until after college, but my first adult-like travel adventure was when I was 19. I went on a 10-week stint in England, Ireland and Wales with a professor and some other students. I may have sent my boyfriend at home a Dear John letter and gotten temporarily engaged to a guy on the trip (ring included) only to get un-engaged some 4-6 weeks later. I may also have done a tremendous amount of drinking while on this trip, which, perhaps, explains the engagement.

My hair was longish and shaggy until I got it chopped into a slightly more appealing do' in London. (The picture below is after the haircut.)

Me and Bono at Rock Circus.

During college I went to two economics conferences---one in Boston, MA and one in NYC. The NYC one was during my senior year. That same year I went to NYC with a boyfriend to visit his sister. When I graduated from college, my mom and I went to NYC as my graduation present. We saw Sunset Boulevard with Glenn Close. We also rode up there on a bus with a bunch of old folks---we were party animals. I felt like pretty hot shit visiting the city that never sleeps 3 times in less than a calendar year.

After D and I had been dating about a year, we went on a Caribbean cruise----St. Thomas, St.Maarten, Barbados, Dominica, Martinique and San Juan, Puerto Rico. It was on this cruise that we became engaged. By this time, my hair was short again.

Me in Barbados.

For our honeymoon in 1997, we went to Grand Cayman Island.

In 1998, we went to Las Vegas, NV, the Grand Canyon and Death Valley, CA. Short hair (and apparently bigger boobs---wtf?). Also HUGE glass lenses.

In 1999, we went to Savannah, GA, St. Simon Island and the Biltmore Estate.

In 2000, we went to Virginia Beach, Colonial Williamsburg, and Assateague Island. I was going through an unfortunate "longish" hair episode. Clearly I hadn't learned my lesson from shaggy hair college days.

In 2001, we went to Italy and Greece. My bangs were longer but the rest of my hair was quite short, a look that I think suits me and was easy to maintain (until I became a mom).

2002 saw me still sporting this longer "short" cut on our trips to Panama City Beach FL, and then Niagara Falls and Toronto later that year.

My hair was shorter again in 2003 when D and I visited Iceland.

It was a little longer when we took our first trip with N in 2006 to Gulf Shores, AL.

A little shorter for DisneyWorld #1 in 2007 (in anticipation of baby #2, G, whom I was pregnant with at the time).

Similar style in 2009 when we went to Gulf Shores, AL again (while pregnant with M).

In 2011, a mom of 3 little ones and in DisneyWorld (take 2)---very, very short hair, and it looks to stay this way awhile.

Two things I love in life---traveling and getting my hair cut.

Jane Eyre (and Edward Rochester)--how I love thee.....

2011-11-19T19:48:00.000-08:00

D and I have begun watching the latest film adaptation of Jane Eyre, a book that I have adored since I was in high school.

I had no interest in the book at the time I first read it. Had to force myself to read it for Mrs. Daub's class in time to take the test. I was scrambling, to say the least. It is a slow read until the orchard scene. A slow, sometimes painful, burn.

But oh, how that one scene changed it all. Now I had to force myself to stop reading to satisfy nature's calls to eat and urinate and sleep.

After the test, Mrs. Daub showed our class the 1946 film version, starring Orson Welles as Edward Rochester. Oh heavens---was I in love. You can imagine the strange looks I got when I said I thought Orson Welles was a sexy romantic hero.

As a teen, I adored Jane Eyre for its love story.

I reread the book in my twenties, and while the love story was still good, I was more focused on Jane as a feminist. I read more closely the descriptions of her as elfin and bird-like.

My book club is reading Jane Eyre for our December discussion, and I am interested to see what themes of the book I will focus on this time, as a mother, as a woman nearing her forties, as a woman who has suffered from a mental disorder for some years now. I wonder if I may pay attention closely to Bertha, if I will feel more sympathetic to her character who in the past has not grabbed my attention too much.

Unfortunately a giant crack on the Netflix dvd has thwarted our attempt to finish the movie this weekend, but I know from what we have seen that Michael Fassbender might just kick Orson Welles out as top Mr. Rochester in my book.

I think I may have actually been holding my breath in the scene where Jane saves Mr. Rochester from the fire in his room and he takes her hand as she is leaving. Be still my heart.

Who needs porn when you have this!

Happy anniversary to me

2011-11-18T12:44:00.000-08:00

This week marks 5 years that I have been doing this blog. You'd think in 5 years I'd have some some different things to talk about. That I'd be more interesting.

But no.

It made me feel better recently to read a post by Teacher Tom in which he said he generally writes about the same old stuff but he tries to write in such a way that it all seems new.

Sometimes I think about when or whether I will stop blogging. Swistle posted recently about how there are very few bloggers who write about parenting teens but how great of a need there is to read about the experiences of these folks in dealing with their teenage children.

When I began this blog I was still very much coping with my mood disorder diagnosis. When I began this blog I only had one child. When I began this blog I had no interest in or intent to do freelance writing.

Five years is a blink of an eye and a million years all rolled into one.

More ways I'm using the drop-side baby crib

2011-11-17T11:53:00.000-08:00

I have found two uses for the sides of the drop-side crib that we disassembled recently.

Here is what I started with. I took a side of the crib and cut it in half.

I used some of this.

I bought two of these at Home Depot and sawed off the decorative top part.

I then used some of this to attach the above decorative ends to the gate, to pretty it up just a tad.

More spray paint.
I also purchased 2 black hooks at Home Depot.
And now I have this in my family room.

For the other side of the crib, I bought 2 silver hooks from Home Depot and now I have this in the laundry room, which is perfect since I haven't had anywhere to hang my damp dishrags. Once they are completely dry, I can throw them into the basket below.

I have another project in the works but it has me using a mitre box. Scary stuff, but I am hoping it turns out well. I think the ones I've done thus far have.

Mommy, are you going to jail?

2011-11-16T05:52:00.000-08:00

This morning I was up at 6:45 a.m. or so, which wouldn't be so bad, but at 2:00 a.m. M woke me up having a crying spell. Then G needed to pee around 4:00, which wasn't a problem, except then the thunder kept him up, requiring me to squeeze into his twin bed. I fell asleep and woke around 5:30 with a terrible backache due to cramped sleeping quarters. And then G was up for good at 6:45.

Not the worst night of sleep ever recorded, but certainly not a great one either.

At a little after 7:00 a.m., M began throwing a tantrum over....well I don't even know what it was about. Did I take away the apple he was using as a ball? Did I refuse to let him have a third Buzz Lightyear vitamin (since 2 is the daily limit)? Did I strap him into the booster seat because during his tantrum he kept pulling on my pajama pants and head-butting me? All of the above?

After M's tantrum, G decided to throw a tantrum because I gave M a Cars bandaid, even though G thinks that he gets dibs on both the Spiderman bandaids and the Cars bandaids. G was given a time-out in his room, which was fine except for the part where I had to half carry/half drag G up the steps and gently ~~toss~~ set him into the bedroom.

When I looked at the clock it said 8:08 a.m. Not even a quarter past 8, and I'm ready to bolt and never come back to these two XY chromosomed idiots.

Given the boys' penchant for driving me to crazy and back on a daily basis, I may have said recently, in a fit of frustration, that one day Mommy is going to go to jail for hurting the boys when they act like rabied gorillas. Ok, there's no maybe about it; I totally said it, and somewhat meant it.

G has latched onto this and now often asks me, as he did this morning while M was pitching a fit but before G pitched his own, if I was gonna go to jail. He asked, "Mommy, are you fusterated?" Sometimes after he's gotten up for the 11th time after being put to bed and can see the steam coming out of my ears, he'll say, "Mommy, I don't want you to go to jail."

While I'm certainly not proud of having mentioned the jail thing and think it drops my scores in the Mom of a Lifetime contest, I also don't necessarily think it is a bad thing for the kids to understand that mommy does get frustrated and that their behavior is quite often the cause of it. Maybe it is not such a bad thing that my saying the jail thing gets him thinking that maybe some parents do end up in jail for hurting their kids.

I don't want him to feel scared or insecure or doubt my love for him, but I also think kids also need to learn respect and kindness and that their behavior does have consequences for themselves and others. It is certainly up to me to control my behavior and not end up in jail, but when dealing with completely or mostly irrational little people with very basic communication skills and no or limited bowel control, jail sometimes sounds like a mini holiday.

I jest. (sorta)

Santa letters and Superhero qualifications

2011-11-15T11:41:00.000-08:00

I had the kids write/dictate their letters to Santa this past weekend.

G keeps adding toys to his, but he's still including the 3 or 4 items he's been yammering about wanting for a month now.

Dear Santa Claus--
I'm behaving so well, being nice, and I want a new toy. Actually I want a Spiderman helicopter with Spiderman, Captain America and a Captain America truck. And I want a Frank toy and a rusty Mater. And I want a Cars 2 movie. And I want a lollipop.
Thank you for coming to my house.
Love,
G

N's note was a little more wordy, but she gets straight to the point early on. (I especially like how she wants items 1 and 3-10 but she needs more of #2.)

Dear Santa Claus,
Here is what I want for Christmas.
1. I want some Monster High dolls.
2. I need some more Christmas shirts.
3. I want Barbie princess charm school movie and Smurf movie.
4. I want alot of GUM!!!
5. I want a justin bieber cardboard poster.
6. I want Liv dolls.
7. I want Bratz masquerade dolls.
8. I want more barbie clothes.
9. I want shake it up clothes from target.
10. I want Disney V.I.P. dolls.
Thank you for being my buddie for christmas and all year.
Love,
N
P.S. Leave a note to G and tell him to share the Cars 2 movie with me.
P.S.S. I have been very good!

Later on this weekend, I found this that N had done, and I thought it was just funny as heck. Edna Mode would totally agree with N's number 1. (Who besides me knows who Edna Mode is without googling it?)

If you can't read it, it says "List the kind of powers your superhero would have?
1. style
2. speed
3. invisibility
4. flexibility

The joy of not being a first-time mom

2011-11-14T08:24:00.000-08:00

I know a number of ladies who are expecting their first baby or just recently had their first child. They are giddy with excitement and wonder and overwhelmed with love, which is just as it should be. I am very happy for them and excited to see their babies' sweet faces.

I am also happy I am not them. As much excitement and wonder and love as I felt when my first child was born, there was also an equal amount of anxiety and confusion and disappointment. These things just come with the territory.

Perhaps the best thing about being a first-time mom is the time to sit and hold your baby without interruption, without having to tend to anyone else but that one infant. Every milestone is a HUGE milestone as if that baby is the only one in the history of the world to ever smile or toot or drool.

The downside of first-time motherhood is you just don't know what the hell you're doing, and you KNOW you don't know what the hell you're doing. Every moment is just wingin' it. You don't know any of the tricks that you realize you've figured out when the second or third or tenth child comes down the pike. You realize that someone made a huge mistake and made you TOTALLY RESPONSIBLE for this wee babe. WTF????

I recall the dread I felt when D and I brought N home from the hospital and set her carseat in the living room. What the heck do we do now? We wondered how life could continue as normal--- everything was suddenly very different because of this small little person in the room. I think we just kinda puttered around the house for awhile, wandering from room to room.

Another downside to first-time mothering is you think every stage is gonna last forever.....both good stages and bad stages. N was one of those exceptionally weird babies who start sleeping 12 hours a night at 4 weeks of age. "We're good to go now!," I thought, anticipating that this was the way it would be forever. When she started waking up constantly at 6 months of age due to teething, I was confused and unbelievably disappointed.

I sometimes still find it hard to believe that I am a seasoned mom. Somehow having 3 kids puts me into a weird category of "How do you do it?" I think about the mom friends I know who have 5+ kids, and I think, "I don't know sh*t. How do they do it?"

This category of "momdom" brings with it the sometimes slightly smug internal laughter at newbie moms and moms of singletons who lament how tired they are or how challenging it is to care for one baby. One child is like a spa vacation, but you don't realize this until you have more than one child for whom to care.

Still, I try to be positive for and supportive of all of my mom friends because motherhood is a tough gig, no matter how many you mother or for how long you've been mothering.

What I don't intend to (ever) do for Thanksgiving

2011-11-13T06:55:00.000-08:00

We do Thanksgiving at my MIL's house every year. Everyone brings a dish, although my MIL still seems to do a lot of cooking---the turkey, of course, but also her frozen cranberry salad and two types of stuffing (oyster, my favorite) and other things of which I'm not fully aware. D's aunt usually brings a heavenly sweet potato casserole that is out of this world. I bring something.....and every year it changes because I am sorta not very traditional when it comes to traditions.

I am perfectly happy to make a meal out of the side dishes. Eff the turkey, I say.

My brother and his family generally spend Thanksgiving with my SIL's large family, so I always worried about mom and dad being alone. Fortunately, my MIL always invites my parents for the meal. My parents and MIL get along well, and I'm super thankful for this. The kids get to see all their grandparents at the same time, D and I aren't leaving one house having just eaten to then go to another house and stuff ourselves silly again, and I don't have to feel guilty that I'm not spending time with my parents and they are sitting alone in their home twiddling their thumbs.

I enjoy spending the holiday eating and enjoying the company of family, as well as going back to my MIL's on Black Friday to eat leftovers for dinner.

As much as I do enjoy this day of the year, I don't ever intend to cook a Thanksgiving meal of my own. I have zero desire. There are no Norman Rockwell dreams of family harmony I envision with hosting my own Thanksgiving. Given how much I dislike cooking dinner every night, I most certainly don't want to fix anything larger than my usual nightly casserole and Ore-Ida french fries. I know there is no gold medal in heaven for having prepared a Thanksgiving meal for one's family. And if there is, I don't wanna go there anyway.

Sure, I fully anticipate changing my mind about this at some point....perhaps when I'm desperate to see my children and grandchildren and will be willing to cook and bake for days on end in order to do so.

But I'm gonna have to be really desperate to love on some grandbabies.

Duct tape years

2011-11-12T18:17:00.000-08:00

I had never heard of the Duct Tape years until Giselle mentioned it in her blog. D and I are well into these years, having just begun our 15th year of marriage on Nov 1. We have been in this house for 10 of those.

Our refrigerator, which we purchased a few months before we married, is somehow clinging to life, but I am waiting for it to conk out any day. The microwave has had a nice run of acting normally but then yesterday started making the noise associated with heating food without actually heating the food (which it is wont to do every so often). It has been years since I could put dishwasher detergent in the detergent cup, close the lid and have it actually pop open during the proper cycle to efficiently clean the dishes. The oven seems to be doing ok, although some of the porcelain surround was nicked off when a heavy glass crockpot lid landed on it.

I continue to save money in our "Home/Car Repair" account because I just know that all the appliances will bite the dust on the same weekend, prompting us to deplete the account and possibly have to resort to selling plasma in order to purchase new stuff.

I know the windows will need replacing before too long since they weren't very good to begin with. The idea of replacing the roof makes my heart heavy.

I can't count the number of times I've had our vacuums repaired---new hoses, new cords, new belts. I lovingly gaze at Dysons at Target, knowing full well mine will just have to keep on keepin' on for awhile longer.

The towels we were given as wedding presents are faded and stained. The clock--also a wedding gift--ticked its last tock a weekend or two ago.

And what has not grown old on its own has been destroyed by our children.

We make due with much of what we have because we I am cheap and figure if an appliance still sorta works then that means its usefulness hasn't been totally depleted. We also make due because there are often more pressing needs like diapers and the endless supply of cheese slices and Triscuit crackers our children devour in an afternoon.

Just as I groan now upon getting out of bed in the morning, moving a little more slowly than I did 10 or 15 years ago, all the knicks and knacks and furnishings and whatnots I've surrounded myself with for those years are doing the same.

History cannot repeat itself when it comes to 2nd and 3rd children

2011-11-11T06:09:00.000-08:00

I think I am finally working through an issue that has plagued me for the past few years---my desire to replicate all the wonderful things I did with N when she was a young child with my boys and the near impossibility of doing so.

There is a luxury with having only one child that one doesn't fully appreciate until one has more than a singleton child and especially when those other children are closely spaced in age.

When N was a toddler and preschooler we took My Gym classes and Music Together classes and participated in all sorts of fun MOMS Club activities, and those things were wonderful and created great memories.

Our local My Gym is now closed (sadly), and while I did take a class there once the boys came on the scene, it was with both boys, which eliminated the possibility of having quality "alone" time with either G or M.

I took a Music Together class with G when M was smaller, and while we enjoyed it, it sometimes felt like a chore every week since I had to make sure M had been nursed prior to going and I had to get back soon after the class to put M down for his nap and on occasions when I didn't have a sitter, I had to take M along with us. It just wasn't the same as it had been when N and I took classes together when she was 2-and-a-half.

When N was small, I was able to take her and my mom out to lunch quite often because N was able to sit and chat and enjoy being still for longer than half a second. Boys, or my boys, at least, don't sit still. Ever. So while we are sometimes able to eat a quick bite at Panera or McAllister's, we don't do it very often because I can only handle so much indigestion from eating a sandwich in 2 gulps.

When N was 4 or so, D and I took her to see The Nutcracker ballet, and it was magical, but I would be a complete fool to spend $60 to take G to see a ballet. Perhaps when he is older (like 22)? I do what I can with him, though. His playgroup will be seeing a short play based on the picture book How I Became a Pirate in the spring. I figure since he likes pirates and will be 4-and-a-half by the time the show runs, he can probably handle sitting still for an hour. (Plus, if he is miserable and we need to skedaddle, I will only be out $10 for both of our tickets.)

It is impossible to be the same doting, patient mom with my boys that I was with N. I am older now and more tired from tending to 3 children. I have to consider the needs and desires of both boys, where back in the day I only had to consider N. My boys personalities and energy levels and interests are nothing like N at the same age. She could play kitchen and restaurant but the boys only enjoy dumping out all the play food items on the floor and trying to stick the plastic hot dogs up their nostrils.

With the boys I have to discover a new definition of quality time, a new array of interesting activities, a new way of creating lasting and special memories.

And that is ok.

Skate party

2011-11-10T18:36:00.000-08:00

Tonight I took N to her first elementary school skate party. She has been asking to do this since she began kindergarten, but due to being almost 9 months pregnant at the time then caring for a newborn and a toddler for the past two years I have been unable to do so.

I finally decided it was time to stop putting this poor child off and take her skating. (She and I have gone skating one time prior on a weekend, back last winter.) But at tonight's event, she had friends with whom to skate, which means she had far more fun than bugging around with her dear old mom. She kinda blew me off a bit. Fortunately, my feelings are not easily crushed.

The skates are on, and she's ready to roll.

(It was "Wear Green Night.")

I loved skate parties when I was in elementary school. I distinctly remember clinging to the rails for dear life my first few attempts. Eventually I asked for speed skates for Christmas because as I got older I started spending every weekend at the skating rink where I rolled in circles and developed crushes on some pretty skanky guys.

And she's off......

And she's down....

Back up again....with the hoodie off, sweat on her brow, doing the Frankenstein skate shuffle.

With her BFF.

Love helping my girl make memories.

Why I like being in a book club

2011-11-09T12:37:00.000-08:00

I only like to read in bed, before I go to sleep. I can read at other times and in other places, but I am able to focus best when I have no distractions (I'm talking to YOU Facebook!). Just as we read to the kids before bed to settle them down and help them relax, reading to myself in bed works the same magic.

I have a terrible time picking books. Sometimes all of the dust jacket descriptions sound wonderful and sometimes none of them sound appealing. The fact that virtually every stinking bookstore in this town has gone out of business contributes to my inability to find a good read. Oh, also I usually have to shop with two boys who refuse to let me browse. Ever.

So I rely on my book club to tell me what to read. This year I have read the following:

Bridge of Sighs by Richard Russo
Two Rivers by T. Greenwood
My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok
The Tender Bar by J. R. Moehringer
Left To Tell by Immaculee Ilibagiza
The Paris Wife by Paula McClain
Lit by Mary Karr
The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff
One Day by David Nicholls

(Of these books, I would give My Name is Asher Lev the highest rating. It was exceptional. I think the weakest one is One Day. It held my interest, but I found one of the main characters highly annoying and it tended toward to be a love story, which I generally dislike with the exception of Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, A Room With a View and Pride & Prejudice. The Brontes, Austen and Forster knew how to do it right.)

On my own, in the couple months that I decided not to read the selected book for book club, I managed to read Life of Pi by Yann Martel, A Parchment of Leaves by Silas House and I am determined to finish Water for Elephants by Sarah Gruen before the end of the year.

As soon as I can buy a copy, I will also re-read Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte for December's book club. I read it the first time in high school and loved the "romance" of the love story about Jane and Mr. Rochester. When I re-read it in my early 20s, I was more enthralled with Jane's feminism and strength as a woman. I submit that this 3rd reading will find me more interested in the crazy wife in the attic, Bertha.

I could have sworn I had my own copy of Jane Eyre on my bookshelf, but I don't, which I think makes me ineligible to continue hanging my English degree on my wall.

In recent years my book collection has shrunk considerably. At some point I decided that I was only going to keep my children's novels (that I bought when I was a middle school teacher), classics and/or books I truly ADORE, which means I pass along quite a few that I read to friends and family. I think the fact that I am purchasing books for 3 other people (ages 7 and under) also contributes to me not having as many of my own books to enjoy.

Despite my smaller collection, being able to see books one loves on a shelf gives me a tremendous sense of joy and pride and is one of many reasons why you'll never see me with an electronic reader.

Falling leaves

2011-11-08T12:02:00.000-08:00

Watching the kids play in autumn leaves is another of the reasons why I love this season. Our yard has immature trees, so we don't get a bunch of leaves from them. But my MIL's trees are 30+ years and so the leaf piles could grow immense if we attempted to rake them all.

When the kids tire of the leaf piles, they can always find other stuff to do.
Like hill rolling.....

And helping momma and Mamaw pick greens out of the garden....

The refinance dance

2011-11-07T09:11:00.000-08:00

D and I bought our home in June 2001. Our interest rate was 7.16% on a 30-year mortgage.

In 2002, we refinanced at 6.50% on a 30-year and shaved $119 off our monthly payment.

In 2003, we refinanced at 5.50% on a 30-year and dropped $137 off our monthly payment.

In 2009, we refinanced at 4.971% on a 20-year mortgage. Our monthly payment went up by $17.

Today we refinanced again at 3.75% on a 15-year mortgage. Our monthly payment will be going up a whopping $3 a month.

Over the years we have made extra payments on the principal. I believe we have about 45% equity in our home now.

Our first payment will be Jan 1, 2012, but we will make an extra payment at that time with the goal of putting any extra dollars towards the mortgage and paying this baby off in 11 years or less.

Fingers crossed.

Making use of what I have--Cool project #1 from old baby crib parts

2011-11-06T02:57:00.000-08:00

D and I have been married 14 years and in this house 10 of those. We are fully into the Duct Tape years (which I will blog more about at another time).

There are nicks in the paint, as well as holes in the walls from the baby gates. Except for when M was a newborn and we hired someone to paint N and G's jointly shared bedroom, I have been the one to paint the rooms in the house. It is cheap to paint if one does it herself and a super easy way to change the look of an entire room. But right now, with the boys being the ages they are, I simply don't have the time to do it myself, nor do I have the energy to paint AND clean up the messes that the boys would make should I attempt to do so with them around. Painting will have to wait a while.

But I am itching to make some small changes.

Having recently taken down the drop-side crib M was sleeping in, I also have crib parts that are taking up space in the closet. (We also have bits and pieces from N's crib which converted into her current full-size bed.)

The desire to make changes coupled with an increasing wish to reuse what we have and not purchase more stuff took me to the Internet for inspiration.

This is what I started with......the metal spring part of the crib on which the mattress rests.

I bought some of this...very flexible vinyl from Hancock's Fabrics. Maybe $5 worth from the scrap bin.

With the help of a glue gun, fabric scissors to cut the vinyl into strips and some tiny clothespins (all of which I already had around the house), I made this:

Now I have a place to put some of my all-time favorite pics of the kids since I only keep their most current pictures in frames on the walls. I figure if I get really inspired I can change it for the holidays--put only Halloween pics up in October, only Christmas pics up in December, and only Easter pics up in the spring. I can relive all the fun of past years seeing the kids as they've grown and changed.

What a perfect way to use something from their babyhoods throughout their lives.

Yep. Still mood-disordered

2011-11-05T17:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday marked 2 days in a row that G didn't nap, which is almost always a bad thing and gets me irritated once he hits his wall of crazy at 4:45 p.m.

But as I was picking up N and driving the kids to the bank at 4:15, I was overcome with absolute rage at mostly G but all the kids. I was grouching at every single thing they said and did, and I just felt utter hatred towards them. It dawned on me that I was probably overreacting, that while I might become frustrated or aggravated by them, I usually don't have the violent urge to bitch slap them, to stop the car, jump out and walk away from them, stranded along the side of the road.

It dawned on me that perhaps I should check my calendar to see what week of the month it is. Upon returning home I did so. This foulest of moods had an explanation.

Last night G woke me and continued keeping me up from 4 am until 5:30 or so. The first time he got up he said he wanted to play with his new toys, and then he had a coughing fit, and then he wanted to eat. He was up for good at 6:00 a.m.

SO, today hasn't been the greatest day for me mood-wise. (Plus, I am still battling my own upper respiratory funkiness that keeps me clearing my throat and coughing almost constantly.)

As much as I despise my once-a-month moodiness (which isn't even every month; sometimes the month flies by without so much as a mood blip), it reminds me of a couple things,

It reminds me just how horrible mood disorders are because if you are suffering in the thick of one you completely lose perspective of what is real and what is not. It's like being stuck in a dream in Inception without the kick that pulls you back to who you really are at the core.

Last night and most of today I felt like I couldn't control the deep anger rattling at my cage, the sense that my life is complete shit. And I know full well that I am very much contented most of the time. Feeling like you are "this close" to losing that grip on yourself, on your anger, on your ability to control your feelings and thoughts, is scary, even if like me, it's been 7 years since my breakdown and I am on medication and under the care of a psychiatrist. Once you've been through it once, I think you never lose the fear that you will some day feel that horrible again.

It reminds me that, in this month of giving thanks, I am so, so, so glad I live in a time of medication and therapy and support groups and open communication about mental illness and mood disorders. I don't like to think what I would be like, especially when it comes to my children, if I wasn't on medication. My Lexapro helps me keep the beast of anxiety (and extreme menstrual moodiness) at bay.

It reminds me that I am human, and while I don't like the idea of my kids seeing me at my shittiest, they also need to know that even though I am their momma and they feel the right to demand anything they want of me (as all children do of their parents), there are times when it is in their best interest to not be willfully aggravating. To just do as I ask.

It reminds me that my moods can be upsetting to the kids since I am usually not a raving harpy, and that I need to explain to them that yes, they might be aggravating me but my hormones and brain issues sometimes make it so I'm not as well equipped to handle the aggravations.

At some point this afternoon, I felt as if a switch had been turned off, and I was somewhat back to normal. Still grossly sleep-deprived (from last night as well as the years of being the only person to get up with the kids), but not a wild bull, not cringing in rage at every little noise my children made, not thinking that every aspect of my life was horrible.

I hope that is the extent of its course this time around.

Pee trained

2011-11-04T17:34:00.000-07:00

I broke. I decided that I was sick to death of spending a gazillion dollars on pull-ups. G was going into underpants during the day, and if I had to clean up pee on my floor for the rest of time, then so be it. I bought him some Star Wars underpants to get him going and told him he was in charge---if he had to pee, he should let me know.

On Sunday he peed on the potty for the first time ever. There was much celebrating in the powder room---hugs and kisses and I might have shrieked, "I am SO PROUD OF YOU!!" The remainder of Sunday he leaked a few times.
He hasn't leaked since.
He has stayed dry at night (all night) and woken me up during the night to pee.
He is still pooping in his underpants but I can handle this, especially since he (unlike his sister when she was bowel-training) doesn't sit in it, squooshing it into the underwear and making it impossible to get out with an easy flip over the toilet bowl.

Almost a week in, the excitement of seeing pee come out of his penis has waned for me, but not him. He likes having me as his audience so we can high-five and knuckle-knock and he can ask, "Are you so proud of me?"

In addition to letting him pick out a big pack of Cars 2 underpants, I also bought him a car transporter/carrying case toy as a reward for doing so well and his Mamaw took him shopping today for a "G is Totally Rocking the Potty" gift.

Normally I don't like the idea of buying gifts as rewards for the kids, but I am levitating with excitement at the prospect of having a little extra cash every month.

My side gig

2011-11-03T19:01:00.000-07:00

For about 18 months or so I have been freelance writing for a local family magazine. What began as an occasional and unpaid activity has become a regular column that gives me a little extra spending money. I may begin writing for the magazine's recently launched blog.

The best things about freelancing for this magazine are that I can do 90% of my work from home, at any time of the day, and I write about family life.

Having been out of the full-time workforce for almost 8 years, it has been a little weird to be "professional" again. I have become so accustomed to behaving as N, G and M's mom that I don't really remember how to behave as Carrie, the employee. It is a very loose facade I wear, and I am forever fretting that I may lapse into talking about poop or Optimus Prime or Elmo or Justin Bieber or some other conversation that is completely out of line with what regular grownups in regular jobs discuss regularly.

I have more or less decided that when M begins kindergarten I will begin subbing at the kids' schools as well as for former colleagues and friends who are still in the ranks. A couple days a week with maybe one long-term subbing job periodically would be ideal. I would still be able to do things at home and spend time with my mom. Within the next five years it would make me incredibly happy to go out to lunch with her and not have to hit the exit within 30 minutes before the kids morph into banshees.

As much as thinking about doing this sometimes feels like a light at the end of what will be an 11-year tunnel of full-time stay-at-home mothering and its associated drudgeries, I also know how much I sometimes really, really enjoy being home with the boys, our little routine of just us, and how much neat stuff I was able to do with N before she began kindergarten.

For now, the freelancing gig is perfect. It gives me a little self-esteem boost and intellectual challenge but allows my heart to stay where it needs to be----at home with my kids.

Halloween 2011 (and the tomfoolery that preceeded it)

2011-11-02T18:16:00.000-07:00

Rapunzel, a Viking and a medieval Knight went to a bar.
If I had more imagination I could probably figure out an actual punchline to go along with that, but I don't.

In my neck of the woods, Rapunzel, a Viking and a medieval Knight went trick-or-treating.

But there was much activity leading up to this, such as the decorating of the front porch which took place in early October:

That was followed by a friend's Halloween party where there was much candy-eating and trampoline-jumping.

I made myself a tutu and had extra tulle, so I made one for N. She decided to be a witch like mama, except she got decked out in a leotard and red hat.

That was followed by pumpkin-carving.

The kids named the pumpkins Scary (G's), Christina Aguiscara (N with help from her Daddy), and Dis (M). When we asked M what he wanted to name his pumpkin, he pointed to it and said, "Dis?" So it stuck.

This was followed by N's school party:

This was followed by G's school party:

Ah, the joy that is being given lots and lots of candy!

It is not an understatement to say I am glad October is over. I need to recover.

Nov 1 = NaBloPoMo again and a special anniversary

2011-11-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

For the past few years I have blogged every day in the month of November, so I'm gonna give it a go another year.

I am also going to give my marriage a go for another year, today marking 14 years of wedded togetherness for me and D. I assume he is gonna stick around for another 365 as well.

In the car the other day, N was asking me questions about her daddy and me and our relationship when we met, so I thought I'd post some D and me trivia.

1. D and I met in 1995 at the dental insurance company we both worked at while in college. Actually we had sorta been eyeing each other for a little while and formally spoke at an after-hours gathering at a local bar. And by formally spoke, I think D said maybe 2 sentences to me. If memory serves, I believe I was talking to one of his co-worker's husband a lot (which also might be calling flirting).

2. The first time he called me I was sitting outside reading Pearl S. Buck's The Good Earth.

3. Our first date was that afternoon. We took a walk in the park. When he dropped me off at my car (it was a Sunday), he asked me out for the following Friday.

4. Our second date was to a play and dinner. D didn't say much at dinner (anyone see a trend here?). When we got back to my house, we went for a walk through the neighborhood in the dark....and he started talking. He said he liked the movie Orlando. He got bonus points for that.

5. One of our very early dates was when D went sky-diving for the first time and took me along. I remember wondering how I was supposed to act if his chute didn't open and crashed into the ground. I figured the television news would interview me and since I wasn't his girlfriend and barely knew him, I wasn't sure what kind of emotion I should convey.

6. Aside from these early ones, I don't remember too many of our other dates. We went to see the movies Farinelli and Carrington and others at a small theater that has long since closed down. And we slept alot since at the time our allergies were untreated so in the spring and fall we were groggy and congested. Ahh, sweet love.

7. D proposed on bended knee while we were on a Carnival cruise in May 1996.

Maybe I'll do more trivia as the week progresses. I'll be desperate for ideas, I'm sure, doing this daily blogging thing.

More occupied thoughts

2011-10-30T18:44:00.000-07:00

This morning, D almost accused me of being a Republican for my comments in my last post about the Occupy Wall Street movement, and I have to admit it did sound a little uncharacteristic of me. He and I and his mom got into a pretty heated discussion about the economy in fact, which made me think even more thoughts.

* Lord knows I am no historian, but my impression is that the middle class is a product of the late 19th and 20th centuries. My impression is that prior to the Industrial Revolution there was no middle class. There was the very, very rich and everyone else. So I wonder if a persistent and consistent middle class structure is sustainable?

* I think one of the things I dislike about the whole Occupy movement is that there isn't a defined "goal" or plan of action. Some people are against bank bailouts and some people are bringing up the Iraq War and some people are against too high tuition at universities. And it is hard for me to support a cause if I'm not very sure of what the cause is about. I am equally against all those things, but a movement against everything sometimes seems like a giant bitch session....which is the jist of what I read among people who definitely don't support the Occupy movement.

* I completely disagree with the Supreme Court's decision to ban corporate spending limits for campaigns. Corporations are not individuals and should not have the same rights as guaranteed by the Constitution. They have the potential to become far too financially powerful which means politically powerful.

* I don't like it that government money was spent to bail out the banks that invested in mortgage-backed securities, but I believe that had the government not done this our economy would be in even worse shape than it is now.

* Corporations have the potential to be greedy and unethical and all the other nasty adjectives you can think of, and so I strongly support regulations on them.
BUT
* I also think corporations are not 100% to blame for this mess we're in. Poor choices, uneducated decisions and a society fueled by bread and circuses (ala The Kardashians) played a role too. At least 25%.

* Corporations move their manufacturing to countries where they can produce items cheaper, which we like because stuff costs less and when companies profit we make greater returns on our 401(k) investments. But companies moving their manufacturing to cheaper countries means fewer jobs for our workers---often those who don't have college degrees---which we don't like. We want cheap-ass stuff but we also want high wages for our workers, and those two things haven't found a way to jive.

* The American Dream of the 1940 and 50s is not the same American Dream of the 21st century. Families in the 40s and 50s did not have televisions (and satellite television hookup) in every bedroom. plus the family room and basement. Children shared bedrooms and did not have Jack-n-Jill baths. Homes did not have central air. Families that did own a car typically owned 1 car. The square footage of an average home in 1950 was less than 1000 square feet.

I think the "problem with our economy" is firmly linked with a "cultural problem with our society," and it is far too complex to say that 1% is to blame. Not that the 1% shouldn't be chastised/penalized/regulated for the greedy things they've done to make money (Bernie Madoffs and likeminded individuals). But the 99% of us should also look very closely at what we do and what we expect as well.

Occupy Wall Street occupies my thoughts.

2011-10-29T18:26:00.000-07:00

I have a whole lot of thoughts about the Occupy Wall Street movement so I'm just gonna lay 'em out in no particular order.

1. Many, many, many people in the US own mutual funds or are stockholders (mostly through their 401(k)s). And because those people own stock, they are benefiting from capitalism in the form of dividends and stock splits and 8% return on their investments over time. Capitalism is an ugly beast at times, but just as the Tea Partiers who yelled for smaller government and in the same breath said "Don't Touch my Social Security" were uninformed, so are many of the Occupiers who bitch about capitalism.

2. Yes, the banks were stupid to give mortgages to any Tom, Dick or Harry who asked for one. But the Toms, Dicks and Harrys should have considered a little more whether they could actually afford a $300,000.00 home if they were only making $25,000.00 a year. Banks are always willing to lend someone WAY more money than what they can actually afford. You buy what you can safely afford. Period.

3. Despite what we think, we do not need iPhones. We do not need to spend a zillion dollars a month so we can text our friends to tell them we are sitting at home doing nothing. We do not need to furnish our homes completely the instant we move in. We do not need to own 65 pairs of shoes. These are things we WANT. And we have decided, as a society, that what what we WANT trumps good common sense. (And if what you want cannot be paid for in a month's time (when your credit card bill comes due), you DO NOT buy it.)

4. The recession has been a bitch, to be sure. But unemployment among college-educated people is 4.2%, compared to 9.4% among those with only a high school degree. And while many of those with just a high school degree are dropping out of the work force completely, many college educated folks are slowly finding jobs.

5. I graduated from college 16 years ago, way before this recession. The same was true then as is true now---some degrees are interesting but kinda useless. They in NO WAY guarantee you will get a decent-paying job or a job in your degree field. As an English major, I can speak from experience. Those folks I know who majored in history and sociology and psychology are NOT working as historians and sociologists and psychologists.

Thus far it sounds as if I am very anti-Occupy Wall Street, but I am not. I am not 100% behind it, but I am not 100% behind anything.

I do feel compassion for many, many people out there who are working full-time and still require food stamps or have to use state-sponsored health care programs for their children and themselves because their employer doesn't offer it. I feel compassion for older workers who need a job and were let go because companies can hire younger workers and pay them less. I feel compassion for women who unexpectedly became pregnant and had to drop out of college to care for their newborns and work. I feel compassion for people who had health crises that depleted their savings and are now struggling, working paycheck to paycheck. I feel compassion for people whose parents never taught them how to be financially sound, to balance a checkbook, to not use credit as a form of "free money."

I don't know when I learned it, but it didn't take an Economics degree for me to understand that nothing in life is free. If there is any good to come from this recession, it is for people to remember this.

Outstandings (Os), Satisfactorys (Ss), and who really cares?

2011-10-29T17:34:00.000-07:00

I try and will continue to try to keep a level head about grades as my children move through school. Sure, N is only in 2nd grade, but I have to think of my own life experiences as both a student and a teacher and try to dial down the "neurotic parent" part of me.

During early elementary, I didn't think a whit about grades. My grades were alright....mostly As and Bs, with maybe a C thrown in there. It wasn't until 7th and 8th grade that I remember becoming fanatical about getting As. Maybe this was when the OCD really kicked in? Maybe my focus on my grades was because I suffered so much socially that I wanted to grab control of something I felt I could control?

All through high school I worked ridiculously hard to get really high grades, and while I managed to get a small scholarship to college, I certainly didn't get anywhere near a full ride or even a half-ride (hell, my scholarship wasn't even a quarter-ride), which I thought good grades and being highly involved extracurricularly would get me.

Despite this, I continued to work ridiculously hard in college for high grades. I double-majored in English and Economics and graduated summa cum laude, which means my GPA was 3.90 or higher.

Bully for me, but my first job paid as an editor at an electronic publishing company paid $17,000.00 a year (in 1995). This was beans then, and it is even fewer beans now. My first full-time job after college was great because I could wear jeans to work, but it was also tedious and didn't challenge me in the least after the first 3 months. I stayed for 5 years to take advantage of tuition reimbursement benefits. (The company paid half of my Masters of Arts in Teaching.)

So even though I worked hard and got high grades, that did not translate into a grand salary or a satisfying career. It was a j.o.b.

I loved being a teacher, and even though a teacher's salary isn't high, I felt like I was making a zillion dollars a year compared to what I made as an editor. Plus I had loads of time off. And I loved what I was doing. And I was challenged every.single.day.

But from a teacher's perspective I saw (again) how pointless grades are.

I taught upper middle class kids whose parents read to them from early ages and ensured homework was completed and came to conferences (these kids were considered "advanced") and many of those kids got As. I also taught very poor kids whose parents never came to conferences and where not at grade level in reading and math and who, compared to the advanced kids, were SO FAR behind they would never catch up, and yet some of them managed to get As too.

So what did an A mean, then? For many kids, it meant that they turned in all their work on time (and if they botched it and I gave them an opportunity to redo it, they redid it correctly.) For many kids, it meant they took advantage of extra credit whenever it was offered at the end of the grading period. For some kids, it meant they redid and redid and redid writing assignments until they were actually fairly pretty good (given where they had started.)

I remember one student of mine who could barely read at all and his spelling was even worse. He was the sweetest kid, and he really desperately tried to do well. And I passed him because he always made an effort to redo his work and I thought this kid deserved something for effort. I didn't pass him with an A or a B or even a C (maybe a C- or D+). And I didn't feel guilty doing this because somehow some other teachers had passed him along so that he got to 6th grade unable to read. (I don't blame the teachers because often administrative policies play a role in kids getting passed along when everyone knows they absolutely should not.)

An A didn't necessarily mean a student was a genius or destined for greatness or whatever it is parents think an A (or an "O for outstanding" means).

Whenever I hear moms I know carry on about whether their child got an "O" or an "S," I just want to roll my eyes, maybe retch a little. I share with them some of my experiences to help them understand that a grade doesn't actually tell them as much about their child as they think it does.

I fervently hope that my children have what I think really matters in educational life.

*a true love of learning new things at every stage of their lives.

*a desire to keep at something even if they find it to be difficult.

*a love of reading whatever it is they like to read (even if other people think it doesn't "count" as literature).

And that their momma doesn't get bogged down by the absurdity that is grades.

The weekend that kicked our collective asses--Sunday

2011-10-27T19:14:00.000-07:00

Saturday afternoon we were covered from stem to stern with hay, but we ventured out into nature again on Sunday.

N's Girl Scout troop made a scarecrow for a local forest's Scarecrow Jubilee celebration, and we wanted to see it on display before it got too cool to visit. Nana and Pa (my parents) met us there.

N with Brownie the Girl Scout.

The tree canopy walk was pretty cool to see. Got a great view of the changing leaves.

We headed to the children's play area next to picnic and let the kids run wild.

Momma got hay thrown at her face on Saturday, and on Sunday was pummeled with gum tree balls. Nana got whacked with some too. G can be what some people refer to as a "dick."

I hope when I'm 73 years old I have what it takes to jump up and even reach the bars. GO NANA!!

The weekend that kicked our collective asses--Saturday

2011-10-26T19:30:00.000-07:00

Our usual weekend routine is to maybe do a family activity on Saturday morning and then lay low until late Sunday afternoon when we visit Mamaw for dinner.

But this past weekend was different.

Saturday morning we visited a nearby county farm where we went on a hayride, picked pumpkins and enjoyed lots of fun in and on the hay. I first visited this farm when N was 18 months old (2005), and have gone with the kids in 2008, 2009, 2010 and this year. (G was a newborn in 2007, but I have no idea why we didn't go in 2006?)

Being there on a beautiful fall day with my family brings me tremendous joy, seeing them enjoy it now and remembering all the wonderful visits we've had in the past.

In honor of our family tradition, I present Pumpkin Picking Past and Present:

2005--N was around 18 months old.

This (above) is one of my all-time most cherished photos of N.

2008--With N (who was 3-and-a-half) and G (who was a year old)

In 2009, with N (who was 5), G (who was 2) and me (who was ready to pop M out).

In 2010, with N (age 6), G (age 3) and M (age 1)

And this year, 2011, with N (age 7), G (age 4) and M (age 2)

Love this pic of my babies.