Day of dance

Today was so busy.

D took off work so we could take N to see the matinee of The Nutcracker. She really enjoyed it. Her mouth just kinda gaped open most of the performance. At one point she looked up and me and said, "Wow!"

During the dance of the Snow Queen, a bubble machine was turned on so that it "snowed" on the audience from above. That was pretty darn magical to have it snowing on us as we watched the snowflakes dancing on stage.

After lunch, my mom, N and I went to Santa's Depot, which is like a winter wonderland, full of lit Christmas trees, a bazillion ornaments and nativity scenes. I have started a tradition of letting the kids "buy" each other ornaments, although this means that until G has an opinion, N gets to select both her ornament and his.

She was going to pick a baby with a pacifier in its mouth for him, but I told her that one was a "Baby's 1st Christmas," so she selected a tractor for him since he likes anything with wheels. Rather than picking a ballerina for herself, she chose a girl in a karate uniform since she likes Kung-Fu Panda so much. I said, "But, N, you don't take karate lessons." She then proceeded to show me her kung-fu moves in the middle of the store to prove that she did, indeed, know her martial arts stuff. Whatev.

Tonight, N performed with her dance class at a local nursing home. She was so cute. While I was putting G to bed before we left, I had D snap some pics of her in her costume.




As I was videotaping her while they performed, I couldn't help but think of her as both so grown up and such a wee little girl. I heard someone referring to raising young children as a season in your life, and that there is a time for all seasons. I know that with her getting closer to age 5 and starting kindergarten next year, a new and different season will be upon us, and while that is exciting, it is also sad to see a much-loved season pass on.

There but for the grace of God go I

My father-in-law used to tell me I squeaked when I walked....as in so tight with money. And while I don't think I'm so tight I could turn a penny into a diamond with just my ass, I do tend to be pretty frugal (as noted in my wishlist post from the other day).

But around Christmas time I really struggle with my inner spendthrift, who is also quite judgmental.

I am trying to teach N about giving to the less fortunate during this Christmas season. Since we "do" Santa in our house, I explained to her that some families move around an awful lot because they don't have a whole lot of money, which makes it really hard for Santa to find them to bring presents. And while N and G have presents sitting under the tree right now from Mommy and Daddy, alot of parents can't afford to give their children much if anything at all, so that is why we help out because we are fortunate that Daddy has a good job.

And this year she has been quite eager and willing to give of her gently used toys for a toy drive in Harlan County and look for clothes/toys for a little girl we are sponsoring from The Family and Children's Place.

Unfortunately, I am the one who is finding it hard to share. Sorta.

Today at Wal-Mart, I asked N to help me find a shirt and pants for the little girl. I buy cheap clothes for N....either at Wal-Mart, Target or at consignment sales. It is very rare that I purchase something from a mall store for her. So I headed for the less expensive clothes for our "angel." And by this, I mean the $5 and $6.50 shirts and pants. N saw some Hannah Montana pajamas, and said, "Let's get these." But they were almost $14.00. I had seen some non-HM pajamas for almost $10.00, so I suggested we get those so we would have more money for a toy.

Then in the toy department, N kept picking out Little Mommy dolls which are upwards of $16.00, but I found a less expensive, non-brand one for around $10.00. We went to look for a coloring book, but I wasn't about to pay $3.47 for one, when I knew I could get something equally cute from the Dollar Tree.

Between Wal-Mart and the Dollar Tree, we ended up buying her 2 shirts, a pair of pants, a 3-pack of undies, a pajama set, a baby doll, a coloring book, a pack of crayons, and a Littlest Pet Shop toothbrush pack. All nice stuff, I think, but I kept feeling cheap, like I should buy more or buy better. I kept telling myself that I buy inexpensive as much as possible for my own kids, so I should NOT feel guilty buying these things for a disadvantaged child, but it didn't work. I still felt sorta chintzy.

I know I am blessed and fortunate to have what my family has. I am blessed and fortunate to have parents who were both raised in poverty but worked and saved their way out of it and stressed education and fiscal responsibility to their children. I know that it is because I buy wisely that I am able to do the things I am able to do with and for my own family. I know that if something bad happened I have family who would take us in and provide us help (and I know there are lots of people who don't have that).

But a little tiny judgmental part of me gets its panties in a twist this time of year.

I feel guilty on the one hand because I don't shop at Gymboree for my "angel," and I feel frustration at all the parents of the world who don't have enough to care for their kids. It is not the fault of the kids, and so many parents only repeat the poor parenting/caregiving cycle they experienced as children, but I still get wrankled. As much as I want the government to butt out of my personal life and choices, I tend to want the government to butt into other people's lives and prevent them from having more babies or any babies if they can't afford them, care for them respectfully or responsibly, or provide a stable home life.

The holiday season is especially fun when I have an internal wrestling match going on between the angel on my one shoulder and the devil on the other.

So, in the end, I buy the stuff at Wal-Mart, I give N money to take to school to "adopt" children for Christmas, I encourage her to donate gently used toys, and I drop coins into the red kettles, hoping that the season will soften my heart, make me less judgmental, help me find peace.

My wishlist

Sometimes I put together a little list of things I'd like to get myself at some point in the near future, but this list is always terribly disappointing because it is always uber-practical stuff for the house...not for me. Or if it is for me, it is underwear or socks. So darn exciting.

I have mixed feelings about my wishlist (whenever I get a hankering to make one up).

On the one hand, I really wish I could think of something(s) I really want. I kinda wished I wanted an iPhone or iPod or Coach purse. Something that would be my own little toy. But I would kill (with a capital K) D if he bought me an expensive techie gadget because my basic FB and email and blogging needs are met with the ancient laptop I have (that is being borrowed, I might add). And I'm not interested in clothes, shoes, purses, cosmetics, body lotions... basically anything girly. (Anybody who has actually seen me in real-time knows how true this is).

On the other hand, I'm kinda proud of my inability to think of stuff I want because it makes me feel like I am not materialistic and I know what is most important---experiences and personal growth.

When it comes to buying for myself, I can talk myself out of purchasing anything. I cannot (in my mind) justify buying a book to read for the book club I'm in unless I can get it for under $5. So if a book is relatively new and popular and I can't get a book from the library, I just don't go to bookclub that month.

Recently, I saw an address book, and I thought, "Hey, I could use one of these," even though this doesn't really qualify as a gift for me since it has a household purpose. But then I thought, "Well, my current address book isn't falling apart." And it is not falling apart, but it is old, and names/addresses have been crossed out all over the place. It came in the mail as a "Welcome to the Community" gift, so I didn't even shell out any of my own money to purchase it 7 years ago when we moved into this house, but I still think, "Nah, I don't really need a new one."

You would think I had lived through the Great Depression.

So here is my pathetic wishlist that I am currently keeping on the refrigerator:
1. address book
2. knife for putting icing on cakes & cupcakes
3. basting brush
4. Harry Potter books 5, 6, and 7

Only #4 would even remotely qualify as a personal gift because 1-3 are for the home. And #4 is something N or G would eventually inherit.

I sure hope the Treasury and Federal Reserve aren't relying on little ole me to jumpstart this economy.

Doing teen boys

I read an article in the paper today about a pregnant woman who is in jail awaiting arraignment for raping/sodomizing a 15-year-old boy. She is 25 years old. The fetus may or may not be the teen's child.

I was pretty stupid at 25 years old, but I can assure you that I never wanted to bed a teenage boy.

Now I can totally see and even understand a 25-year-old man wanting to bed a 15-year-old girl because...men are dogs. There is a long, long history of older men bedding and marrying young girls. It happens to this day. I'm not saying it is right, but from an evolutionary perspective, a older man impregnating a 13-year-old makes reproductive sense. Not common sense, but reproductive sense.

But I cannot believe a woman would really have any interest in a teenage boy. What is even remotely appealing about a teenage boy? Are they more pliable and easily manipulated than a 35-year-old man? I'm sure this has to be part of it.

When I was teaching, there were these two 8th graders who would come to my room to chat after school sometimes. One I had taught when he was in 6th grade, and the other I had taught during summer school. Nice kids, but perhaps 2 of the biggest doofusses (or is it doofusi?) on the planet. I could tolerate a 3-minute visit from them before the sheer stupidity of their conversation melted parts of my brain. Why would a woman want to subject herself to this kind of conversation on a regular, intimate basis?

And there is nothing appealing about the "boy" look. This is one of the reasons I don't like Leonardo DiCaprio in most of his movies because he looks too much like a child. The only movie I really found him attractive in was Gangs of New York because he looked more manly, more gruff. Older than 14 years old.

Ok, by blogging about this I'm giving myself the willies so I better sign off, but the article really confounded me. Even more than the economy right now, and that is pretty hard to do.

How have we kept it together?

I asked D the other night if I am hard to live with, and he gave me "the look," which means, "Why do you ask me questions that you know you don't really want the answers to?"

Then I asked him if I am as hard to live with as his sister, and he gave a definitive, "No." So I feel a little better.

Last Sunday, I was way irritated and irritating, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. I had just had a period, so I knew hormones weren't to blame. And then the lightbulb turned on, and I realized that D had been home from work for 4 days IN A ROW. And when D is home too many days in a row, I start to go bonkers for a number of reasons.

First, when he is home too long, it really interferes with my stay-at-home routine. If he sleeps in, I feel like I shouldn't vacuum or drag the kids upstairs so I can clean the bathrooms....because he is on vacation.

Which brings me to point #2. When he is off work for many days in a row, I get to be reminded for many days in a row that I never get a day off. I get to cook, clean, and tend to the kids every single day without a break. I don't get to leave my workplace because my home is my workplace. Yes, it is my choice to stay home, but it kinda makes one a bit pissy to see the hubs dorking around while I am folding laundry or sweeping 8 tons of glitter off the floor.

Thirdly, after a number of days off D starts to get a little bored, so he paces. He kinda wanders aimlessly around the house, mostly in the kitchen, where I usually am. While he is pacing, trying to figure out what he wants to do, I am looking at the toy & junk fallout from G and N, thinking to myself, "If you want something to do, how about picking up some toys and stashing them? Or taking the laundry out of the dryer? Or do the dishes sitting in the sink?"

Now D is a brilliant computer dude. He can wrap his head around engineering stuff that I couldn't understand in a million years. But he is not so good with things household related, and by this I mean, cooking, cleaning, dusting, straightening, folding, sorting, hanging, etc. Don't misunderstand--he is a very neat man. His clothes land in the hamper; he hangs things up. But the subtleties of household maintenance are beyond him.

And he is not alone in this. I can't tell you the number of times my mother has told me how my dad would always ask, "Is there anything I can do?" which drove her batty. She felt like saying to him, "Man, open your eyes! Do you not see all the stuff there is around here that needs doing!"

While I hope D and I live long, healthy lives, I do pray that if one of us has to die while the kids are kids, it is him. And the reason I pray this is because if I die, he and the children will sucuumb soon after due to starvation or suffocation from the plague of dust bunnies that will take over the house.

I told D that I was blogging about him being off work 4 days in a row, and he reminded me that he will have from Dec 25 to Jan 1 off.

Crap.

Would this be wrong? (I mean tacky)

I am increasingly getting into buying gently used items and selling our gently used items. Aside from the expense, I just feel a certain moral imperative to try to reduce the amount of new things we purchase, thereby (hopefully) resulting in less waste of resources.

For the most part, I buy the kids' clothes at consignment sales. We bought N's bike this summer second hand from Schwinn. My birthday purchases were at Plato's Closet for jeans (how wonderful...to buy $20 Abercrombie jeans that are already comfortably broken in, so I don't have to do it). And a number of the kids' Christmas presents are in their second lifetimes.

Now, my dilemma (well, that is exaggerating; let's call it a slight concern):

I really love Half-Price Books, a store that sells gently used or brand new overstock books. You generally can't find the bestsellers there, but I am always able to find something that I want to read. And it is an awesome place to buy kids' books. I can get Barbie, Disney Princess and Strawberry Shortcake books there for usually a $1 or more less than what I would spend at Borders. And they have bookcases packed with clearance books....like $.25 books. Heck, even if we only read it once or twice, it is well worth a quarter.

So since I am more and more into reduce/reuse/recycle, I thought I would purchase gift cards at Half-Price books for N's preschool teacher, as well as her dance teacher. But I wonder if they would be insulted if I get them a gift card to what is essentially a book consignment store?

When I was a teacher, I was thrilled to get gift cards to anywhere. There are only so many "Best Teacher" ornaments and tchotchkes a person can have without having to rent storage space. It was so, so nice to get even a $5 card to Kroger or Wal-Mart.

And her dance teacher is young, like 15. I thought about a gift card to McDonald's, but I don't really want to encourage unhealthy eating. And I thought about just giving her cash, but I kinda want to support the economy.

So, faithful or unfaithful readers, what do ya think?

Full of holes

Well, G is, at least.

This morning he had bilateral tubes put in to hopefully reduce or (if we're super lucky) eliminate his chronic ear infections. As friends had warned, he was absolutely out of it upon returning to us from the recovery room, but after a nap at home, he was ready to eat and play for a bit. He is napping again as I type this.

The doctor said G did have fluid in his ears, but no infection. Of course, as far as I'm concerned, it was only a matter of time before another round of antibiotics. G started sounding congested yesterday, so I wasn't at all surprised to hear there was gunk in there.

While I didn't white knuckle it during the surgery or in the last few days, I did sleep horribly last night, even with half a Unisom.

I dreamed that D, N and I took G up to the Cincinnati Children's Hospital (I honestly don't even know if there is such a place, but that's where we were in my dream). And we were having to go into all these different rooms, down long corridors, even getting back in our car to drive to another building in an attempt to register G. There were huge long lines of parents with their children, waiting for the next available surgery window. N was bored and acting out, nearly getting hit by a car at one point when she jumped out of our car.

Suffice it to say, I was unconsciously worried about today. My dear friend K called last night to check in on me and offer to bring a meal to us tonight. What a doll! Considering how poorly I slept last night and how tiring it is to try to hang onto a 14-month-old coming off anesthesia, I am glad I accepted her offer.

One thing I have wondered during all this is whether other parents stew over stuff as much as I do or do they just go, "Ok, needs tubes. No biggie." As I told K last night, I just have to go through a certain amount of "try everything under the sun to avoid surgery." I did it with my c-section when G was breech; I did it with ear tubes.

It would be nice to take things in stride a little better, and, believe it or not, I do compared to how I would have handled this in my life pre-antidepressant. While D and I were waiting today, I started thinking about folks who have cosmetic surgery, not because they got half their face bitten off by wild dogs, but people who just want bigger boobs or tighter abdominal muscles or no crow's feet.

I will go to the grave with my tiny boobs, flabby abs and a whole flock of crow's feet. Rode hard and put away wet.