How I buy wine

I think it is kinda funny and more than a little pretentious the way some people "do" wine. Swirl it in their glass. Waft the air above the rim with their hands to savor the bouquet. Taste a little bit to get a sense of the flavors. How people can sip a little wine and know it has hints of tangerine, mocha and woodchuck is beyond me. But I am not a high society gal.

So when I go to stock up our wine rack, I have two things in mind: Price (must be under $10 per bottle) and Art (does the bottle and/or label look cool).

I purchase a couple bottles of wines I like---riesling and other sweeter wines---and a couple bottles of wines D likes---those that taste like wet salt.

D sometimes tries to imitate a wine connoisseur (swirling, smelling, sipping), and I'm never sure if he is being serious or not. So I always make fun of him.

Today's 6 bottles totaled $40 (all were on sale, and I got a 10% discount for purchasing 6). A German riesling in a cute pink bottle. One with running cats on the label. Another called Juno with a mythologically beautiful woman on the bottle. The other 3 I can't remember.

Prior to kids, we toured a couple of wineries during our travels. It was always fun, but I never "got it." I could never taste the hints of whatever flavors were supposed to be infused throughout the wine. I could never understand paying a shitload for crushed grapes.

I can appreciate the art of wines/winemaking from an ideological stand, but from in my practical reality, cheap and pretty are the way I roll.

Our day

I thought about having this be a picture-only post, but it would be totally unlike me not to have some witty (or stupid) comments to share.

This little hottie went to her preschool party all decked out as Santa's elf. The other girls wore their rather "conservative" Christmas dresses (long-sleeves, no cleavage). My baby is gonna rock the pole one day.

See how limber she is already.

See how friendly she is with men.

The after-party was at Chuck E. Cheese's. G loved the train.
Didn't quite know what to think of Mr. Cheese sitting next to him.

N likes the real Cheese.

The family that plays skee-ball together, stays together.

The 15-month-old who got us kicked out of Chuck E. Cheese's for disorderly conduct.

My kids are nuts! But they have so much character.

Booking

I DO NOT want the next two weeks to involve N plastered to the couch staring at the tv. And with the cold weather and my utter refusal to do things out in public with everyone else who's children are out of school, the possibility of aforementioned is very, very real.

So, I am playing Social Coordinator. We have 2 playdates arranged, and are working on a 3rd. I don't know yet how many I intend to squeeze in.

During this same 2 week period, D will be off work for 7 days straight. 7 DAYS PEOPLE!!!

My husband and the school system at large are trying to kill me.

My hope is that N will be content having friends with whom to play, while D is somewhere in the basement doing whatever it is he does down there. And no one will be pacing the floors, getting under my feet or in my way, or relaxing too much in front of me. Or complaining.

I will allow them to breathe in my presence. That is acceptable.

Am I one of those moms?

I just did something I never thought I would do. Something I think is pretty uncharacteristic of me (you can argue if you'd like).

You ready?

I sent in G's picture to a local magazine for a Beautiful Baby Contest.

The last time this magazine had a beautiful baby contest there were some ferociously ugly babies that graced the pages (they showed all the entries, not just the main winner). I showed my mother the magazine to see what she thought, and I didn't preface it with, "Check out these homely looking babies." Ok, well, maybe I did, but she totally agreed with me that a boatload of 'em apparently had parents with poor, poor eyesight and no vision insurance.

Anyway, when I picked up this magazine at the grocery the other day and saw the Beautiful Baby Contest announcement, I thought about their last contest. I don't expect to win, but I just thought my goober-grinned kid has at least as much cuteness as the kids from last year.

(Editorial note: While writing this, I looked on thesaurus.com for some adjectives for ugly and found, among others, appalling, disfigured, frightful, grisly, repugnant, loathsome, all of which seemed a little hard-core to use with little wee ones. Which made me momentarily question how hard of a heart I must have to think of those particular infants as being that ugly.)

Hmmmmm. (I think to myself whether there is a special ring of hell for people like me...regarding baby beauty, that is. I know there are rings for my other faults.)

Nah, they was ugly.

Really bad mother of the day

Up until today I had never screamed at N. I had been gruff, a little sarcastic, a little inpatient at times, severe in a strangely calm way, but I had never let off a full-fledged harpy-like, "So help me god" scream. I guess that is pretty good for having been a mom for nearly 5 years.

I had just absolutely had it with her attitude and pokiness this morning. There were around 6 things I wanted to get done before G's nap: pick up a Santa suit from a friend's house, deposit a check, buy diapers & wipes, rent a DVD in order to use up a free rental coupon, mail letters, and return books to the library.

Once I had gotten myself and G dressed, I told her to get dressed. She informed me that there was a cartoon she wanted to watch on tv. Since I rarely watch tv, I don't have much patience with anyone who puts tv before living life, especially my preschooler. I told her the DVD rental was for her (which it was), so that helped motivate her to get her clothes on.

Getting her shoes on was another matter. I don't know what the heck she was doing, but I had G and all the junk I needed in the car and she was still putzing around. When she finally did get into the garage, she was packing 3 books, a Barbie, her bear, and her paci, all of which was jumbled in her arms nearly falling to the floor multiple times. And making her move even slower. As if it was even possible.

Then she saw that I had put about 6 of the big cardboard tubes that holiday wrapping paper winds around in the recycling bin. Rather than getting in the car, she grabs the one she had started to decorate (and never finished), thereby making all the other precariously balanced junk in her arms start to slide. And she starts whining that she wants to keep it so she can decorate it. Like I'm throwing away shards of gold.

It was at this point that my head popped off my body, and my mouth screeched, "GET IN THE CAR NOW!!!!!"

What followed was an overflow of tears from N and an overflow of guilt from me.

I apologized to her immediately and told her I loved her. I also asked her how she felt when I yelled. I told her this is how I feel when she yells at me and is disrespectful. I told her it wasn't right for mommy to yell, and that mommy had lost her patience.

But she was a jewel while we were running errands. Never once complained, and she always finds something about which to complain. I guess since I never scream, N knew I meant business and was fed the hell up.

She forgave me much sooner than I will forgive myself.

Premature aging

D and I might as well be 95-years-old and living in a nursing home. Well, I would be a spry 90.5-year-old, but we would both only be able to handle gimping down the hall to the cafeteria for bingo once a month.

Last night was D's company Christmas party. We left at 6:00 and returned home around 10:30. We didn't get drunk. We didn't salsa dance or play fierce air guitar. Our evening involved having 2 drinks of wine each, eating a meal, chatting with friends, watching an improv group, and then driving home. Low key.

And yet, we are absolutely exhausted today. Getting home at 10:30 means chatting with D's mom (who was watching the kids) until 11:00, which means getting into bed at 11:20, which means reading until 11:45ish.

When we got on the expressway last night and ran into traffic, I said, "THIS is why we never go anywhere at night or on the weekends. I hate THIS!" I'm such a grumpy old geezer.

I love to be active during the day. But once the sun goes down I want to be home. I want to put the kids to bed early, have time to check email, read blogs and write if desired, and read in bed for a good long time.

And then tonight was busy. We took a cake to D's grandpa who turned 84-years-old today. Papaw makes us look BAD! He went and helped his son cut down trees today at Rough River.

Geez, D and I are pathetic.

Big boy babbles

D and my brother asked me if I am going to cut the little mullet that G is sporting, but I refuse. Cutting his hair will make him look like a little boy, and I want to hang on as long as I can to my baby. I know this is why I am still nursing him before bed at almost 15 months.

Of course, hearing him say words more and more makes that little boy stage come ever closer. We can just drive by a Kroger and he says, "Appa" for apple (can you tell I do all my grocery shopping there?). He says "Ball," "Bye-bye," "Hi," "Mamaw," "Nana," "Ba" for Pa, and "Momma" and "Dadda." Tonight he very clearly said, "Bubba" for bubble in the tub when I squirted his soap and a bubble floated out.

He is walking much faster now, and can bend down to pick up toys without toppling over (usually). He pretends to talk on the phone. He tries to put sunglasses on himself. He is doing all the wonderfully cute things toddlers do.

And he dotes on his sister. He squeals and laughs when he sees her standing in line at preschool pickup. He follows her around everywhere. He mimics her...which is as cute as it is annoying, particularly when he is imitating her screaming or banging my pots and pans with wooden spoons. But it is so sweet to see them play together. To see her him pick at her belly button, which is his version of tickling, and to see her let him and laugh.

I remember reading a Little Golden Book about Baby Jesus when I was a kid, and I remember it said something on the order of, "Mary treasured these things (about Jesus) and kept them close to her heart." While I try to do the same, I find I forget so much, so quickly. It is one of the worst things about parenting....the memories dissipate too soon.