So Friday is the big day. We will head out on vacation should we all still be alive. My husband is really pushing my buttons to the enth degree. If he keeps this up he may be riding on top of the car like the grandma in National Lampoons Vacation. (Yes, I know she was dead!)
Besides my husband losing is ever loving mind I have a 6-year-old with an ear infection and possible strep throat and a three year-old that has stopped using the potty. Do you see now why I don't look forward to vacation!
To top this all off, TMI ALERT (this subject matter may not be suitable for the male audience - especially my father) I forgot to finish half a pack of birth control pills. I never forget my birth control pills - all hope may be gone.
I'm about to have a period which I haven't done in three years, that can't be good. Imagine if you will Mount St. Helen's. My body is already starting to morph into something out of a science fiction movie. I'm so bloated everything from my earlobes to my ankles looks like it's about to pop open. Nothing sounds good to me but chocolate covered chocolate and fast food grease. Anytime my children say, "Mom" I start seething and snarl back "WHAT NOW!" then immediately start crying.
My neighbor stopped her car in the middle of the street as the boys and I were walking yesterday. She rolled down the window and asked if I was good.
"Yes", I replied.
"Are you sure?" she said.
"Yes" I said again starting to feel the snarl coming on, "Don't I look good?"
"I was outside yesterday on my deck, it sounded a little chaotic at your house." She said with hesitation, then let the car start to roll away ever so slightly. I have a feeling the snarl that I was trying to conceal was working it's way to my face because she suddenly got a rather terrified look on her face. Almost like she didn't know whether to floor it or grab the boys. She chose to run.
"Glad you are good, have a nice walk! See you after vacation."
Scaredy cat! My bark is worse than my bite, I hope....this is going to be a loooonnnggg trip.
Stay tuned!
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
twrip or tweet - and it's not even Halloween!
I do try to get a workout in twice a week. I don't always get that done but I am committed to trying. Yesterday at the gym I was on the treadmill and plugged in, literally. I said I went to the gym, I didn't say I enjoy it. Since I don't own and ipod or an iphone or any other high tech gadget, I settle for what the gym has to offer. Which is a device on the treadmill for your headphones that gives you the option of 10 plasma TV's all with a different show in progress. I tend to flip around considering I have the attention span of a monkey and I since I rarely turn the TV on at home I like to absorb as much as I can.
Every show that I flipped to was talking about the teenage girl that fell into an open manhole while texting. At first you giggle, then ask if she is ok. But after hearing the while story, I just got angry. She was on Twitter sending a tweet when she fell into the sewer and now her parents are suing the city. WHAT?
This isn't a cartoon. She wasn't twicked but Wly E. Coyote. Was the manhole was cleverly covered with urban camouflage like cement and garbage? She was stupidly absorbed in sending a text while walking and missed a massive hole in the ground. Some cities are padding lampposts because so many people are walking into them. ARE WE NUTS?
I may be the only voice out there but may I say, Let's get a grip. Suing the city? Padding lampposts? I can not believe that technology has come this far, without us. The more devices you have the less you need a brain? Come on scarecrow - put down the phone while on the yellow brick road.
Every show that I flipped to was talking about the teenage girl that fell into an open manhole while texting. At first you giggle, then ask if she is ok. But after hearing the while story, I just got angry. She was on Twitter sending a tweet when she fell into the sewer and now her parents are suing the city. WHAT?
This isn't a cartoon. She wasn't twicked but Wly E. Coyote. Was the manhole was cleverly covered with urban camouflage like cement and garbage? She was stupidly absorbed in sending a text while walking and missed a massive hole in the ground. Some cities are padding lampposts because so many people are walking into them. ARE WE NUTS?
I may be the only voice out there but may I say, Let's get a grip. Suing the city? Padding lampposts? I can not believe that technology has come this far, without us. The more devices you have the less you need a brain? Come on scarecrow - put down the phone while on the yellow brick road.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Vacation part 2 - Planning
As the big trip creeps closer it is time to think about the details. My husband of course mentions this everyday. "Let's sit down and plan the trip! We have to do that tonight, can we do that tonight?"
We could do that anytime, however, my husbands idea of planning is more like a brain storming session. I get paper and pencil and sit down ready to make a plan. Laying this out like a Franklin Planner I have days broken down by hours, lists of local activities, maps, etc. My husband just sits down and starts talking about all the fun we'll have and all the things we are going to do and places we are going to go and and and.....
Needless to say, our ideas of planning are very different. Planning to me means getting the house, the trip, myself, and ALL the boys packed. It means thinking, thank goodness for the Girl Scouts, through every one's wants and needs before hand according to my husband's insane agenda and being prepared.
This year's trip is a new one. That may sound funny but normally the only trip we took as a couple or a family was to my husbands homeland. After five trips overseas, two with children I have that plan down pat. Taking a family road trip is throwing me for a loop. Where do I start, what do I pack, how much rum is in rum punch?
The trip is approximately two weeks away and yesterday he told me in the car, "We need to start packing!" I gently told him I do not think any of us have enough underwear for me to pack now and stay decently dressed for two weeks. But I can't put this off much longer, I will need to sit down with him soon and let him "plan the trip".
We could do that anytime, however, my husbands idea of planning is more like a brain storming session. I get paper and pencil and sit down ready to make a plan. Laying this out like a Franklin Planner I have days broken down by hours, lists of local activities, maps, etc. My husband just sits down and starts talking about all the fun we'll have and all the things we are going to do and places we are going to go and and and.....
Needless to say, our ideas of planning are very different. Planning to me means getting the house, the trip, myself, and ALL the boys packed. It means thinking, thank goodness for the Girl Scouts, through every one's wants and needs before hand according to my husband's insane agenda and being prepared.
This year's trip is a new one. That may sound funny but normally the only trip we took as a couple or a family was to my husbands homeland. After five trips overseas, two with children I have that plan down pat. Taking a family road trip is throwing me for a loop. Where do I start, what do I pack, how much rum is in rum punch?
The trip is approximately two weeks away and yesterday he told me in the car, "We need to start packing!" I gently told him I do not think any of us have enough underwear for me to pack now and stay decently dressed for two weeks. But I can't put this off much longer, I will need to sit down with him soon and let him "plan the trip".
Thursday, July 9, 2009
You know your a parent when...
I recently had one of those moments when it became very clear that I have fully arrived into motherhood.
It was 11:30 p.m. and after a very long day I was heading up to bed. As usual, I stopped in the boys room to make sure everyone was in a bed, semi-covered, and kiss them goodnight. I leaned over my littlest who is still wearing diapers to bed and smelled poop. Being exhausted and hoping I was just smelling myself I started to sniff. Armpits? Feet? Shirt? Wastebasket? Laundry basket? Nope! It is the kid.
Now maybe some of you have had this dilemma before and because you are a stellar example of what a mother should be you scoop up your toddler and change the diaper with loving care. I chose to duck out of the room and deal with it in the morning, or so I thought.
When my husband arrived upstairs a little later I quickly said from my cozy corner of the bed, "I've already checked on the boys." I was hoping to avoid him going anywhere near the bedroom. You see, my husband has the nose of a bloodhound. He can smell everything except himself from 200 yards. I knew that if he stepped foot in that room the jig was up. He would never change the sleeping child's diaper, but he would also never let me rest until I did. He went in anyway.
Like a possum, I tried to play dead. He called my name three times and huffed around the room. Finally, standing over me he said, "Are you really going to let your baby sleep in a poopy diaper?" Yes. I've never claimed to be Mother Theresa. Wait she wasn't really a mother mother, was she? "FINE!" I grumbled and got out of bed this was not going to be easy.
With my husband looking over my shoulder with a flashlight (Goodness knows why?) I carefully enter the boys room. I grab a diaper and three wipes. I am armed and dangerous. A mother on a mission - change a diaper without waking the child. Dare I say, it went down with the stealth precision of a Navy Seals operation. I was so pumped when the child simply rolled over and went back to sleep that I had to go downstairs to celebrate with a glass of wine - I have arrived!
It was 11:30 p.m. and after a very long day I was heading up to bed. As usual, I stopped in the boys room to make sure everyone was in a bed, semi-covered, and kiss them goodnight. I leaned over my littlest who is still wearing diapers to bed and smelled poop. Being exhausted and hoping I was just smelling myself I started to sniff. Armpits? Feet? Shirt? Wastebasket? Laundry basket? Nope! It is the kid.
Now maybe some of you have had this dilemma before and because you are a stellar example of what a mother should be you scoop up your toddler and change the diaper with loving care. I chose to duck out of the room and deal with it in the morning, or so I thought.
When my husband arrived upstairs a little later I quickly said from my cozy corner of the bed, "I've already checked on the boys." I was hoping to avoid him going anywhere near the bedroom. You see, my husband has the nose of a bloodhound. He can smell everything except himself from 200 yards. I knew that if he stepped foot in that room the jig was up. He would never change the sleeping child's diaper, but he would also never let me rest until I did. He went in anyway.
Like a possum, I tried to play dead. He called my name three times and huffed around the room. Finally, standing over me he said, "Are you really going to let your baby sleep in a poopy diaper?" Yes. I've never claimed to be Mother Theresa. Wait she wasn't really a mother mother, was she? "FINE!" I grumbled and got out of bed this was not going to be easy.
With my husband looking over my shoulder with a flashlight (Goodness knows why?) I carefully enter the boys room. I grab a diaper and three wipes. I am armed and dangerous. A mother on a mission - change a diaper without waking the child. Dare I say, it went down with the stealth precision of a Navy Seals operation. I was so pumped when the child simply rolled over and went back to sleep that I had to go downstairs to celebrate with a glass of wine - I have arrived!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Parenting styles
I was raised by a Baby Boomer. Was there a parenting style of the 50's generation? After discussing this at length with girlfriends my age we decided the parenting philosophy was simple: Send the children outside and they'll come back hungry and tired.
This was very true being raised in a small rural community two hours from any large city. Perhaps children of my generation that grew up near a thriving metropolis had trips to the zoo, museums, or a baseball game. I did not. We did however for most of my childhood have trips to another rural community with a lake. We stayed at the cottage for a better part of the summer. Eating all our meals at the picnic table in our swimsuits. We swam, water skied, and hiked in the nearby woods.
None of us went to camp, or summer enrichment. We did not take swim lessons or lessons of any kind for that matter. No one played baseball or was on the swim team. By today's standards, we were lazy, and so God forbid - was our mother.
After calling several of my son's Kindergarten pals for a play date we finally met someone at the park. Everyone I called said how crazy the summer was getting with lessons, camps, and other activities. Nothings really that crazy at our house. So far the summer has been really fun and easy, but dare I say it - lazy!
Perhaps it's my upbringing? My lazy mother who didn't organize play dates, activities, camps, or field trips has left me with a legacy of laziness. She taught me that summer was meant to be a time to relax. For a child, summer is lounging by a lake, setting up a lemonade stand, riding bikes, playing in the woods, hanging out with neighbors, and maybe reading lots of books.
So we are lazy, and my children deprived of camps and lessons and craziness. I just haven't decided if my parenting style is old school or if I am simply a Renaissance mother. For now I will claim the latter.
This was very true being raised in a small rural community two hours from any large city. Perhaps children of my generation that grew up near a thriving metropolis had trips to the zoo, museums, or a baseball game. I did not. We did however for most of my childhood have trips to another rural community with a lake. We stayed at the cottage for a better part of the summer. Eating all our meals at the picnic table in our swimsuits. We swam, water skied, and hiked in the nearby woods.
None of us went to camp, or summer enrichment. We did not take swim lessons or lessons of any kind for that matter. No one played baseball or was on the swim team. By today's standards, we were lazy, and so God forbid - was our mother.
After calling several of my son's Kindergarten pals for a play date we finally met someone at the park. Everyone I called said how crazy the summer was getting with lessons, camps, and other activities. Nothings really that crazy at our house. So far the summer has been really fun and easy, but dare I say it - lazy!
Perhaps it's my upbringing? My lazy mother who didn't organize play dates, activities, camps, or field trips has left me with a legacy of laziness. She taught me that summer was meant to be a time to relax. For a child, summer is lounging by a lake, setting up a lemonade stand, riding bikes, playing in the woods, hanging out with neighbors, and maybe reading lots of books.
So we are lazy, and my children deprived of camps and lessons and craziness. I just haven't decided if my parenting style is old school or if I am simply a Renaissance mother. For now I will claim the latter.
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