Adventures of Jen

What's For Dinner?

2012-01-26T10:37:00.000-08:00

A few years back, if you had asked me, I would have told you that I love to cook. Before budgets, and after school activities and 3 meals a day on the table. It was fun to cook.

Before kids, when I worked, I did not cook every night. Several nights a week we got take out, or even better, went out to eat. And we had nights when both of us ate cereal or just junk food. But at least a couple of nights out of the week I did cook. WHEN I FELT LIKE IT. And I enjoyed preparing those meals. Soups, casseroles, even Filet Mignon took a frequent turn in my repertoire.

I've always loved ready new recipes. I would read them, but never follow them to the word. When hubby asked I would tell him I was "inspired" by a recipe I saw in such and such magazine. Then we would giggle because we both new I'd probably never be able to re-create it exactly.

But things have changed. I now make breakfast for 3, lunch for 2 and dinner for 4 nearly every day. Sure, I have some breaks. Pizza or chinese for dinner sometimes. Chic-Fil-A for lunch on occasion. But money is tight and I prefer healthier made at home options. So I cook. And something that once was practiced in moderation and enjoyed, is now another chore.

And lately, my recipe inspired creations have lost their mojo. The flops have outnumbered the successes. My hubby has asked for cereal instead.

Like last weekend. I vaguely remembered reading about pureeing white beans and adding it to kale, tomatoes, garlic and oil. So I added a little of this and a little of that. Didn't feel like putting the beans in my blender to puree, so after adding them to the rest of the ingredients I buzzed my immersion blender into the pan a few times. When my husband asked for salt and refused to look me in the eye, I had to ask "is it not good?" after a long pause, and still no eye contact, his reply was "have I ever asked for salt before?" Gotcha.

Or a few weeks ago when I started to make an Asian stir fry but realized I had no soy sauce, I put a little of this and a little of that in. Then the kids were fighting so I forgot about it as it cooked on the stove. What resulted was mushy and flavorless. When my husband came home late that night and asked what I cooked, I told him "dinner". When he pulled out the cereal, I dumped the left overs into the trash.

The last example also pinpoints another issue. I suffer from poor pantry inventory control. I often THINK I have the ingredients for a particular dish, but find out too late that I do not.

At 6 pm, after making sauce and boiling the water, I will realize I don't actually have any noodles. That's when I start wondering if the kids will like sauce over rice or maybe beans. Or I'll cook and season the meat for taco's only to realize that D2 has snacked away all the shells. Taco casserole it is! Crap... no rice either.... lettuce wraps!

So what is the solution? I honestly don't have one. D1 has shown a lot of interest in cooking. I'm hoping by 8 or 9 she can take over. Until then, it's sauce and rice for dinner!

Crap... the dog just ate the sauce.

The "A" Word: Part 2

2012-01-24T10:10:00.000-08:00

The topper came in the Fall of 2009, I had joined a Mom's book club. Children came along and were expected to play independently while the Moms discussed the book. After an especially trying meeting, where the kids weren't being especially kind to my girls, and D1 reacted in her aggressive ways, I left early. That evening I was called by one of the Mom's and asked that I do not bring my girls to future meetings. With two years perspective this doesn't sound so terrible. But it was. I was hurt and angry. No, I was all out pissed. But also so incredibly sad. Being rejected by myself was one thing. But to have my child rejected was a whole new, horrible feeling. How could they not see how wonderful and special my little girl was?

I was devastated. I began to withdrawal both myself and my girls from many social opportunities. I was even hesitant to spend time with close friends who seemed to understand the challenges I faced with my D1. I was so afraid of another rejection, or another incident of D1 behaving badly or hurting another child. I believed it would drive me straight over the edge.

I honestly didn't know what to do. So I took a step that was so incredibly scary to me. I called an Autism resource and requested an evaluation. My heart was in my stomach. As I spoke with the receptionist I began to cry. She reassured me that it would be ok. That she had a son with autism, and really it was manageable. That made me cry even more.

It just brought me too far back. Back to my own childhood, my own difficulties. Too shy, too awkward. Which made making friends very hard, and made me a huge target for teasing and bullying. One of my number one wishes for my kids was not that they would be straight A students or star athletes. I simply wanted them to have it a little easier than I did. I wanted them to be outgoing, to have lots of friends and make great childhood memories. I wanted them to never have to play alone during recess, to never not know who they could sit with at lunchtime. All the terrible lonely memories of my childhood, the ones that left me sad still, so many years later. I could not handle my baby girl going through the same thing. D1 was creative, funny, and so incredibly smart. The thought of others not valuing these attributes as much as I did was heart breaking.

Of course the appointment we made was not immediate. As I now know, most autism providers have notoriously long wait lists. And while a month seemed a long time to wait, it was actually incredibly short compared to other providers wait lists. Once the appointment rolled around I was scared. Questioning myself once again. Maybe I was over-reacting. She just had some quirks and was a little behind her age socially. All kids have areas they struggle with. Was I dragging her to some evaluation unneccessarily? Wasting everyone's time?

But I was so incredibly glad I went. The therapist who conducted the evaluation was kind, non-judgemental and understanding. After talking with her for an extensive amount of time and giving her the evaluations I had filled out ahead of time, we were told to return in a week. While I went to the initial evaluation alone, hubby came with me for the results meeting. At this point, hubby was even more skeptic than I. He seemed to lean more on her issues being more of a result of our parenting. Bringing him along to this appointment was very important to me to get us on the same page.

The therapist began referring to D1 as a "fence sitter". She was borderline. Definitely had attributes of ADHD. But also many attributes of aspergers. She explained to us that the evaluations were hard to do on a young girl. That the tests were tilted towards the more typical aspie - a boy of age 7 or 8. She told us that very often girls do not get diagnosed with Aspergers till about fourth grade - when the social structure of school becomes much more complicated.

I know many people are relieved when they finally get their child's diagnosis. The years of wondering and not knowing what to do are done. But I did not feel that way. I was grieving and scared. What kind of difficulties would she have to over come in the future? What kind of family life would we have if we were constantly taking D1 to all the therapies that were suggested for her?

As that winter began, I went fully into myself and kept my girls close. Looking back, I remember it as a very dark and lonely winter. A winter full of waiting. At the evaluators suggestions, I tried to find social skill groups, speech and behavioral therapies. But all of these required more waiting lists, initial evaluations and placements with the right therapists and groups. Waiting.

~ part 3 of this series will be out next week ~

The "A" Word : Part 1

2012-01-19T12:13:00.000-08:00

When she was just under 2 years old, someone mentioned it, in response to my lamenting over her hitting others so much. It nagged at me. But I brushed it aside. Not my girl. She looked us in the eye, she showed us affection. She was learning to talk.

But still, the hitting continued. It didn't appear to be something she was going to grow out of. As members of the local MOM's club, we became playgroup drop outs. The crying children and judgemental Mommy eyes were just too much. I carefully selected the places we would go. Outdoor venues seemed to be o.k. for her. Playgrounds with lots of space and not too much noise were usually good experiences. Closed in loud places like Chuck E. Cheese were just plain horrible. Even close friends disappointed me - suggesting playdates should be avoided till D1 grew out of this stage. It was frustrating and lonely. I wanted everyone to love my little D1 like I did. I wanted everyone to see how amazing she was - smart,creative and sweet. Yes, sweet. She loved her Mama and her DaDa.

And at this time we had our little D2. My D1 tolerated her at best. Terrorized her at the worst of times. I would take out my beautiful baby and keep my fingers crossed that no one would notice the scratch marks across her face and ask how they happened. I lived in constant stress. Setting the baby down on the floor and walking into the adjoining room for just a second was never an option. I never knew what my D1 might do. D2 was carried around with me nearly every second.

I made extra phone calls to our pediatrician, explaining the latest event and being told it was all in the normal range of developmentally normal. But it just didn't seem right to me. No matter how much I hoped and prayed, she wasn't growing out of it.

I felt lonely, scared and confused. I would vassilate between wondering if something was wrong with my girl and brushing it off as over-worry of a Momma with her first born.

When my D1 was about 2 1/2 we added another big transition to her little life. We joined the exodus from over-priced New Jersey to PA. And it was a bumpy transition. While looking for a permanent home to buy we lived in a horrible rental with fleas, scary, unstable trees and electrical issues. I was able to explain away my D1's behavior on the wacky transitions.

But her behaviors, our living quarters and my post-pardum hormones put a toll on me. I was exhausted, weepy and full of mood swings. With support from Hubby, my Mom, Sister and one very close friend I made it through a very lonely confusing time.

Once we found our permanent home and settled in I prayed she would make the adjustment and her behaviors would improve. But as she grew a little older and the hitting continued and was joined with a few other quirky behaviors I wondered some more. The over the top fear of loud noises, the non-existent impulse control (I mean, a lake in our kitchen? Really?, the strange sensory seeking behaviors (paint smeared all over your body, really? we just cleaned up the lotion you smeared) the seemingly literal translation of everything we said to her. I read up on Sensory Processing Disorder. I read about how ADHD can effect girls differently. I would see some similarities, but others that seemed not quite right.

Feeling so alone in a new town I bravely set out to make some new friends. Despite the experiences I had in my NJ Mom's Club, I decided to join the local chapter again. Just shy of D1's third birthday I bravely attended a playgroup at another Mom's house. It went well. The Mom's in the group seemed to have more children, appeared to be more laid back and less hoverish about their kids.

We went through a nice time where the hitting and other behaviors seemed to only happen at home. While still frustrated, I was relieved that she was learning to play well with others.

But at home she began biting me, her Daddy and her sister. My cute little D2 walking around with cuts and bruises the shape of a mouth on her arms and legs. It was heart breaking. I talked to our new pediatrician. His response was that it was outside of his scope of knowledge. He referred us to a therapist. I made an appointment and nervously met with her first, without D1. After explaining D1's behaviors, the therapist suggested I try biting her back. Really? Where did she get her degree? Redneck U? I was frustrated and feeling more alone than ever.

Hubby and I were so confused. Could anyone help us? Were we just inadequate parents who didn't know how to handle a spirited child?

Then in the Spring of '09 my then 13 year old nephew was diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome. It sent me into a tailspin. Could my little girl also have this? I compared articles on girls with ADHD and girls with Aspergers. It all just left me so very confused. I could see a little of her in both. But it just didn't seem totally like her. The confusion and uncertainty continued.

She continued with the strange,although hilarious, impulsive behaviors. No bottle of lotion, paint, glue or shampoo was safe when left out. I would enter into a friends home and quickly scan the area for possible future messes. She once again began hitting others outside our home. We received reports from school of hitting, and once again I had to break up fights at play dates and other social situations.

~to be continued in a few days

A Very Loud Noise

2012-01-16T08:24:00.000-08:00

My D1 is not much for the mornings. The whole idea of getting up, getting dressed and quickly eating so she can start school just doesn't appeal to her. So each morning is a struggle. It involves a lot of ~~yelling~~ prompting on my part, and a whole lot of rushing. Toss in a crazed, dumb doodle and the mornings are absolute chaos. Most days, it requires me to drive D1 to school, since the bus is almost always missed. Usually she is still on time for the start of school, but on extra crazy days I have to walk her into the school and sign her in late.

In late October we had one of those extra crazy days. After over an hour of a whole lot of ~~yelling~~ prompting, the morning was topped off with a run through the neighbors yards to retrieve our dumb doodle who had gotten loose.

After my morning run, to say I was stressed out was an understatement. We parked in the front of the school and I had to usher both girls into the school to sign D1 in. Feeling a little guilty for all the ~~yelling~~ prompting I did that morning, I paused to give D1 an extra hug before I shoved her out into the world alone. And in those 2.5 seconds I lost track of D2. But as I heard the deafening sound of a fire alarm, I quickly found her. With a very guilty and upset look on her face.

Oh. My. God.

She pulled the fire alarm.

My first instinct was to run. To grab both girls, shove them into the van, and speed off. No one needed to know!

But I took a deep breath, remembered I was wearing my big girl panties, and did the right thing.

I stopped one of the secretaries as she rushed around, knowing it wasn't a planned drill and worried over what may be happening, and told her, it was my little one. She stopped and stared for a moment then went to work.

We walked outside and watched as all the children began filing out of the school. D1 told me she thought she may throw up. D2 held on to me, her face buried into my shoulder. I wished I had someone to hide my face into, too.

A teacher came by and offered to usher D1 to her teacher and classmates. So D2 and I sat on a bench and watched as all 455 students and 67 faculty members filed out into the parking lot. D2 straddled my lap and pressed her face into my chest. She lifted her head only once, to whisper that she wished she could go back into my belly.

As the principal went by I stopped him and apologized. He said it wasn't exactly the way he wanted to start his day, but he assured me it was ok, and that it wasn't the first time.

Then, as the fire truck pulled up, I cringed just a little more. Was this really happening to me?

Oh. My. God. A fire truck. My daughter's doing.

The firemen quickly cut off the deafening alarm. I heard the Principal announce to the students that a "visitor" had accidentally pulled the alarm and they were to now quietly return to their classrooms. D2 and I sat there quietly, as the 455 children and 67 faculty members filed past us, staring and now knowing who the "visitor" in question was.

I waited and once again spoke to the Principal. I asked him if I needed to do anything else. He nicely replied ~~get the hell out of my school~~ no, that we could go home.

My D2. Known by 455 students and 67 faculty members before she has even been enrolled in the school.

I went home and spent the rest of the day coiled into the fetal position.

Dumb, Dumb Doodle

2012-01-10T19:34:00.000-08:00

While he's been mentioned, I haven't formally introduced you to the latest member of our crazy cast of characters.

Bailey is our puppy dog. We have had him for a year. He is a a Golden Doodle. Which is fancy for mutt. No, he's a combination of a Golden Retriever and a Standard Poodle. Because our life was feeling so dull, what with the two insane children and all, we decided it was time to add a puppy. Cause you know, we didn't have enough to do.

Bailey makes our children look passive and well behaved.

Not too long ago, I listed for my friends on facebook all that he had done by 9 am:

ate my breakfast
licked half a tub of organic butter
chewed up a candle stick, mesh bath pouf, ball of yarn and a pair of underwear
ate the ear off a pillow pet and half a cardboard box

One other night, Hubby came home late one night to the following doodle debris gathered on the floor:

To improve his behavior, I signed us up for doggy obedience class. They gave me a can full of rocks to shake when he was misbehaving. It totally freaked him out! Worked like a charm for two days. Till he ate the can.

To top it off, he's not the smartest. My hubby will throw him a treat, expecting him to catch it in his mouth. Every single time it hits his head and drops on the floor. He runs into walls. He constantly barks at his own reflection. He still doesn't understand the command "sit!". He prefers the plastic bag over the cookies inside.

We've renamed him. He is now referred to as The Dumb Doodle. I'm not sure D2 even knows that his real name is Bailey.

Like my kids, he drives me crazy. As if my mornings aren't crazy enough, they haven't ended till I've chased him around my bedroom at least once to retrieve my eye glasses or a pair of socks. The afternoons aren't complete till I've yelled at him for stealing D2's snack.

But, just like my kids, I love him. The big, dumb doodle waits for my husband to get out of bed each morning so he can jump up to snuggle with me.(Bet my ultra-chic flannel bear paw print sheets in the picture above are impressing the hell out of you.) In the afternoon, D2 and the doodle snuggle together to watch cartoons. He follows me from room to room. When I get out of the shower, he is leaning against the bathroom door, waiting for me.

Yeah, he's a keeper.

My Fabulous Fashionista

2012-01-08T18:46:00.000-08:00

My D2 is cool. Yeah, I know, your kids are cool, too. Right, Right, of course.

But no. I mean she's really cool. Just. Cool. I could certainly fill pages on everything I love about D1, as you could about your children. But that's not what I'm talking about.

Have you ever met someone who was just so self assured,so comfortable in her own skin? A person with style,knew what she liked, and had no time for anything else? That's my D2. She has attitude, creativity and style. SHE LIVES LIFE IN HER OWN FAIRYTALE. She does. I feel honored to be allowed access into D2's world. It's a magical place. Full of Rock N Roll, Hot Pink, Fairies, Princesses and Frou Frou skirts.

In my experience, the style mavens I have known have their fashion rules. They have a look. A formula to their fabulousness. So does my D2.

Her Rules?

1. Wear Pink. Always. Preferably Hot Pink. Although a paler pink can be used at times to keep everyone guessing.

2. Skirts. Always. Whether on it's own, or as a layering piece, a skirt sets off an outfit. Wearing a dress? A skirt layered underneath adds volume and interest!

3. A good article of clothing is seasonless. That fabulous PINK tank top adorned with watermelons? Of course it can be worn in January! Layer it over a long sleeved, solid pink colored shirt and you've got a statement piece.

4. If it has a touch of pink, it matches. Matchy-Matchy is so yesterday. Live a little! If you love the skirt, and you love the shirt, put it together.

5. Every fabulous pink outfit must be topped off with an equally fabulous hair piece. Taffeta bows, great big flowers and multiple pig tails - alone or all together - is the icing on the fabulous pink-frosted cake!

Damn Elf!

2012-01-06T09:31:00.000-08:00

Last year my Mom gave my family an Elf on the Shelf. The girls were sooo excited. They named him Buddy and eagerly looked for him each morning. My husband, luckily, was great at moving him each night before bed. It really added to the fun of the Holiday season.

This year we started out great! A few days after Thanksgiving Buddy made his debut.

He surprised the girls with a breakfast - he went into my Christmas things and brought out some holiday plates and mugs. He left them hot cocoa,marshmallows and pastries. The girls were out-of-their-minds thrilled.

But Hubby and I had a little trouble this time around. It was a busy year for us.

A few nights after being with us, we stuck Buddy on a metal wall hanging in the living room. We tucked his legs behind it to leave it secure. The next night we forgot to move him. After the girls discovered him in the same place they panicked. Buddy was stuck in the metal tree! He couldn't move his legs! Did he break them? That night they anxiously said good night to him and wished him luck getting unstuck.

Another day he fell from the tv stand. What to do? If we moved him he would lose his magic from our touch. But if we left him there he would surely meet his demise through the teeth of our dog. So using just two fingers, I delicately moved him back into his spot. That was a close call!

He was a lot of fun though. I enjoyed listening to the girls talk to him. Ratting out each other for wrongs done. Long explanations of why they did some of the naughty things they did.

And then there was the fun Hubby had with him. Putting him in some precarious and questionable situations just for the fun of it.

Her name certainly isn't Chastity....

Buddy just loves snacking on bananas... What? You thought he was holding onto something else? Perv.

But I have to admit, I was kind of relieved to hide him back in the trunk in the basement on Christmas eve. One less thing to have to remember to do each night!

Fast forward to this week. D1 has a new friend over for a play date. After about the third "no, you can't do that" I agreed to let them into the basement to look at hubby's matchbox car collection. Five minutes later three very upset little girls come up stairs. D1 is holding Buddy out in her arms. "We found Buddy in your Christmas stuff!"

Shit.

What I proceeded to act out was Oscar worthy. Amazing. Best Mommy of the year award stuff.

I told them to put him down. He'll lose his magic! We discussed that he must have accidentally got stuck in there. I said that I bet Santa was very worried about him. I told them that while they shouldn't have been poking around in that stuff, it was a good thing they saved him! My D2 seemed to go with it. She fully believed. D1's friend also seemed convinced. I asked her if she had an elf on the shelf. She said yes, but that hers definitely went back to the North Pole. He definitely wasn't in their basement because their basement was full of mold. Hmmmm... file that under "kids say the darndest things!". Hee Hee.

But D1 seemed a little leary. I could tell she was really thinking and analyzing the situation. Then I heard her whisper to her friend "maybe Buddy really isn't magic. Maybe our parents move him around every night"

Shit.

I needed to step things up.

I asked them to show me the trunk they found Buddy in. They took me downstairs and pointed it out. I got a look of worry on my face. "oh no! that's where I keep Santa's mug for milk! I went down here Christmas eve to get it, Buddy must have followed me! Then I let my eyes tear up just a little as I quietly said "oh no, do you think I hurt Buddy?" Their eyes all got big as I said this. They started discussing the possibilities, talking over how hurt he was. It was working!

We went back upstairs and discussed what to do with Buddy now. We decided to delicately move him onto one of my few remaining Christmas decorations. A small decorated tree in the foyer. I instructed them to begin singing Christmas carols as I carefully moved him. Then we said a prayer to the spirits to protect him and make him well.

After D1's friend left (and I won't even go into the awkward conversation with the other Mom... ummmm surrey but I may have ruined your child's belief in Santa and Elves... surrey about that)we spent the rest of the evening watching Christmas cartoons to help infuse Buddy with the magic of the Christmas spirit.

After they went to bed, Hubby drafted the most brilliant of letters to the girls. It was from Flick, the head elf. It thanked the girls for finding Buddy. It explained that he was in the elf hospital, in tough shape but he would survive. The girls were thrilled, and convinced. Thank God.

And Buddy is currently spending his vacation at Hubby's office. Till next year.

Well, Hi There

2012-01-04T17:37:00.000-08:00

Ummm... Hi.

How have you been? Remember me?

So I took a little break. Yeah. That's it. A sabbatical. A sabbatical from an oft-neglected blog.

But I miss it. So I'm going to try again. Will you come back? I hope so.

Why did I stop in the first place? Besides my short attention span to just about anything?

Well, it's complicated.

I'm going to put it all out there for you.

First of all, I was feeling a little like the only posts I could write were the funny, poke-fun-at-myself types. I like writing those, don't get me wrong, but I'd like to write other stuff. So I'm thinking the New Adventures of Jen will be a little more well-rounded

Kind of like my arse. (Oh my god. Did I really just type that?)

The blog is going to be a little more like me. All over the place. Joking, crafting, cooking, dreaming, savoring, gossiping, bragging and maybe a little bitching.

But I can promise you one thing. It won't be about my love of sports. Well, except maybe my love of drinking beer at Hockey games. I do love that.

And then, well, there was my kids. I was finding, or maybe just feeling, that people in my local sphere were holding some of the stories against me. Kind of expecting certain behaviors from them because of the stories I write about them. My kids are unique. I'm unique. We aren't vanilla. But if you can't love us, then we don't need you around. This is something I'm working on, something I need to fully embrace, but I do believe it.

And then one of the other reasons why I stopped the blog was something a little harder to talk about. Something I'm still struggling with sharing, even as I type this. You see, well one of my girls has a touch of Autism. Just a touch. For reals. Borderline. But still so,so hard to accept. And yes, at this point, almost 2 years after the diagnosis, we are in such a better place. She is doing great. Learning and making strides. And yes, I believe soon, very soon, that it won't be her diagnosis. Or the diagnosis will change to ADHD. Or just pain-in-the-arse tween. My hopes for the blog is to share a little of what we went through, to educate other parents, provide comfort to some. But that part is going to be a challenge for me. It's one of my babies after all. Will I be doing her a disservice by telling all about her? I don't know. Perhaps I will keep it more on what I went through with the diagnosis, not so much about her. We shall see.

But come along, lets see where else my adventures take me!

That Mom

2010-09-16T12:14:00.000-07:00

So my little D2 started gymnastics at one of those "we'll teach your kid to do a somersault for a ridiculous amount of money" franchises. D2 really has a good time, and if you will allow me to brag, she's pretty awesome at it.

But, something has been driving me nuts. Her twenty-something instructor, who also happens to be the co-owner, along with her Father (ahem), keeps her cell phone in her pocket during class. She takes it out and looks at it every few minutes. It bugs the hell out of me! How much am I paying? And she's totally disinterested in teaching her class? Plus, a few times while she was checking it, she should have been spotting kids, and instead used only one hand to help them - totally inadequate! Three classes went by, and she kept doing it.

So being anti-confrontation, I sent her an email. After I hit send, I re-read it,and thought uh-oh! a little harsh! But oh well, she deserved it, I figured. And no, I did not sign it "a fellow texting addict" she didn't need to know THAT.

About an hour after I sent the email, Miss Gymnast called me. Arghhh! Did I mention I hate confrontation? This is what she said: "I received your email, and appreciate the feedback, however, I think their is a misunderstanding. I don't keep my cell phone in class, in fact it's not allowed. I keep the remote to the stereo system in my pocket. I use it to change the music"

Oh, uh, surrey. Hmmmm, guess I should be wearing those glasses after all.

Hello, my name is Jenny, and I'm an Asshole.

The First Day of the Rest of Our Lives

2010-09-10T11:03:00.000-07:00

My D1 just finished up her first week of kindergarten. Sending her off that first day was momentous. Watching her walk up the steps of the bus was a literal step up to the next stage of her life. My baby! Gone. A part of the machine. After a couple of days, though, it dawned on me. She wasn't the only one sucked into the machine. I was, too.

For the past five years, as a stay at home Mom, I've been pretty much on my own. No real schedules or deadlines to meet that weren't of my own making. I did what I wanted, when I wanted. Of course, don't let that statement mislead you. It's not like we stayed up all night and slept till noon. But still, it was a laid back sort of life style.

Now our schedules will be dictated by school and extra-curricular activities. Bus times and homework. Morning routines and bedtime routines. And by the time D2 graduates, It will have been 15 years of this routine for me! Have I mentioned to you that I get bored of things easily? 15 years of this? Wow. I mean, I know it will change in a few years as they get older. But still, take the dropping off at the bus(because the bus stop is almost a mile away, I drive her there - ridiculous!) I'm thinking I can't let them walk there by themselves till fourth grade, at the earliest. Which means when D2 is in fourth grade - five years from now! And I'm already hating this part of the routine, after day 4!

And yes, I know, I haven't even made it into homework battles! My brother told me about the homework struggles with his 7th grader. When my bro told his son to write one more sentence in each paragraph of his essay, my dear nephew wrote at the end of each paragraph "this is one more sentence" Sarcasm runs in the family.

Oh, and did I mention the politics of it all? Suddenly, I'm concerned with how cool D1 appears. Are the kids making fun of her for her shoes not quite matching her outfit? Because her pig tails are a little too wild? And where is my place in things? Do I give her a hug or a high five at the bus stop? When can I email her teacher to ask how things are going?

It never dawned on me that having children would mean going through school all over again.

Quirks?

2010-08-24T18:11:00.000-07:00

So first of all, I know, I know. It's been MONTHS. Months. And you thought you were over me, you no longer looked to see if I was around, no longer cared if I cared. And then suddenly, here I am again. Consider this your bloggy booty call. I'm back. For tonight, at least. Just looking to have a good time is all. Guess I just didn't want to be alone tonight. Alone with these bizarre thoughts running through my head, that is. No, I haven't been drinking. I just can't stop thinking about you.

Here's what's on my mind: I thought I was pretty normal. I had a few hang-ups but nothing too major. Or so I thought. I have a friend who is in the same boat as me. The staying-home-with-two-girls-and-trying-to-deal ship. We talk a lot. Confide in each other. But over time it has become clear that maybe I'm over-sharing. She has pointed out that maybe my little quirks are more like a little bit of crazy. Neurotic. There, I said it. Neurotic. Yeah, I gotta touch of the neuroses.

Well, first came the banana incident. We were road tripping to some sort of children's activity, and my friend, let's call her Elaine, said she was going to snack on a banana. "Did I mind the smell?" This is where I paused. I ended up telling her that while the smell didn't bother me, I had this thing, where I had a really hard time looking at someone while they ate a banana. "huh?" Yeah, it's just so PHALLIC. It makes me uncomfortable. Like I'm a peeping Tom or something. Is that weird? Uh, yeah.

Ok, then there was the lunch incident. I was at her home around lunch time and she offered me something to eat. Pasta with chicken. As I said no, she noticed that I had to stifle a gag. "You don't like pasta with chicken?" Uh, no, I like pasta and I like chicken. Just not together. Hmmmmm.

Then out of the blue, in the middle of March, Elaine asks me if I like yogurt. Well, yeah, just not in the winter. "what?" Well, I eat it. But only in the summer. Oh, okay....

And then there was that time at the gourmet restaurant. They offered pomme frites (yeah, french fries) with mayonnaise. And so I drilled the waiter. Was it homemade mayo? Real mayo? Or some crappy Hellmans. Because that, I don't like it. But homemade stuff, yum-o! Elaine's eyebrow went up rather high on that one.

Okay, then I was having a bad day, and I kind of went off on her about how much I hate deli meats. That yes, I may have an all out fear of them. I can't even get myself to buy them at the grocery store for my husband and kids. They are that gross to me. (ACKK.. I'm gagging as I type this). It's their slimey feeling smelliness that gets to me is all.

I mean, we all have our hang ups, right? I guess mine are just centered around food. Hey, I'm not judging you for your issues with public toilets. Oh wait, that's me... yeah, so if I have to spend more than three minutes in one I start to go into a panic attack. Or you, you don't like to splash water on your face... oh wait, that's me, too. Hmmmm, well you, you out there, you're still afraid of the dark! Crap, that's me, too. And reader number 82, you twitch when someone touches your nose! Oh no, that would be me, as well.

Oh my god! I'm freaking nuts, aren't I? It's not just a few food quirks. I'm certifiable. Ah well, I gotta go. Need to make sure all the doors and windows are locked before it gets too dark out there.

Adventures in Babysitting

2010-01-26T11:12:00.000-08:00

So I tricked, errrr, I mean I asked a friend to watch the girls for me tonight while Hubby and I went to a meeting. More than once I asked, "Are you sure?" and she kept saying it will be fine. But then she made a joke about being sure to hide all the scissors. Which got me all worried, I mean should I fill her in on EVERYTHING the girls could possibly get into? I keep thinking I should call her to discuss. But then I start thinking about what the conversation could be like, if I really did follow a policy of full disclosure.

Me: Sooooo, I just wanted to touch base about tonight and what you can expect from my girls. Thought I'd give you a few tips.

Friend: Oh, it will be fine. My kids can be a little rambunctious at times, too!

Me: (nervously)yeah, I'm sure! Just, ummmm, you said you were having spaghetti and meatballs?

Friend: yes, do they like that?

Me: Sure, but you weren't going to put grated cheese on the table, right? I mean, not where they could actually reach it? And if you are having salad, you will lock, I mean put the dressing in the fridge so they can't get to it, right?

Friend: uh, sure.....

Me: Ok, great! And your kitchen and powder room sinks - you could put the soaps on a high shelf, right?

Friend: (long pause)yeah, I guess I could do that....

Me: great, great! Oh, and the upstairs bathrooms, you don't have hair gels or make up or shampoo just out, right?

Friend: ummmm, actually I do.

Me: Well, why don't you just do a quick trip around the house and gather those things up. Put them on a high shelf, too.

Friend: Oh, I'm sure they won't get into anything like that! But, ok.

Me: Yeah, I'm sure it will be fine. Oh yeah, if you have any step stools you may want to lock them in the garage. Wouldn't want them to be used to get up to those high shelves of yours! I mean, just in case, that is.

Friend: Ok. So how long did you say you would be gone?

Me: Oh, just a little over two hours.

Friend: Oh, no problem. The girls couldn't possibly get into much trouble in that little bit of time.

Me: (long pause for hysterical laughter mixed with crying) Yeah, of course not.

Friend: Ok, so anything else?

Me: Well, let me see. You weren't going to give them anything with sugar or red dyes, right? That makes them a little crazy....

Friend: Oh, I just made cookies with red M&M's. My kids were all excited....

Me: Oh, just let them fill up on them before my girls get there! Oh, and after D2 eats or drinks anything, force her to use the potty. She refuses to wear a diaper, but she also likes to pee in some strange places!

Friend:(silence)

Me: Ha ha, that was a joke. sort of. I mean, she doesn't do that all the time.

Friend: (silence)

Me: Oh, just one more thing! While you are putting away the soap and stuff, make sure there are no pens, pencils, markers, paint, or glue left out! Boy, do they like to color on those walls!

Friend: (silence)

Me: Ok! So see you tonight!

Friend: Oh, darnit! I just took another look at my calendar. I almost forgot we have a really, really important meeting. Uh yeah, we have to meet with the hamster breeder out in New Jersey. Wow! Can't believe I forgot about that! Looks like I won't be able to watch your sweet girls after all!

Me: Really? Oh no! I mean they are such easy girls to watch. Maybe you could take them with you? There isn't a whole lot of damage they can do in the car once they are strapped in. Just don't give them snacks....

Friend: So sorry! Nope, not enough room in the car! Oh look at the time, gotta go!

Wow. I'm sure that's how it would play out. Definitely, definitely not making that call.

Wishing upon a Minivan

2010-01-25T10:44:00.000-08:00

So my husband is car obsessed. Obsessed. I have to clarify this, though, because I think there are many kinds of car obsessed. He isn't the Nascar watching, Budweiser drinking kind. Nor is he the "I just rebuilt my engine in my free time" kind of guy. He's just obsessed. He gobbles up the free for sale catalogs you get at grocery stores like a teenage girl reads texts from her boyfriend. He knows the name and year of nearly every car on the rode. When we first started taking long car trips together I used to ask him why he was so quiet. He wasn't pondering anything deep, nope he was checking out the cars around him. Obsessed.

About every two years he gets the itch. The itch for something new. He decides one of our cars is lacking something or is about to break. So lucky him, this spring the lease on our minivan is up. But I put a wrench into the situation for him. Foiled his plans! I want us to buy a less expensive car in order to lower our monthly expenses. When I announced the magic number,his face fell. "You only want it to be how much? and that's WITH tax?" Yep, sure is.

He started with scare tactics "well, you know, I want you and my girls to be safe in this car" and "we won't really know what we are getting if it has a lot of miles on it" But once acceptance set in, he became practical. He asked me for a list of the top five things I wanted out of this car, in order of importance. He said he would try to look with that list in mind. Once I stopped laughing over the thought of me, Jenny who doesn't give a damn about cars, and rarely even notices that others are on the road, writing this list, I went to work. And 30 seconds later I was done. Keep in mind this same list would have taken dear hubby days and days to complete. But I gave him mine in 30 seconds flat.

Here it is:
1. must have third row seat
2. good mpg
3. not ugly
4. power doors/seats
5. dark blue

Yep, there's my list. Hubby shook his head after reading it, and then I found it crumpled up in the trash a few hours later.

So now I'm feeling guilty. Maybe I should have put more thought into this list. So I have re-thought my top five into a true list of what this Stay at Home Mama really needs. Here you go, Hubby:

1. An electronically controlled divider that pops up between the seats in the back row to prevent back seat bickering.

2. An automatic vacuum that gets to work every time you hit the remote control lock button. Cleans up all the snacks debris in an instant!

3. A stereo system that allows two cd's to play simutaneously. Girls can listen to their Raffi in the back, while Mama rocks out to her New Wave.

4. Time travel ability that ensures you are never late for another ballet, swim or preschool class again.

5. Built in coffee maker. Wait, maybe that should be first.

There it is!

A Letter to the Manufacturer of the Graco Doll Stroller

2010-01-04T10:59:00.001-08:00

Dear Sir or Madam:

I am writing to thank you for building such a durable toy. We have had your doll stroller for two years now, and I knew it was built to handle rough toddler play, but I had no idea how well made it really was until this Holiday season. I mean, who would guess it would withstand a grown man, an ex-soccer player, kicking it across the span of two whole rooms?

Ok, I feel I should back up, I mean a grown man doesn't just kick a toy with that sort of force and determination for nothing, right? Well, I should hope not. But to better understand the reason behind this grown man showing a child's toy such violence, I think I need to set the situation up a few hours before the kicking incident. Hmmm, on further thought, lets rewind a full week. Oh, and I guess I should explain that the ex-soccer player is my dear husband.

As was tradition, two weeks prior to Christmas we bought and put up our Christmas tree. It was a beauty - perfectly symmetrical and it smelled divine. I just love that fresh pine scent, don't you? We had it decorated and looking lovely by the end of that weekend. But by Monday morning I was feeling a little uneasy. The tree looked like it was leaning. By that night I was afraid for the life of my treasured ornaments. I asked my husband to do something about it, but he said it was fine. The next night it looked worse, so once again I asked him to do something but he said it would be fine. Sigh. And so it went for a full week. "It's fine" So the following Sunday we had a tree that in my opinion looked like it was defying gravity. And I wasn't surprised when we all heard a soft "ting" and found the tree on the ground. Not surprised, but definitely upset. Some of my favorite ornaments were broken as a result. Oh, but I will confess, being able to say "I told you so" made me a feel a bit better. So the tree falling down set up our schedule for the next couple of hours. What turned into trimming off a few branches to make the tree sit more solidly became a full re-construction of the tree - drilling holes to re-insert branches, using wood glue and twine to restore our tree to it's original beauty. And all the while Hubby and I were doing this, our dear children were being told to stay out of the room for fear of being hurt by broken ornaments. My poor D1 and D2 did a great job for the first hour, but being only 2 and 4, they started to get impatient and wanted to help. So we let them explore the contents of Hubby's tool bag. Which was fine until they started fighting. So once again they were banished. Ok, I'm sure you are wondering what this has to do with your doll stroller, be patient, I'm getting there.

As hubby and I tried to creatively use twine to make the newly glued-in branches look natural, it dawned on me that my dear children were being very quiet. Too quiet. Uh oh.

I spied my D1 first. Asked her what she was doing and her reply of "nothing", made me look a little closer. Her hair! Why was the side of her pretty bob now crooked? "WHERE IS YOUR SISTER?!" I found her sister upstairs. I simply followed the trail of blonde hair that was spilled through the family room and up the steps. There she was, my adorable two year old with the haircut that will be talked about for the rest of her life. Her cute bob with bangs just touching her eyebrows was replaced with a more, a more, ahemm, modern look. Bangs completely cut off - think crew cut style, while the sides and back were left to their original length - that is excluding the random bits that were also completely cut off.

I marched both girls into the Christmas tree room for my husband to see and tearfully (ok, maybe a bit over dramatically!) exclaimed "Christmas is ruined!". Taking in the new haircuts and my tears, my husband sent the girls to their rooms, then turned around and kicked your stroller through the foyer right through to the other side of the Christmas tree room. Where I cried out "thanks, now you broke a toy, too!"

But to my amazement, your wonderful toy made it through! Not a dent or crooked part on it. And while I hope no other family goes through a day with such multiple disasters, I know I will recommend your toy to every Mom I know.

Sincerely,
Jenny Henny

Random

2009-09-30T10:44:00.000-07:00

So I've had a ton of ideas running through my head on blog posts. Little narratives that go on in my head as I go about my day. But, yeah, obviously I haven't stopped to write them down. Once again, it's been a while, huh? I wish I was one of those types that write here every day but that just isn't happening, now is it? Sorry about that.

So what's been going on here? Well, lets see:

D1 is into a full schedule of activities: preschool three days a week, dance class one morning and Soccer every Saturday afternoon. School has gotten off to a good start. And so has dance. Which, I have to tell you, I REALLY never thought I would sign up one of my girls for dance or gymnastics or anything like that. When they were babes in my arm I swore I wouldn't be one of THOSE Moms. I somehow have those activities linked with eating disorders. Yeah, I know, she's four. But that's just how I think. So I went against that self imposed law. Oh well, next thing you know I'll be signing her up for a beauty pageant. (hee hee. I think I just threw up a little in my mouth!).
Soccer isn't going quite as well. But as I keep reminding my soccer loving husband, she's four! She looks cute in her little uniform, at least.

As I'm carting D1 all over town on these activities, I've been noticing the other Moms and laughing to myself. They all seem vaguely familiar, though I don't know any of their names, or the names of their children, for that matter. But they are familiar all the same. We've all been floating around mindlessly in this little suburban bubble of ours, shuttling our kids to the playground, McDonald's, the pool, library and so on. Living parallel lives of time outs, Happy Meals and slides. Like a secret society, unknown to all, including it's members.

In addition to these activities, I've been carting D2 around as well. She seemed to be feeling a little left out, so today we started a Mommy and Me Dance class (I know! from being against dance, to joining a class myself! Just call me hypocrite!) It actually went much better than any of the other activities I participated in with D2 - so I have high hopes (which of course will come crashing down at ab0ut week # 4. )

With all these activities, what has really been taking up my time is my sweet D2. At 2 1/2 she has come crashing, thrashing and screaming into the terrible two's. From the moment she wakes up till the time she goes to bed, it is all about our battle of the wills. I know this, I know it is an important part of her growth to test her boundaries and establish her independence. But oh my god! Nothing, not even her crazy older sister prepared me for this. I am quite simply exhausted.

Mischief has become her middle name. Pouring juice onto the carpet, dumping cornstarch onto the desk, emptying shelves of it's books. And that was just one evening. She has smeared balmex all over the couch, threw poopy diapers across the room. Locked herself in my dressing room to play with my makeup. Had tantrums over the correct type of juice she wants to drink. It has been endless, and I'm just so tired!

And that my friends, is what I've been up to. As many of these things were happening, the narrative in my head was hilarious. But written too long after, it sounds rather dull. Hang in there with me, though!

Chicken, anyone?

2009-09-04T11:25:00.000-07:00

So last week we took a day trip to the Lake at Mt. Gretna. The girls and I met my parents and my niece and nephew. My father is a HUGE fresh water enthusiast who is surrounded by a family of beach lovers. Which of course means that his chance to swim in a lake is pretty infrequent. None of us had ever been to Mt. Gretna, but we were excited by what we read about it. And it was great - a shallow roped off area for the little ones, docks to dive off, this incredible trapeze swing to jump into the water with, and a really high dive to also jump off. So much fun! My father has fond memories of jumping off cliffs into rivers and doing other "dare devil" activities. So within just a few minutes of being there, he was chasing after my 9 year old niece and 11 year old nephew. He did a quick jump off the high dive and then he was off to the trapeze swing. As I watched him in line for the swing, I remarked to my Mother "look at Dad, he's the only adult there. Good for him". Uh yeah, maybe there was a reason for that. As he hobbled out of the water, clutching his stomach, we were definitely worried. He couldn't believe the pain he was in - said something in his stomach "popped". Yep, after just 15 minutes of fun, my Pop was out of commission for the rest of the day. The next couple of days brought on MRI's, ultrasounds and trips to surgeons. Did you know that you could actually rupture a muscle? That's what he did. Crazy stuff. He'll be out of commission for a couple of weeks now.

So the rest of us continued to have a good time while my Pop watched. We rented these great inner tubes and floated around. But my niece seemed a little disappointed. She wanted someone to play with her. She kept bugging me to go off the high dive with her. I kept saying no,and no and oh yeah, no again. But then I saw some older (than me) ladies doing it, and so I started wavering. It would be fun to be the cool Aunt that went and had a good time with her niece. Well, I guess I'll do it.

Ummmmm.... Did I ever mention to you my fear of heights? Yeah. As I was climbing up the very slippery ladder, I kept telling myself "don't look down". I was horrified. And once I got to the top, do you know what my sweet niece did? She baled on me! Just jumped! That was it, she was gone. Floating in her inner tube and smiling up at me. So there I was, on this little platform, up at least a gazillion miles in the air, and surrounded by a bunch of 11 year olds. I kept walking to the jump off point and freezing. I. CAN'T. DO. THIS. The sweet girls kept telling me it really wasn't that bad. The boys kepts saying just do it! 5 separate times I tried to jump. I couldn't do it. I needed to close my eyes to do it. But then I was afraid I wouldn't clear the metal contraption that was holding us up. I needed to keep my eyes open. But I COULDN'T DO IT! The girls told me I had to, informed me that someone broke their leg climbing down the slippery assed ladder. I could believe it. That seemed just as treacherous as jumping. But I JUST COULDN'T DO IT.

The kids were getting more pushy - just do it! But I couldn't. I looked to the shore, my parents were there, watching. Pop had the camera all ready to go. Mom was cheering me on. My girls were looking at their role model with great expectation in their eyes. But, I JUST COULDN'T DO IT. The lifeguard kept giving me these looks like what the hell are you doing up there, old lady? Oh god, I was old. I was the old, chubby scared, lady at the lake. The humiliation.

The lifeguard finally told me to just go down the ladder. He had to whistle and yell at the kids below to clear the ladder so the old, chubby, scared lady could get down. I'm almost certain that's what he said.

And so, scared to death, I descended down the ladder. To great cheers from above. No, ok, actually not cheers. The noise, in fact kind of went like this "bawk, bawk, bawk" THEY WERE CLUCKING AT ME! Oh my god! The 11 year old punks were calling me chicken!

Yep, push that up to number 1 on my most embarrassing moments list.

Home Alone II

2009-08-31T12:08:00.000-07:00

So, our final morning alone was quite blissful. Sleeping in, followed by more newspaper reading and coffee drinking on the couch. In honor of Father's Day I made brunch for Hubby and my Father, who would be with my Mom to drop off the girls. I even enjoyed making the breakfast - no one to whine "when will it be done" no one to trip over or supervise stirring the eggs. Just some cooking fun.

We were excited to get our baby girls back. Refreshed and enthusiastic over parenting again.

When they arrived, it was such fun to hear about their weekend away. Finding out what they did with their Mimi and Pop Pop. The new adventures they encountered. We enjoyed a nice brunch with my parents then off they went.

Hubby and I were still in relaxation mode, and the girls were happily rediscovering their toys. As we continued to read the paper, and make plans for the rest of the day, the girls played in the playroom and living room - shuttling toys between the two rooms as they often like to do.

Suddenly my little D2 walks into the room. "D2, what is that blue stuff in your hair?" CRAP! She got into the toiletry bag that my parents returned along with them! Where else is it?

And so I went into the living room to discover blue toothpaste smeared all over the wall, carpet and Hubby's beloved leather man chair (which btw, I have commandeered into the beloved Mama hiding from the rest of the family chair - but I guess that's another story!) Where was the rest of the items in the toiletry bag? What else did they get into?

And that's when I discovered it - the Benadryl bottle behind the chair. Once 3/4's full, now empty.

WHO DRANK THIS!!!
WHO?

What followed was a lot of screaming. A lot of confusion. We figured since D2 was covered in toothpaste, she must have drank the Benadryl, too. A quick call to my Mom to ask if she recalled how much was left in the bottle. Then the dreaded call to Poison Control. They were asking me for information, information easily found on the benadryl box. Why could I only see the spanish directions? "Calm down, Ma'am. Take a breath, you're upset" says the hotline operator. Ok, breathing again.

The operator advised we take D2 to the emergency room. More chaos follows. Hubby and I are not dressed, it dawns on us that we took the back seats out of the car in order to pick up D1's new mattress. Lots of tripping over one another, and yelling.

Where is D1? I search for her, and finally find her in her room. She is close to unconsciousness. OH my god! It was her. She must have drank it. Or did they both? What do we do? Who do we take to the ER? It was decided to take both of them.

Once at the ER we are immediately relieved when the nurse at the front desk tells us to take a seat. Relieved and annoyed. Hello? These are my babies! Make sure they are ok! And relieved, it must not be a big deal if they aren't taking them right away.

Once in, it becomes very clear that D2 did not have any of the Benadryl. D1, however, most definitely did. She went from barely able to walk, to cranky, to hyper as anything. The Doctor did very little. They kept her for about 6 hours to "observe" her, and then sent her home.

What a day! I now fully understand the feeling of not knowing whether to hit someone or hug them. Such a scary, scary feeling. Horrible, really. Thank the spirits above that she was fine.

And my weekend to recharge? Ha! I was back to being the harried Mom in no time! Silly Mommy....

A Mystery

2009-08-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

So I know I owe you Part II of my last post, and I have some other things I want to tell you about. BUT, this is just a quick post I wanted to share.

This morning the girls painted. Painting turned into D2 needing to wash her hands. Washing her hands turned into playing in the sink. Playing in the sink turned into her being totally soaked. Her totally soaked turned into her taking off all her clothes. So, I sent her upstairs to get some new clothes. About 5 minutes went by, and she was REALLY quiet. So I went upstairs to investigate. I found her amid a huge mound of clothes. When she saw me she said "I pooped" and sure enough, the indisputable evidence was smeared down her leg. But here's the thing: I can't find the poop! I've walked around the entire house sniffing and looking and it hasn't turned up!

Where the hell is the poop?

Home Alone, Part I

2009-08-10T10:38:00.001-07:00

So back in June, Hubby and I celebrated our 10th anniversary. To celebrate, my parents took the girls for the weekend. Picked them up Friday afternoon, and dropped them back home Sunday morning, which happened to be Father's Day.

I was giddy with anticipation as I waited for Hubby to get home from work on Friday. I have this amazing dressing area adjacent to my master bath and for once I actually used and enjoyed it. Sat on a chair and slowly put on makeup, took my time going through the makeup brushes to find the one's undamaged by my girls; used the blow dryer to style my hair with out intermittant stops to listen and make sure the girls were not up to any mischief.

Once Hubby was home, we hung out and watched some tv. Grown up tv. Then we were off to dinner. We chose a restaurant I have been wanting to go to for a full year. The Farmhouse - known for cooking to the season and using local farms as their food source. When we arrived, our table was not quite ready, so we sat at the bar. Sat at the bar. No, we didn't pace the parking lot, praying dinner wouldn't extend too far into bedtime. Nope, we sat at the bar and oggled over the beer list.

After being seated, there was a delay in being served. But it didn't matter. No one to shush, or say "sit on your bum!" to; we simply enjoyed our drinks and chatted. Ok, I'll admit, we did a lot of chatting about our girls, but what do you expect?

As dinner was served and we took our first bites, we wept. Yes, tears burst forth from our eyes. What an amazing meal. We cried for the perfection and we cried over the knowledge that once upon a time, two DINKS used to enjoy a meal such as this because it was a Tuesday. A whim, a "I don't feel like cooking" kind of night; not a meal that had a one year wait list. The meal followed by dessert,and dare I say it? After dinner drinks! was sublime. Perfection.

The next day we slept in. Then we read the saturday paper and each had two cups of coffee. Yes, I drank two cups of coffee. Savored, actually. While sitting on the couch reading the paper. Yes, I know I said that already, but I just wanted you to understand fully the signifigance of this. I drank my coffee while sitting on the couch. Not standing over the counter, quickly slurping and impatiently waiting for it to cool down. I drank it on the couch. Reading the paper.

Next, because of the rainy day, we changed our plans of walking around Jim Thorpe. Instead, we did something more ordinary: ran errands. I know, you are rolling your eyes, wondering why we would waste a day such as this on errands. But here's the thing: we ran errands TOGETHER. It wasn't our usual divide and conquer Saturday where we split the girls up and each run around to get stuff done. We drove around, in the little car, the car without car seats. Together. We bought peanut butter and hot dogs. Picked up D1's new mattress. Together. At one point we got back into the car, looked at each other and smiled.

This is kind of fun
Yeah, I've missed you
Yeah, you're kind of fun to hang out with
You too!

It was nice, a relaxing rainy Saturday afternoon.

That night we met up with friends at a new Gastro Pub. Yeah, it's a weird description, but that's what they call it. It was yummy - great beers, plus one of my favorite things ever! European style french fries with real home made mayo. Real mayo - not some crap you buy in a jar. Yum. We hung out with some good friends, ate, drank and listened to the live band. A great night.

We went home high on solitude, but excited to get our baby girls back the next morning.

To be continued....

Remember Me?

2009-08-03T12:52:00.001-07:00

So, ummmmm, uh, Hi. How have you been? Good to hear... yes, I know, I know. It has been a while. And yes, to be honest, I guess I have been avoiding you. Sorry about that. But really, it's not you, it's me. No, really, it is. I mean yeah, you could post a few more comments or link me to your blog, but that's not it, not really. It's me.

I feel like I owe you an explanation. Remember one of my first posts where I told you I get really excited about things, and then drop them? Yeah, that's happening. Sorry about that. I've been really busy though. Yeah, I mean So You Think You Can Dance takes up two whole nights, and then the rest I've been really busy eating ice cream. Scooping up that vanilla and adding that Hershey syrup just right takes TIME.

So what have I been up to? Well, lets see. My girls have been my girls. Crazy. Into lots of stuff. Lots and lots of stuff. There was a Benadryl scare that required taking them both to the ER. Double bills for the ER - now that is a good time. And yes, thankfully they were fine. There was a beach vacation that was wonderful. The girls are now tanned beach babes. D2 has no fear, and D1 worked off some of hers along the shoreside. Took a visit to Assateague Island to see the wild horses. Yep, driving an extra 90 minutes to see 5 horses in the parking lot was pretty priceless. Vacation ended badly with a lot of blue nail polish being painted all over our rental home's bathroom - and D1. That was a good time. My family hit a new high on the gluttony scale. I believe it was 15 pizzas, 5 large Thrashers, 4 large orders of wings and like 100 ice cream cones.

My garden has now hit a full time season of neglect. The squash bugs and mold should be abolishing all hopes of vegetables shortly. The plans for next year have been set in place: a new plot of grass and a veggie co-op from one of the nearby farms. I can't wait for good tasting fresh vegetables and all that new grass!

There was a good week of a cold/flu thing. Left me trembling in bed for several days, forgetting the 90+ degrees outside and thinking it just had to be the middle of February.

Now that it is August, can you believe it is freaking August?, We are trying to jam pack every last thing we wanted to accomplish this summer into 4 short weeks. Lake Tobias, pool days, local zoo days, cave exploring, ice cream parlor hunting and fire fly collecting. Not to mention my personal goal of drinking down at least a dozen more Gin N Tonics (sighhhhh.... I think I've only had one this entire summer!)

So that's been our summer so far. And I promise, I'll keep in touch!

Hay is for Horses

2009-06-09T11:17:00.000-07:00

So as we pulled into the driveway, D1 spied the bale of straw I just bought sitting next to the garage. It's for my slacker garden. The garden that will become the garden of neglect by the end of the summer - a tradition two years in the making. Anyways, D1 asks "why do we have hay". And as a responsible Mother I reply "hay is for horses". I mean, what else was I going to say? But I couldn't stop there. I told her "we bought a horse. It's sleeping in your room. I'm not sure where you will sleep tonight". In the half second of forethought before I made this statement I figured she would whine that she wanted her bed, and I would simply tell her that I was joking. But she didn't whine, she got excited. Started talking about feeding it apples,sharing her bed with it and going for rides on it. I could have stopped there, but I didn't, I went with it. As we walked into the house, she nearly knocked me over trying to get upstairs. I braced myself for the tears. Instead, she yelled down "Mom, I can't find her!, Where is she!" I told her to look in my room "She's not there, Mom!" So I went upstairs and said to my dear D1 "now silly, do you really think Mommy put a horse in your room?" And her reply? "Oh yeah, right. It's in the yard?"

My addiction

2009-05-21T12:07:00.001-07:00

So, I have a dirty little secret. I'm addicted. Addicted to my Blackberry. It really must be like crack, I hear that is also very quickly addicting. I've only had my blackberry for a month, and I can't believe how addicted I am.

Let me start at the beginning:

My husband needed a new cell phone. He uses his for work, so a multi-functioning device made sense for him. When he was looking into them, he mentioned to me that the current sale was buy one, get one free. Well, I knew NOTHING about them. Except I saw them on a commercial once, and thought they looked cute. A nice little accessory to put into my Coach handbag. So as hubby left to go to the Verizon store, I told him sure, I'd take one, but don't bother getting me the internet connection, because I don't need THAT.

Yeah, I was that clueless. See for those of you who are also clueless, you can't get a Blackberry with out internet connection. It's kind of pointless.

So Hubby comes home from Verizon, and before he even gives me the phone he announces that we had to pay for the internet access. He reduced our minutes, so we are actually paying the same, but we had to have internet access. Right away my hackles are up - we could have been SAVING money by reducing our minutes, but instead we are paying for the internet? Arghhhh. Then I start playing with the phone. Mine is a storm, or something, I don't really know. It doesn't actually have buttons, you have to push on the screen for it to work. In all of two minutes I decided I HATED it. It must go back, I declared! I put it in the box, while Hubby shook his head repeatedly at me. The next morning he asked me to just try it for a couple of days. Well, ok. But I wasn't going to take the protective clear plastic off of it, so I could still return it if I wanted.

Yeah, on day 3, D2 pulled it all off. The phone was mine. I've made peace with the push screen, actually I'm pretty good at it. I can punch in an email at a pretty fast speed. Have to admit, I'm a little embarrassed by it. I mean, come on, why the hell does a housewife need a Blackberry? What urgent matters do I need to attend to online? Scheduling the latest playgroup can't wait till I have time to sit in front of the computer? I mean really. It's kind of silly.

But that doesn't stop me from checking it ALL THE TIME. Constantly. The little ding of a new message is hypnotizing: MUST CHECK MESSAGE NOW! And it's pathetic, just how detached from the here and now I've become. I'm playing with the girls at the park, and suddenly I have an overwhelming urge to check my messages. Or in the middle of dinner I hear a ding and desperately want to get up to see what it is. I mean really, ho

Sorry, where was I? My phone just dinged so I had to check what it was - not to worry, it was just SPAM. Now, I forget what I was s

Sorry, sorry, it happened again. Apparently book club is being re-scheduled. Good thing I checked it right away, urgent stuff, you know?

So last night I think I hit rock bottom. Hubby and I frequently spend our evenings on opposite ends of our sectional watching tv and playing with our blackberry's. Yeah, I know, it is as pathetic as it sounds. Sometime's we IM each other. Uh Huh. We really do.

We were watching the finale of American Idol. Does it make us sound less pathetic if I tell you that we watch it in order to mock it? Yeah, I know, it doesn't. At least I tried.

So to annoy Hubby or to make him laugh, I'm not really sure, I start using my FB status update to add my two cents to what is going on during the show. Some of them were actually hilarious in my opinion. Hee hee. But ok,maybe, just maybe, it was a little overboard to write 15 updates in about 23 minutes. But come on, Hubby was laughing! Who cares about my other 144 FB friends, right?

I know, it was as low as a Blackberry addict could go,right? Where do I go for counseling on this sort of thing?

Or ma

Ah never mind, my phone is dinging again, going to go check it....

Spring Fever

2009-05-06T11:24:00.001-07:00

So after several days of miserable rain, late Saturday afternoon, the sky cleared, the sun shone and the temperature rose. It was a beautiful day! A touch of spring fever infected hubby and I. And after perusing the horrible state of my kitchen, I decided that not only was there no way in hell I was cooking, but I wasn't going to eat in that wretched place, either. Out to eat for the Henny crew! We decided upon a fav italian restaurant that featured an outdoor patio - a perfect space for our unruly children.

As we drove there in our mini-van, with the windows rolled down, the 80's retro rock pumped up, Hubby and I sang along with our kids bopping along in the back. I smiled, and day dreamed of the chilled glass of Riesling I was going to sip on at the patio while eating whole wheat pasta tossed with sun-dried tomatoes and fresh basil. Exchanging a few buzzed giggles with hubby and smiling at our children's banter. I was ready for a relaxing, fun evening.

Ok, so this is where the fun music comes to a scratching halt and reality hits in the sitcom version of this glimpse into my life.

We walked into the restaurant,to find that the patio was closed for the evening due to a threat of rain. The restaurant was packed with boys in tuxedos and girls in skimpy dresses and updos. IT WAS PROM NIGHT! And so we backed out of the restaurant as quickly as possible.

I pouted all the way to the next restaurant, where we were turned away for the very same reason. An understanding hostess who obviously had children of her own, suggested it would be a very bad idea to eat there because of the crowds of teenagers. A helpful Hubby suggested that we do eat there, as a public service to all the parents at home worrying. Our children on display would make such a great statement in support of abstinence.

Then we drove around for 15 minutes, arguing over where to eat. I pouted. Hubby still insisted on having the windows open, which just felt like an annoying wind to me, at this point.

And so we ended up at Panera, eating salads and grilled cheese sandwiches. The whole time shocked and amazed that it cost us $36 to eat those entrees. Salad, cheese and bread for $36??? Arghhhhh! My chilled wine was replaced by iced tea. My ambience replaced with reprimands to the children on sitting still. It was reality at it's finest.

For the most part, I don't miss my life before children. I really do treasure them, and love our times together. But sometimes, just sometimes, I miss the casualness, the unplanned-ness of eating out, taking our time finding a place and savoring a meal. Especially the savoring of the meal.

Face Book Reject

2009-04-29T18:06:00.000-07:00

So as I mentioned last week, I am addicted to Facebook. I have 142 friends. My hubby has 248. We competed for a time, but he obviously won. I update my status once or twice or ten times a day. I post photos, I look at other people's photos and leave comments. You get the idea, I'm hooked.

So yesterday, I was paging through my list of friends and I noticed something - a "friend", a boy I dated in 9th grade. Well, wait, let me correct that: he asked me to "go out with him" we talked on the phone and walked to a couple of classes together. I never knew what to say to him, we had long awkward silences then about 2 weeks into the relationship (ahem) I had my friend break up with him. He then went on to become a tough boy punk rock kind of dude and was forever rude to me, until like 12th grade when he started speaking to me again. And no, I'm not saying that my breakup from our intense relationship caused all that, I'm just saying that's what he was like. So he ended up living and working in some big city and being single and leading some kind of interesting life that I really wouldn't want to lead. Anyways, I'm talking in circles, aren't I? Are you wondering where this is going? Yeah, so am I. Ok, back to my point. This "friend" had de-friended me! He was no longer on my list! So I searched his name. He still had a profile and he still had 209 friends. 209 of his closest, dearest friends, so close that he obviously didn't have room for little ol' me to be his 210th. What a blow to the ego! I mean do I care about him? Of course not. Do I need to know anything more about him? Nope. But still, I was rejected on Facebook! Was it my lame suburban housewife comments that got to him? Was it my incessant droning on about my crazy kids? Was he only keeping cool city hipsters on his list? What could it have been? Am I not one of the cool kids? Did he hold with him my pathetic rejection for the past 20 years, and finally had his moment to get back at me? Was it the stupid tests I kept taking that annoyed him - could he no longer read what kind of fairy I was or what name I should have been named? Or did he look through my photos and get some satisfaction in the knowledge that I gained more weight than he since school, and now he could move on? What was it?! Why would he defriend me?!

And yes, this is what went through my head as I prepared dinner last night. Facebook has reverted me back to a socially insecure highschooler. The horror.

A list

2009-04-24T10:39:00.000-07:00

So I'm totally addicted to Face Book. Completely. I am an addict. So is most of the United States, it would appear, so I don't feel all that bad about it. Perhaps it's the reason the Economy has tanked - no one is actually doing their jobs, they are just looking up old loves on FB all day.

If you are on FB, you know that it is being polluted by lists. Lists on everything you can think of, really. Fav movies, books, songs, hottest serial killers, ugliest flowers, blah, blah, blah. So the list thing has infected my head. For weeks now I've been walking around making lists in my head. Here's the one I made today:

My Favorite Things about Spring/Summer

1. Bare Feet
2. Gin N Tonics
3. My annual beach vacation with the Fam
4. Margaritas
5. Backyard BBQ's
6. The smell of lilacs
7. Strawberries, blueberries and raspberries
8. The Emmaus Farmers Market - going there every Sunday for some shopping and bonding with my little D1.
9. Hanging out on my adirondack chair in the backyard listening to Bob Marley
10. Street Fairs and carnivals
11. Ice Cream

I got to 11. Probably would look nicer if I had stayed at 10, but who can leave out ice cream? I mean really.

Checking In

2009-04-23T17:34:00.001-07:00

So, I have to be honest with you. I've been feeling a little uncertain about this blog lately. It started out being a place to talk about myself, but as so many Stay at Home Mom's can attest to, talking about myself doesn't have a whole lot of content these days, and so it became telling a whole lot of stories about D1 and D2. But I've been having some concerns about that lately. You see, a lot of people who actually know me in real life read this blog. This was by my own design, so I have only myself to blame. But, I've been concerned lately that maybe I'm not being fair to my little girls. D1 especially. Am I giving her a bad reputation? I dwell on the more, errr, negative aspects because well, for two reasons, I suppose. One is because this gives me a place to vent, and usually feel better about things. And two, because, come on, they are pretty hilarious! Well, that is if you aren't the one cleaning up the egg shells or running after the naked little angels.

My D1 (and D2, too!) are spirited, creative, self reliant and curious. But is that what people think after reading my blog? Or do they think destructive and wild? Do they know that D1 trys to take care of her Mommy and Daddy when they are sick? Bringing them water to drink and a blanket to snuggle with? Do they know that she loves to help Momma bake? Or that she always sticks up for her little sister at the playground? Do they know that she willingly gave up her pacifier to the paci fairy so that little babies who needed their own paci's could have them? Or that the sound of the wind drives her out of her own bed into the safety of Mommy and Daddy's room? I guess I assume everyone knows D1's other side. The way she likes to snuggle up to her Daddy and watch a flyers game, or how she likes to make up stories with her Mama about Princess D1 and Princess D2 and their Queen Mommy. How excited she gets to see her older cousins - you'd think they were rock stars the way she acts!

So I've been holding back a little. Not sure what to write about. Writing about me and my adventures has to include my girls, but to what extent? And is focusing on the negative good for them, or for my parenting for that matter?

I'm just not sure, I guess.

Easter

2009-04-08T10:55:00.000-07:00

As a little laugh before Easter, I thought I would post an email I sent to a friend right after Easter 2006. It was D1's first Easter, and in honor of that, Hubby and I decided to host our very first Holiday dinner with Hubby's family - his parents, brother and his girlfriend, Grandmother, Aunt and Uncle and Cousins. We were going to try to fit all those people into our tiny little house and impress the heck out of them with our well cooked food and great hospitality.

And of course, that's not how it went:

My Easter was a disaster. It started Saturday - my sciatica started giving me trouble, which it hasn't bothered me in probably 2 years, but it kicked in, so I totally didn't get half the stuff done that I needed. So Sunday started with me way behind. Luckily Hubby's Bro and his girlfriend came early and helped. But still I was behind. 30 mins before everyone was coming, I was just getting around to putting the ham in the oven. Before I could do this, we spied my neighbor (house behind me) passing out and falling to the ground. I ran over first, with Hubby a few seconds behind. We thought he was dead - so scary. Here he's diabetic and passed out from that. He hit his head on the driveway pretty hard and was bleeding. So we called 911. Then while we were waiting for them, I drove over to his church (very funny - me and an all black baptist church) to get his wife. Needless to say, I was a little frazzled by that. So I opened up the wine :) and started drinking :) drinking a little too much, to be exact :) Well, all the food managed to get into the oven, late, but that was ok. Then everything but the pineapple stuffing was done, so we decided to start with the salad while that finished up. Hubby complained to me that he was worried about the stuffing because it was dripping, and the oven was a little smokey. I told him not to worry about it. A few minutes later he checked on it again, and oooops! The oven was on fire. Really bad. We all had to leave the house and Hubby had to use the fire extinguisher on the oven (still haven't cleaned it yet - yuck!). It wasn't too horrible, actually. I think we only had to wait @30 mins before we could go back into the house :) Luckily Ham tastes good cold. Next, I decide to toast D1 for her excellent gene pool, and manage to drop my entire glass of wine all over Hubby's plate. Hmmmmm..... who do you think was angry by this point? Then, I find the whole event hilarious, so I go upstairs to take care of D1 and decide to call my parents, forgetting of course that the monitor was on. A classy kind of day :) I'm lucky my husband is still speaking to me.

I wanted to talk to you, I have great visions for D1's Bday party and wanted your advice. I'm hoping this time the fire will be elevated to the point of needing fire trucks. Every kid loves fire trucks :)No seriously, wanted to talk to you about baking and stuff.
And that was our first try at Holiday Entertaining! We haven't done an Easter at our house since.

Happy Easter, and if you're hosting, here's hoping it is Smoke Free!

Super Freak

2009-03-25T08:22:00.000-07:00

So, I really enjoy using the word "freaking". Not nearly as much as it's cousin, the F bomb, but in a very poor attempt at censoring myself, I use freaking. A lot. In fact, I have quite a few words and/or phrases that ummmm, color my language. "For the love of god" is one. I attribute that to my Jersey days. It's just a very Jersey thing to say, I think. Oh, and along those same lines I say "oh my god, I almost died". "Crap" I say way too much, which is another pathetic try at not saying shit. Although I still say "shit" a lot too, a favorite phrase being "I don't give two shits..."

But anyways, I digress. Hmmmm, that's a word I don't use often enough. I'll have to remember that. Ok, back to what I was saying. About a month ago, my Dad was visiting and in the course of our conversation, I probably said "freaking" a good 5 times. Which he felt compelled to point out, saying "you know, you say freaking a lot, you should probably watch that or your kids are going to start saying it"

Arghhh... my Dad freaking jinxed me!

Today, I was standing on a step stool, digging out the finger paint from the top shelf in the craft closet (which EVERYTHING is on the top shelf in the craft closet, come on, you've read this blog, I can't leave anything lower!) While I was digging around, the bag of playdough fell and scared D1. Can you guess her response? Here it was: "Freaking playdough, you just freaked me out". Ahhhhh.... thanks Dad!

After I stopped laughing, I called hubby to tell him. And after he stopped laughing, he pointed out what a smart girl D1 is. She figured out how to use "freaking" two ways! As an adjective and a verb! Words can not fully express how freaking proud I am.

A Hit for Reality

2009-03-20T11:06:00.001-07:00

This morning I took the girls outside. It's still a bit chilly, but we bundled up in sweatshirts and jeans, and were just fine. I spent the time outside working on a small garden bed. The girls dug for jewels and other mysteries, then they went onto the deck and played with some old flower pots - making "flower pizzas". I was just three steps below them in the yard. As I was listening to them chatter on about flower pizzas and dirt and jewels and other imaginary things, I smiled to myself, pleased with their little imaginations at work. As some of you who also blog may do as well, my mind wandered to a possible blog post about the morning. About how that moment felt so good, felt exactly like what I thought the joys and awards of parenthood would be like. My heart grew warmer as I mentally narrated the scene. Far off in the distance, I heard D1 whine about a crack in her pizza pot. As I knelt with my head down, from the corner of my eye I could see her coming towards me, but still I dreamed on.

And that's when she dropped the terra cotta pot onto my head. It broke into several pieces. ON MY HEAD. Ok, maybe you don't understand. She was on the deck, I was down on my hands and knees in the dirt. And she dropped a flower pot onto my head. My head broke the pot. Ok, do you understand now? The pain, I mean. I was lucky, it did not bleed - surprising since head wounds are supposed to bleed like crazy. But I guess I was lucky, nothing actually punctured my skin.

As I type this with one hand, the other hand holding ice to the lump that is forming on my head, I have to laugh, and once again remind all of you that parenthood is nothing like you think it will be. But it's certainly full of surprises.

Fame

2009-03-17T06:36:00.000-07:00

So, I just wanted to let you all know that if you google "wiping someone else's bum" my site comes up #2 !

It's a proud, proud moment, my friends!

Say what?

2009-03-13T06:12:00.000-07:00

There are phrases I have said in the last 3 yrs and 10 months that just never ever figured into the equation. I just never dreamed, ever, what Mothering would be like. It's hard to imagine what something is REALLY going to be like before you actually do it. When I worked as a buyer for accessories, it wasn't quite what I thought it would be when I was studying away for my Fashion Merchandising degree at IUP. But still, it was on the same plain of reality and logic that I had been on for quite a few years. My duties were orderly and reasonable. It wasn't like this. Even hearing that parenthood is nothing what you expect doesn't prepare you for such unexpectedness. Laying awake at night, stroking that big, pregnant belly and dreaming of what it will like doesn't even get close. Yes, you imagine that you will love the child like nothing you have loved before, and that certainly is true. And still doesn't measure up to the actual all-encompassing love that materializes. But I'm talking about how you imagine you will parent and interact with your child. Scared or not, judgemental or not, I'm sure you, like me, dreamed of picture perfect days filled with painting gardenscapes, exploring nature, cuddling to cartoons. And of course, lovingly teaching them the ways of acceptable conduct. Ooops! I think I just snorted my coffee through my nose on that one. I mean, what the hell was I thinking? I just had no idea what sort of things I would actually be saying to my children. No clue, really.

These for instance:
Ahhh, look at all this poo!
Poop goes into the toilet, not onto the floor.
Did you put an acorn in your pee pee?
Your Noggin isn't broken (and not be talking about their head!.)
We keep our clothes on when we are visiting our friends.
We don't wear pajamas in the shower.
Rocks can hurt heads.
You need bam bams for the boo boo's on your ba-ba's?
Dog food is for doggies!

Or even the mundane things that you somewhat expected to say, just not 5 times a day, every day for 2 years:

crayons are for paper, not walls!
don't hit your sister!
share!

I mean, really? I just had no clue! And then there are the things you ask your friends, things you thought you were never care about, let alone discuss:

How often does your baby poop?
What happened to your nipples?
How do you get 32 ounces of maple syrup out of the carpet?

I mean really, who knew? Ok, for the couple of people who read this regularly, please share with me a few of your "I can't believe I am saying this!" phrases. Show me I'm not alone, and give me a chuckle!

Remember Me?

2009-03-04T15:58:00.001-08:00

So, It's been a while, I know. Sorry about that. I went away for a while. No, the place I went didn't end in "psychiatric center" or "rehab" or anything like that. Nope, my wonderful In-laws took the whole family to a Beaches Resort in The Turks and Caicos. It was AMAZING. Amazing. Really. A beautiful resort. Beautiful room. Breath-taking beaches. Wonderful service. The weather was perfect. 80's, sunny, breezy. Perfect, really. We had a large cast of characters with us. Hubby's whole family - parents, brother, sister-in-law, grandmother, Aunt, Uncle, two cousins, and us. 13 of us to be exact. Lots of mishaps, crying, laughing, drinking and lots and lots and lots of EATING. I felt like I was on cloud nine for four whole nights and days. My children were adorable, my husband was attentive and funny. The sun was shining, the heavens sang down on us. God, was it wonderful. Exactly what I needed to get myself out of a late winter slump.

Then we came back. Funny thing about vacations - they end. My Mother generously offered to come the day after we got back to help with the kids and let me rest after a long and late flight home. Well, ok, so I begged her to come. It was still generous of her to show up! My kids were, ummm, how do I say? A handful once we got back? A little out of sorts? Absolute monsters? Yeah, I think the last one is most precise. The plan for my Mom was to come and stay overnight then leave the next morning. Well, the next morning I was hit with an absolutely blinding and debilitating migraine. The sweet angel I call Mom put me to bed, gave me pills to knock me out, and took care of the monsters, errr, girls while I slept. I was in and out of consciousness that day. So I heard bits and pieces of life for my Mom. Actually, I felt like I was easedropping on myself for a day. Varying voices wafted up to me. Calm but stern ones, yelps of surprise. Hollers of "No"! The ever present phrases of my life "why would you DO that?" and "stop". Eerily familiar statements that I've been saying way too often, but haven't heard my Mom utter in at least 25 years.
Feeling better that evening, I hung with my Mom on the couch, chatting for a while. She informed me that I don't give justice to this blog. That I could be writing so much more! She, in fact, could write an entire book on just that one day! The wrestling, the fighting, the fibbing, the messes, the running, screaming, screeching, playing, dancing, scratching,pulling hair, singing chaos that is a day with my dear D1 and D2! And, best of all, she has promised me to testify on my behalf that they do not act this way because I'm upstairs locked in my room manicuring my nails all day! Nope, the things they do really happen in split seconds. VALIDATION!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yay Me! So, if you don't believe one of my posts that says I really was just gone for a minute, then you go ask my Mommy!

Broken

2009-02-09T10:14:00.000-08:00

So they broke me. I'm certain. Cracked beyond repair. My mind is gone. Spirit gravely injured.

I woke at the usual time today, in the usual way: D1 arriving in my room at 7:30. But from there, things went a little differently. First of all, D1 greeted me with poop ass. What a duty, to wipe someone else's bum before you've even had time to wipe the crusties from your eyes. Then, as I gained more consciousness, I thought to ask - "where are your pants?" to which she replied "downstairs". Hmmmm... downstairs, already?

And so after collecting D2, we go downstairs. Where I find the refrigerator door propped open with a step stool. Pudding and juice on the counter. Then I head into the family room - tv is on. My little angel is so self sufficient, isn't she?

Breakfast is a mess. A lot of crying, pushing and fighting over cheerios. There's probably more to say, but I'm already starting the process of blocking it all out.

Ok, bath time! I've heard other people remark that bath time is such a fun, relaxing time in their house. Huh. Can I move in? Bath time in our house involves Mommy yelling not to dump ALL the water out onto the floor, and then very aggressively washing hair, because I haven't found any other way to get it done.

Ok, next I dare hop on the computer for a few minutes. Check email, send an email, and see if I can find any sort of free activity for the morning. Afterwards I come downstairs to see D2 covered in red sharpie marker. Her new pink pants stained already. And don't even dare ask why I would leave a sharpie out again, yeah, I know, I should have learned my lesson after the carpet incident. Well, here's the thing: I didn't actually leave it out. Well, yeah, I did, sort of, if you include leaving it on top of the fridge as "out". The little angels now know how to scale the sides to get the things on top. I'm going to have to start leaving things in nets on the very tops of our trees to keep them away from my sweet babies. I'll have to train pigeons to fetch stuff for me. My hubby was right, a helper monkey really would be wonderful.

Next comes trying to get them to go to a park to play for a while, take advantage of this crazy warm weather we are having. Well, after several meltdowns, in becomes apparent that they do not want to go outside. Ok, maybe D2 needs an early nap, she's still not feeling 100% after last week's bug. Into crib, and starts a 20 minute tirade. Out of bed. Ok, let's play in the basement. As I'm walking down to the basement, a friend calls and I attempt to have a conversation. Silly me. In the 10 minutes I'm on the phone, the girls unroll an entire thing of wrapping paper. Then begin to fight over it, which leads to a sword fight with the legs of a dismantled table. My friend remarks that my house sounds like a chinese take out kitchen. I'm thinking more like a cock fighting arena. I abruptly end the conversation when it becomes apparent that D2 has been injured by the sword fight.

Ok, lets have snack lunch! Snack lunch is when Mommy doesn't really feel like making "real" food. I bring out a bunch of snacks and let them eat it on the floor in basement. A relatively good time for a while.

As they are finishing up, I run upstairs to brush teeth and do a few things so we can go to the open gym time at our township building. A few minutes pass, and D1 comes upstairs. Naked. Informs me that D2 has made a mess in the kitchen. "but where are your clothes, D1?, Did you pee?". "Yes, Mommy, I did not make mess in kitchen". Which, for those of you who do not interpret 3 yr old speak, means "I made a mess, but blame my sister".

So I go downstairs. I find half a dozen eggs broken all over the floor, with half chewed pepperoni mixed in. Their clothes thrown on top. I big eggy disgusting mess.
Naked D1 climbs on top of the counter and starts to jump up and down saying "not me! not me!" D2 wines and cries because she can't scale to those heights.

I, I begin to cry. I call hubby, and tell him "I'm broken - they finally did it - they broke me" He tells me to put them in their rooms, and take a shower. Tells me to leave the eggs on the floor.

And that is what I do. D2 into her crib. I put the safety handle on D1's door so she can't get out. And I take a long, long shower. My shower has a little bench in it. I've never used it. I mean why would I? I did today. Sat there, head to knees and watched the water go down the drain.

Now, I'm writing this, with wet hair, wearing my bathrobe. I can't get myself to go downstairs and clean that mess. Nor can I get myself to go into D1's room to see the mess she has created in there.

Back into the swing of things

2009-01-27T07:01:00.001-08:00

So D1's behavior was really, really good. For close to a month. The Holidays were not nearly as horrifying as I thought it would be, as far as her behavior went, that is to say. I even started getting a little nostalgic about it. Thought she was growing up, maturing. I started stressing over the blog even. What would I write about if I had a well behaved child? Nothing to complain over, no stories to make you laugh. Well, that's all wrong. D1 is back. Back with a vengeance. I've been so busying policing her and D2, I haven't had time to pee. Seriously, the last two weeks have been insane. Insane.

So what's been going on? Well, first of all, D2 is really coming into her own. She is becoming D1's accomplice in so many acts of vandalism, even creating her own.

Here is a short list of what they have been up to, once again, I've blocked out some of the things to conserve my sanity. Keep in mind, this is an incomplete list spanning just two weeks.

- squirted lotion all over bathroom floor

- wrote with a sharpie pen on the living room carpet (yeah, that doesn't come out)

- D2 drew on wall with bic pen (that doesn't appear to come out, either)

- dipped makeup brushes in lipstick (bye bye make up brushes)

- D1 dumped a bottle of Burts Oil in her hair. (oh, and then denied it. despite the obvious evidence of grease in her hair. Which, btw, took four hair washings to get out)

- smeared gel candle goop all over bathroom wall

- D2 wrote on brand new play kitchen set with marker

- bit off edges of almost every piece of a foamy puzzle

- stole ice cream container, and hid it and ate it in dining room. Left a crusty mess in carpet. Yum.

- D1 turned A/C and fan on before we went to bed one night, one night that was just 8 degree outside. We woke up at 1 am in house that was 50 degrees. Then coincidentally, I'm sure, the heater broke and we had to have it fixed on a Saturday.

And then there was the straw that broke the camels back. As I've outlined before, I really don't spend much, if any, time on myself. The one thing I do is put facial moisturizer on every day. It's special stuff for my sensitive skin. Well, they got into it and dumped most of it down the sink. I say most of it, because a nice glob of it also found its way onto D1's face. Which was rather humorous because when we caught them, she said she didn't do it, that it was just her sister. Hmmmm.

This one made me cry. Sob, actually. The usual Mom-esque statements. "I can't have anything nice!" "There is nothing that is my own anymore!" Blah, Blah, Blah. I even said "I don't feel like a human anymore!" To which my eloquent Husband replied "You're not human, you're a Mom now" ahem, yes he did!

So that's what I've been doing. Losing my mind. Slowly.

I'm going to make myself a cup of coffee now.

I know

2009-01-08T11:35:00.001-08:00

So, I just want you to know that I know. Ok? I know my hair looks like shit. I have a hair appt for next Saturday, ok? I know, What's up with it, right? It's the freaking water here, that's what's up. The hard water in the Lehigh Valley is doing some serious beauty damage here. My stylist told me to start using a shampoo for color treated hair, said it would help my hair from turning this weird brassy color. It helped, sort of. But maybe I bought the wrong kind? It's totally making my hair look greasy and limp. Ok, ok, I know, I know that's not the only problem with my hair. I'm WAAAAYYYY over due on the hair dye thing. My grey roots are to my ears. I KNOW. And yes, I know if I took the time to blow dry it after my shower it wouldn't do this weird flippy thing. Yeah, I know. But if I'm using the hair dryer, then I have no idea what D1 is up to, and I already took a huge risk of house damage simply by taking a shower. Besides, the hair dryer could wake up D2, then I would really be in shits creek.

Yes, yes, I know that if I took 3 extra minutes to apply some concealer and blush I would look awake and probably like 15 years younger. I know. But then D1 and D2 would want me to put make up on them, and it would become this long THING. This THING that would eventually turn into yelling. Anyways, most of my makeup brushes are completely ruined because D1 dipped them into lip gloss. And I'm not buying any new ones till they are in middle school, at least.

Of course, I know my shirt has a stain on it. There AND there. I know. It's just that if I bought a new one, it would be christianed with a stain within the first hour of wearing it. Yes, I know, if I was more careful, or treated the stain right away, it would wash out. I know this. I don't do this. I take the shirt off, run around half naked, and then forget to pre-treat the stain, because I'm yelling at the girls for emptying out my dresser.

So I just want you to know that I know, ok?

And knowing is half the battle, right?

painting a picture of family life

2009-01-07T07:57:00.000-08:00

So my friend Valerie, over at A Frugal Family Fun Blog recently wrote this post about a family painting event. She even provided photos. The pictures are a snapshot of domestic tranquility at it's best. A tranquil activity to wind down the day. With the chaos of Christmas, it had been a while since I painted with the girls. With the icey, rainy weather today, I figured it would be a good time to pull out the new painting supplies I bought them for Christmas. I bought them two little kits. One is acrylic paint with a cute miniature pallette and really nice paintbrushes, the other is water paint with lots of great colors. I gave D1 the choice of which one to use. She chose the acrylic paint. This is how the conversation went once everything was set up:

D1: I want water, tooooo! Why D2 have water? I want water.
Me: Your paint doesn't need water to work.
D1: But I want water.

She then runs over to D2's paint and paper and starts using it.

D2: SCREEEEECHHHHH!! Noooooo! Mine!
Me: D1, get back to your chair. Use your paint. Back to your chair! Back to your chair!

D1 then goes back to her chair. Mixes all the pretty colors together to form an ugly black.

Me: D1, why did you do that? Now you only have black. D1, don't paint your hands, we aren't doing handprints today. D1, back to your chair, leave your sister alone. D1, clean off your hand, paint is everywhere now. D2, stop screaming. D2, stop throwing your paintbrushes on the floor.

D1: I want water.
Me: Your paint doesn't need water.
D2: Screeech!
D1: I want more paint.
D2: Screeech!
D1 then gets out of chair and grabs more paint.

Me: No, D1, you have to use up your black paint first.

D1: I want water.

Me: No, D1, we are not doing handprints today. One more time and we will stop painting.

and 30 seconds later...

Me: Ok! Painting is done! You didn't listen!
D1 & D2: Screech!

Thanks for the suggestion, Val.

New Years Resolutions

2009-01-05T12:52:00.001-08:00

So, I guess I'm optimistic enough to still come up with Resolutions each year. But cynic enough to roll my eyes at my ownself as I'm doing it. After the decadence of too much eating, too much spending and not enough time spent on me, by January I'm always up for some healthy eating and pampering. But as I do it, my eyes are rolling, knowing that it will be over with by The Superbowl.

As I sit here, with my now snug fitting fat pants - the one's that just two short months ago were baggy, and wouldn't stay around my hips. Not only am I thinking about changing into sweatpants, but I'm thinking about the resolutions for this year. Last year Valerie Bertinelli made quite a revelation in her Jenny Craig commercial. It was the first year that she wasn't going to have to make her resolution be about losing weight. Will this be my year? Probably not. See, right there is the reason. Obviously I don't have what it takes. Sighhhhh. So what exactly are my resolutions?

1. Eat better, less sugar, less mindless shoveling in of the kid's leftovers.
2. Drink more water - I used to have this one down pat, not sure what happened.
3. Make the time to exercise.
4. Wake up 30 minutes before the kids, so I can have some quiet me time in the mornings.

Well, I started these resolutions today. I always start anything new on a Monday. Who cares what day New Year's Day landed on, Mondays are my days for starting over.

I set my alarm for 6:30. Got out of bed at 7:30. Actually got to take a shower with out D1 or D2 bothering me. So no, I didn't do what I resolved, but hey a quiet shower works, too.

I actually didn't eat the kid's leftovers today. I think that will be a matter of reprogramming. I remember when I was single, I would hear women complaining about gaining weight from doing this I would think "yuck! why would you do that?" Well, here I am!

What are your New Year's Resolutions? Or are you too jaded to have any?

Christmas is Over

2009-01-04T12:41:00.000-08:00

So that's it, huh? It's all over. How exhausting! I'm still catching up on the sleep I missed for a full month, trying to put together the best Christmas ever, or something like that. How was it? Did I buy the freaking Dora Pegasus? Did I survive?

No, I did not buy the Dora Pegasus. I was very proud of myself on that one. I looked till Christmas eve, trying to find it for less than $30. I didn't, so I kept to my promise not to buy it. Did she miss it? Not at all. Didn't even mention it. Her favorite Christmas gift was the V-Tech Camera. She has barely put it down. I hate it. All her shots are, well, at her level, which means way more ass shots than one person deserves to see of herself in a lifetime. The horror. Although I almost peed myself when I saw some of the other shots. The camera has this thing where you can add stuff to your images. Hats, horns, googley eyes. Some how Miss D1 managed to add the googley eyes to a chest shot of her Great Grandmother. Got them right on target, if you know what I mean.

I think for D2, favorite gift was a tie between two things: a plastic spoon and cup and play dress up shoes. I've never seen a 20 month old so obsessed with accessories. That's my girl, alright. No denying that one.

Did I survive? I'm not really sure. I'll let you know next week when I catch up on sleep. But was it worth it? Yes, I think so. It was our first Christmas spent at home, our first time hosting the Hubby's whole family for Christmas dinner. Have I mentioned the word exhausted? Still, watching D1 and D2 run around and play with their new toys, unhurried or forced to do anything else? Totally worth it.

Seems like I should have more to say, I know I've been running blurbs through my brain for the past few days, but somehow I can't think of them now. It's just that I'm so tired....

Last Christmas

2008-12-22T04:29:00.001-08:00

So, last year was just really icky. In my sheltered suburban life it was probably the worst Christmas season I have ever experienced. We just moved into a temporary rental while we searched for the perfect house. We were getting yanked around by a seller with, an unbeknownst to us, very moldy house. The rental was AWFUL. I mean awful. No, really, it was awful. After two days of living there we found that it was infested with fleas. Very stubborn fleas that took nearly two months to kill. D2 was crawling and just learning to walk at this time. It was seriously the most disgusting thing I've ever experienced - she would crawl around on the floor for a while, then I would scoop her up and pick the fleas off of her hair and clothing. ICCKKKK. I'm getting itchy just thinking about it. If that wasn't enough, there were very large over grown trees on the property that I swore was going to hit the house in a storm. During very bad storms, I would actually move my daughters cribs away from the outer walls of their rooms, just in case. Then there was the crappy electricity. Every morning Hubby would take his shower and a fuse would blow so he would have to shower in the dark. Ok, so that made me giggle, but still it sucked. Oh, and then there was the phantom phone line that would randomly call 911 in the middle of the night, sending a police officer to wake us up and make sure we were ok. Hmmmm..... and did I mention that the owner was going into foreclosure and we would get certified mail every other day demanding payment? Good times, good times.

Half of our stuff was in the f'ing POD. It was brilliant, actually, we used one of those portable storage containers to store most of our stuff while we staged our tiny home to sale. Then we left it in there while we lived in the rental from hell. It became known as the F'ing POD because nearly anything I needed and looked for was in it. The rest of our stuff came with us to the rental from hell, but most of it was never unpacked because I did not want it infested with fleas.

I never felt so disconnected from my life. New town, no friends, no computer, no land line. No stuff. I've been thinking a lot lately about this, and I've really been feeling for those in true need this Christmas season. I've given just a little more than usual. I was certainly not even close to being homeless, and no, I'm not saying I know what it's like to live on the streets, but I do know how horrible that feeling of displacement can be.

Last Christmas my Hubby held me together. I don't think I've ever leaned on him more. Between post partum hormones still out of wack, and just the awful experience we were going through, I very nearly felt like I was going to break. Hubby kept me together.

All of our Christmas decorations were in the F'ing POD. There was nothing to make the house feel even a little festive. But one night, while the girls and I were escaping at my parents house, Patrick went out and bought a fake tree and some ornaments, and a wreath for the front door. It was beautiful, a lit emblem of hope and better days to come. That little tree symbolized love to me.

This year I've been feeling such a huge sense of gratitude. My kids, hubby and I are not only flea free, warm and safe, but we have so much more. A great house in a great neighborhood, new friends. We put our little artificial tree up in the family room. Decorated it with some retro 50's type things, plus a bunch of kid friends ornaments. It's my little tree of love.

Life with D1

2008-12-16T11:17:00.000-08:00

New Eyeglasses: $300
New Cell Phone: $200
Repaired Computer:$150
Repaired Garage Door: $125

Life with D1: Priceless

Hungry, Hungry Hippo

2008-12-11T19:38:00.000-08:00

So, when I was about four or five or six, my parents bought me some pretty cool stuff for Christmas. Two of the items I still have today. A child size rocking chair, and a hand sewn, numbered, 3 1/2 foot tall Raggedy Ann doll. I treasured them throughout my childhood. Now they are in D1's room, so that she can enjoy them as much as I did as a child. But on that particular Christmas day, when I found them under the tree, I did not quite see it that way. That year, more than anything, I really, really wanted The Hungry, Hungry Hippo game. It looked so cool, so fun, action packed and loud. After all the gifts and games were unwrapped, and I did not find the game I so desperately wanted, I had a full on tantrum. Said I hated all my gifts, didn't want to play with any of them, and I couldn't believe that Santa would do this to me. From my recollection, I slowly withdrew those statements, saying I hated everything but the doll, the rocking chair, the teddy bear and so on. From my Mother's recollection, I was a spoiled brat the whole day. Who is correct? I guess we'll never really know.

Years later, when I was 17, my Mother bought me the Hungry, Hungry Hippo for Christmas. It was a big show in forgiveness, something that must have been very difficult for her to overcome. D1 now plays with it when she visits her Mimi.

Looking back on that Christmas, I realize, obviously, that my Christmas was not ruined, however, my Mom's was seriously damaged. It's one of those things that I'm destined never to live down. She can hold it over my head to get just about anything, if she wanted.

So enter D1's fourth Christmas. Wow, I had to count that twice, has she really been with us for four Christmases already? It's all going by way too fast.

We got the girls a great play kitchen, musical instruments, lots of puzzles and craft supplies(which will be put away on a high shelf seconds after they open them - you don't think I'm that nuts, do you?), Plasma cars, and so on. Between hubby and I, plus the Grandparents, the amount of gifts this year are downright decadent. But D1 has started asking for something else. It was one of just two things she asked for in her letter to Santa. It's the Dora Prance and Fly Pegasus. It's a freaking plastic unicorn that comes with a Dora doll. According to the reviews on Amazon, if you put the Dora Doll on the back of the unicorn, the unicorn falls over. It's a piece of junk. An over priced piece of junk. $45! Before Thanksgiving, I told myself that if I found it for $29.99 I would buy it for her. I searched everywhere, checking multiple places online every single day, just in case the price was lowered. I bid on one through ebay. I searched Craigslist, I sent an email to my MOM's group asking if anyone had one their child no longer played with. I really, really tried, but I have not been able to find one for less than $39.99. I just have to keep to my original thought, I can't spend that much for a ridiculous toy that I know she won't really even play with for more than five minutes. But still, I keep thinking, is this it? Is this the year of the big karmic revenge? I told my Mom about the unicorn, and she said not to buy it, that D1 was getting lots of nice toys, and she needed to learn that she won't get everything she asks for from Santa, or the world for that matter. But I can't help but be suspicious over that advice. Did my Mom hang up the phone and start wildly cackling? "Revenge, so sweet, is finally mine!"

What if this is truly the only toy D1 wanted? Will I ruin her trust in all that is pure and magic? Will I crush her such a hard blow that she becomes a distrusting cynic at the ripe old age of three? Will this start a horrible trend of distrust for men the rest of her life? How can I possibly be responsible for such a decision? So my friends, please tell me - do I buy the plastic piece of crap for D1, to save her from a life of bad relationships, always ending because she can not trust a man? Is this really how it all begins? The weight of Motherhood is far too heavy!

Black Friday

2008-11-29T03:46:00.000-08:00

So after a very nice Thanksgiving dinner, and time spent with my family, my hubby ,kids and I drove back home. After the kids were in bed, I settled down with a nice cup of tea and the newspaper. I went through them and jotted down the specials I was interested in, and which stores I should go to. I was kind of excited, I have never in my life gone shopping Black Friday morning. I was giddy with the expectations of die hard shoppers, fighting there way through crowds to get their little girl that prized Cabbage Patch doll. Oh wait, that was thirty years ago, god, I'm getting old. But you get the picture, I was excited. Ended up going to bed around 12:30. At 2 am, D2 woke hubby and I up with a cry so loud, I'm certain my old neighbors in Jersey heard her as well. Well, at least D1 did, and so she was also awake. It took close to an hour before we had both girls asleep again. Hubby fell back asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. I hate that about him.

I layed in bed, gripping onto my edge, while D1 sprawled across the middle of the bed and hubby snored happily on his edge. I stayed that way for 45 minutes. Then decided to get up and start my shopping. Might as well, right? JcPenney's was opening at 4 am, so I figured I could start there. Time to do my part to get this economy back on track!

On my way to the mall, I stopped at Dunkin Donuts and bought the big coffee. My favorite, toasted almond with extra half n half, one sugar. Goodness in a styrofoam cup. Hmmmm... I might have to stop writing this to go make coffee.....

I walked into JcPenney's elated . High on caffeine and consumerism. I watched women pawing through the chatke crap piled high on the display tables. This brought me back to my old job as accessory buyer. I was in charge of the crap, the boxed gift program. The manicure kits, sewing kits, change purses, all those sort of things. The program did very well, and I always tried to imagine who these people were that actually bought this junk in such high volume. Now I knew, and I was here, with them. One of the people. The common folk. ( I should have titled this entry The One Where I Come Off As an Arrogant Stuck up BIOTCH.) I giggled out loud. I walked around the enormous lines at the cash register, and headed towards the lighting department. Oh, did I mention that I wasn't at Penney's to buy gifts, but to buy myself stuff? Christmas, shimmas, I had to decorate my living room! Did I also mention that I have been looking for lighting for this room since we moved into the house back in March? I had decided that it was some sort of genetic flaw, some gene in the wrong place. I was physically incapable of deciding on, and purchasing lamps. But today was the day. I was going to do it! So I didn't like the ones I saw advertised, and I began to get this ill feeling in my stomach. I HAVE TO BUY LAMPS. My husband will divorce me, I'm sure. So I picked out some lamps that I didn't really love, but that would provide the needed illumination. Then I headed towards the window treatment department to order curtains for the living room. This is where I discovered the shoppers delight: NO LINES AT THE REGISTER!! I was once again giddy. As the woman ordered my curtains and rang up my lamps, I chattered on and on. Like a whore on crack. " I was so excited to be out shopping, wasn't this exciting?" And on and on. I'm sure the middle aged woman that woke at 3 to go earn some minimum wage was just as thrilled. Sure.

It was now a few minutes to 5 am. Next stop was either Babies R Us or Toys r Us to buy the girls those little mini sofas that roll out into mini beds - at half off - wahoo! Hubby and I were desperately hoping that if we left those in our bedroom, D1 would sleep on that instead of our bed. I'm sure it will work. For two nights, at least. I decided Babies R Us instead of Toys r US when I saw the insane line of people waiting to get into Toys R Us. Babies R Us had a line, but it was only about 10-15 people. Manageable. Still, when the doors finally opened, I could feel the thrill as everyone rushed to get their carts. I hurried to the back of the store and found a table of the mini sofas. Crap! Only one with Tinker Bell. Several Princess ones. I hate the Princesses. Tink rocks. I searched under the table and all around. Then a woman, dressed in lounge pants, a tank top that stopped about two inches above her navel and a leopard print bra sticking out, rolled over with a Tinker Bell sofa in her cart. "Excuse me, where did you find that Tinker Bell sofa?" "Oh, over there on that shelf, it's the last one" The last one, the last one? But I need TWO Tink sofa's! What do I do, what do I do?

So I followed the leopard print bra lady around the store. When she was immersed in the $5 boxes of wipes, sorting through scented and unscented, I stole the Tink Sofa from her cart. Threw it in my cart. I was about half way through the store when I heard her yell. My adrenaline was pumping. I was laughing wildly. Cackling, really. I STOLE THE TINKER BELL SOFA! Hee Hee. I heard her running. What should I do? I ran into the ladies room with both sofa's, went into the last stall, and climbed onto the toilet, so my feet were not seen. I stayed this way, clutching onto the sofas for thirty minutes. Then I snuck back into the store, into line and bought the sofas. VICTORY WAS MINE!!!!!!!! I was so excited, I finally had my own Black Friday story. One that would live in enfamy for the rest of my life!!!! How exciting was that?

Ok, so that really didn't happen. But f0r one brief moment I thought about taking that lady's mini sofa. I really, really wanted it. But I bought two of the Princess sofas instead. Sighhhhh.

The next and last stop was Kmart. Mobbed. I spent about an hour finding all the things I needed there. Then got into the wrong line. Stood in line for close to an hour. This is when it dawned on me that I was exhausted. Walking out of the store, it was finally light out. So bizarre, I've walked into stores with light, to come out with darkness, but never the opposite.

I got home and I was exhausted. What the hell was I thinking? Now I had to survive the day with two little ones on less than two hours sleep. I felt hungover. The post shopping crash.

Conversations with a Lunatic

2008-11-20T06:36:00.001-08:00

So, this post is going to have no cohesion at all. Well, maybe a little, I mean, I'll try my best to have some sort of point. But I'm not making any promises. In fact, I can't even remember what I was planning on writing about. Crap. It's just that I would really like to post more, but D1 has become obsessed with Noggin.com, and if I come even close to the 'puter she starts screaming "I want my Noggin". Very annoying. So I try to store all this stuff in my head to write later, but later never happens.

Ok, I think I remember what I was going to write about. Here goes.

We are having our living room and dining room painted. I'm in love with the painter. I may ask her to marry me. I love that she's a woman, first of all. It's so much easier having her in the house. I don't care if she sees me in my jammies, and I don't even flinch too much when D1 decides to go streaking through the house. Plus, I have a real live grown up to talk to! She's very nice, and interesting, and responds in full sentences. I've been contemplating trapping her in my closet, and never letting her go. Ohhh, and in addition to painting, she also offers re-decorating services. She's one of those people who will take what you have, rearrange it, and make it look way better than it did before. I LOVE HER.

Ok, so that wasn't my point, either. My point was, that having someone else in the house has made me very aware of how I talk with the girls. Knowing that she is potentially listening, I actually HEAR our conversations more, like she, as a stranger hears them. The first thing I've become very aware of, is that I constantly refer to myself as Mommy, or Mama. You know, in the third person. Very annoying. I'm starting to wonder if I will start doing this with others. "Jen would like another martini" or "Jen will be ordering her filet rare tonight" Creepy. But then I was thinking, maybe it's a part of a whole denial type thing. Like, oh my god, I can't possibly be the mom here in this situation. I'm way too young and irresponsible to have two lives entrusted to me. I'm still in high school and planning on how to skip school, right? Denial is a strong force, but it shouldn't have to lead to such an annoying habit, right? Maybe my New Year's resolution will be to stop this. But, Jen will see, Jen has a lot of things she should resolve not to do. Jen thinks maybe this should be on the bottom of Jen's list.

Then, the other night at dinner, much loved painter was still there, working on the dining room, which is adjacent to the kitchen. The whole time I wondered if she could hear my conversation with D1 and D2 (husband was MIA). This I would have to list under things I never I thought I would have to say. Here are a few snippets to prove my point:

"D1, stop running laps around the table"
"D2, why did you put lentils in your hair"
"D1, where are your panties"
"D2, please don't put lentils in your ear"

I swear, I live in some bizarro alternate universe. How the hell did I get here?

The other thing I wanted to tell you about is my complete lack of conversation skills. I think I talked about this once before, but too bad, I'm going to do it again.

I can no longer hold a conversation. Part of the problem is that when I do actually get to talk to a real live grown up, either in person or on the phone, I'm very aware that my time to speak is very limited, interruptions can come at any moment, and very suddenly. You know how it is, your kids completely ignore you, till they see you are on the phone, or doing something more interesting than watch them watch tv. Maddening. But what has happened, is that even when I do have kid free talk time, I don't know how to hold a conversation. I talk rapid fire style, very loudly,(as if I'm talking over a screaming child) I skip from one subject to another, with no cohesion, rhyme or reason. Like a whore on crack. Not that I've ever been a whore on crack, nor to my knowledge have I ever spoken to one, but I'm certain talking to Jen is like talking to one.

Ok, I think I'm done, although I think there were a few more points I wanted to make. But now I forget.

Oh, one other thing. D2's verbal skills are really progressing. Of course I am proud of her, but a recent development has made me kind of sad. She has stopped her instinctive calling of MAA MAAA. It has been replaced with Mommy. Or rather, MOMMMMMIIIEEEEEE. Very cute, but a definite sign that she isn't a baby anymore. Makes me sad. Of course, I know the time will come very soon where I am called Mother, with eyes rolling and glaring. I should relish the Mommy's I hear called out.

Just one more thing. We've been going to Soccertots, which has been, well, interesting. Another Mom in D2's class is really nice, and I just love her daughter. A really easy going, happy little girl. But here's the thing. The Mom is pregnant, and I'm just dieing to ask what she is going to name her next child. Her first is named Dale. And it's been killing me NOT to ask if she will be naming the second Chip. I told hubby that the other day, and he said he'd divorce me if I asked. But come on, wouldn't you want to ask, too?

Alright, really, I'm done.

To Eat the Apple

2008-11-13T07:02:00.000-08:00

So, not unusually, I’m sure, my daughters LOVE to be naked. Little D2, when she manages to escape mid-diaper change, will run around slapping her hiney, gleefully chanting “bum,bum,bum!” While potty training D1, I allowed her to be naked quite a lot. She still prefers to be this way. She spends the majority of her time at home undressed, or half-dressed. I really do try to keep her clothed, especially with the colder weather. But it is a losing battle that I only half-heartedly fight. I know I have to teach her that it is not appropriate to spend your time naked. Certainly not with other children or adults, and definitely not in public, or even in the privacy of your own backyard, with others watching. I know this. I know it is our cultural ways, and this post is certainly not a pro-nudist statement on the woes of our clothed society. It is a statement on the woes of our perfectionist, beauty and body ideal obsessed society. So I apologize, my self deprecating or D2 antics are probably my better (please, be kind!) writing. This one may be a little sappy, more like a greeting card than a Jen Adventure. Consider yourself warned.

I love the absolute naturalness of their time spent without clothes. The complete lack of self consciousness. The way D2 will pause, mid play, completely naked, to stare at the TV in front of her. Holding her body in a comfortable stance. Her belly poking out, her dimply behind relaxed. Perfect. Unencumbered. Absolute beauty. D2 running around in circles, dancing, blissfully free. Before I know it, they will haven taken the bite from that apple. Self consciousness will set in. Embarrassment. The needed modesty to exist in our society. And with it, a part of their innocence. Their babyhood. Gone, forever.

What will take its place? Confidence in the capability, strength and beauty of their body, which is merely protected under clothing? Or discontent, hatred even, of the inadequacies they detect? Dimples, lack of muscles, cellulite? As someone who has battled with body image issues from a very young age, how do I raise confident, body accepting women? Will it be all my fault? Was it all my Mother’s fault for my issues? I think not. Where does it come from? Is it just a roll of the dice, a part of the way you simply are – just like a dislike of mushrooms, or a hot temper? Or is it a societal problem, starting from Disney and the Princesses, onto Hannah Montana and finally Vogue?

Is there a solution? Keep them away from all media? Please. Cinderella just seeps into them; they wake up one day, and love her. I think it’s something they put into the juice boxes of little girls. It’s simply there. Perhaps it’s up to me to introduce them to stronger women. Less physically perfect, but fierce and beautiful all the same.

I paused for a long time after that last sentence. Sad, but who are these women? Do I have to reach all the way back to Greek and Roman mythology? Do we have any present day examples? And please, not athletes. I don’t find them to be appropriate roll models, either. How upsetting, I can’t think of one.

For now, I will hold onto their little selves. Their freedom and grace. I know their perfect little bodies will carry them through amazing lives. Those bodies will be their vehicles to see, hear and feel so many amazing things. I will treasure that, for them.

I know, Halloween is over, this is not very timely at all

2008-11-03T19:07:00.000-08:00

So I was too busy all weekend to post about Halloween, and I'm sure you are, like myself, very glad it's all over. I won't go into the full details of the day, but there is just one thing I just have to discuss.

D1 woke at 6 am on Halloween, ready to go trick or treating. Never tell a three year old a whole day in advance what she will doing. By 6:30 she had on some of her dress up clothes. The skimpy kind that have these little patches of velcro on the back to keep it on. She had on the Cinderella get up, to be exact, which features a little emblem of Cinderella, and a strip down the center bodice of sparkly sequins. Over breakfast she is insisting that this is what she will be wearing for trick or treat. I'm trying to get her to wear the Tigger costume, which coordinates with D2's Eeyore costume. Both the Eeyore and Tigger costumes are made of very warm fleece. A much more practical option in the cold weather.

I tell her "this costume is way too cold, it will be night, and very cold out" She says "but Mom, it has sparkles. The sparkles will keep me warm"

I was speechless. I was simutaneously sent back in time, and propelled forward. Thoughts of myself in college, abroad in London, wearing high heels I could barely walk in, a sheer shirt and mini, freezing my ass of in the December cold, all to look good at a night club came to mind. And suddenly the image of myself, but with D1's face popped in.

She's a club kid in the making, I can see it now. My little fashionista.

The Freaking Orange Napkins That Say BOO!

2008-10-30T19:05:00.000-07:00

So do you watch the show "The New Adventures of Old Christine" ? I don't watch it every week, but I catch it often enough. I've always thought it very funny when they feature Christine's lousy skills at volunteering at her son's school.

Found it funny, but never really related to it. Until today. I'm certain what happened today will be relived on some psychiatrist's couch 30 years from now as D1 laments that her Mother never really cared.

D1 had her Halloween party today. Last week a sign up sheet was put up for the parents to volunteer to bring something - a snack, juice, prizes, treats, napkins, and plates. The usual kid party fare. I quickly rejected the treats, prizes and snacks because it sounded like way too much pressure. I mean, it was the first party and all, what was the right thing to bring? I didn't know. So I did the lame (and cheap!) thing, and volunteered to buy the napkins. Which I did, that same day, in fact. Actually had anxiety over picking them out. Should I have consulted with the buyer of the plates to make sure they coordinated? I didn't know. So I went out on a limb and paid $2.78 for two packs of orange napkins that said BOO!.

All I knew about the day of the party was that I dropped her off in her costume, then I came back 30 minutes earlier than normal to watch the kids parade around and then go back to their classroom to sing songs. Somehow I read into this that the party was along with the song singing. And actually, I put some thought into this the night before. Do I bring the napkins when I drop her off, or will I get eyes rolled at me? Am I suppose to bring them when I come to see the parade, so I can help set up?

I finally decided that I would bring them along with me when I was dropping her off, just in case.
That's what I decided last night. See, I put thought into it - ahead of time.

This morning involved the usual power struggles of eating breakfast, using the potty and fighting with her sister. Plus extra angst around getting dressed in her Princess costume. While I was changing D2's diaper, D1 went into my room to use my makeup. Because everyone knows that Princesses wear makeup. Remember? D1 comes out with blue and black smeared all over her face. Arghhhh. I only get about half of it off. Too pissed that she dipped my over priced eye make brushes into my lipstick. (any tips on getting those cleaned? Please, let me know!) Then there is the fight over what to wear under the Princess dress. I want leggings and a long sleeve top. She wants no top and black stockings. Arghhhh. We finally agree on a top and multi-colored tights. Fine. She's doesn't let me brush her hair. Fine.

Actually on time, I get both girls buckled into the car. As I'm backing up the car, I realize I forgot the freaking napkins. Should I go back? Nah, too cold out. I'll just bring them with me later.

As we pull up, I try to put her tiara on, she crys that it hurts her ears. Fine. Just carry it. Oh, and you broke the wand? Fine. Just carry it that way.

We line up outside the building, with the other Mom's and their costumed children. 8 other little girls. A cheerleader, little bo peep and 6 other freaking princesses. Perfectly coiffed Princesses. With clean, shiny faces, styled hair with bobby pinned tiara's, coordinating and warm under clothes. Princesses that Disney would be proud to call their own.

As we are entering the class, I see that all the other Mom's have brought along their assigned party paraphnelia. Beautiful orange cup cakes, goody bags overflowing with treats. Plates, cups, the whole caboodle. I tell the teacher that I will bring mine later, when we come back. She gives me a puzzled look then says "oh, we'll just use our plain napkins, because actually, the party is BEFORE the parade".

I ruined my daughter's first halloween party because she did not have Boo! napkins. I just know this will be used against me. And I'm expected to sleep tonight? You should have seen the looks of the other Mom's. The Mom's who managed to brush their daughter's hair and stuff goody bags. The Mom's who washed their child's faces and decorated cup cakes. You know what they were thinking. I know what they were thinking - it was written all over them. "She couldn't remember some freaking orange napkins?" "She ruined my child's party!"

I don't know how I will live this down. For the Christmas party I suppose I could volunteer for something big, like the goody bags. I could redeem myself by stuffing those bags to near breaking with Santa chatkes. But what if I volunteer, and like three days later I get a call from the room Mom? " Uh yeah, the rest of the Mom's were talking, and we're just not sure you're ready for this responsibility, after your poor performance at the Halloween party. This is just much too important to our 3 year old's lives, to just hand over such a responsibility to a Mom like you. Perhaps you should just take baby steps, and volunteer to bring in the plates"

The Horror.

Guru For Hire

2008-10-26T13:12:00.001-07:00

So, do you want to know what is my true ambition in life? My biggest dream? I want to be a guru. Your guru. Somebody's guru. Are you looking for one? I'm available. I'm convinced this is my true calling in life. What I was meant to do. I'm pretty sure I would excel. I could wear long flowy dresses, and dye my hair burgundy. Wear lots of clinking jewelry. Maybe even walk around with a pair of fairy wings. I think I could definitely look the part of a guru. From my mansion, I would tell people that I don't do it for the money, but for the good of mankind. I could even do infomercials, available for viewing at 1 am and 3 am. I could sell my books and framed photos of myself on QVC at 2 am. I would be the answer to every insomniacs dream.

I've put a lot of thought into this. How does one become a guru, do you think? I'm pretty sure I need some kind of specialty.

For a while, I thought I could become certified in yoga, tweak it a little into some sort of jenism and then become a guru. But I realized this would require me to ~~get my ass off of my sofa~~ become more flexible than I presently am. So I threw that idea out the door.

The secrets told in this blog definitely ruined my chances of becoming a parenting guru. Unless someone wants to know my secrets to getting your children to run around naked in the backyard and refuse to have their faces washed.

This blog also ruined my chances of being the next cleaning guru. Maybe I could take a stance on NOT cleaning. I'm pretty sure I could round up a few people to buy that one. Cleaning is a dredge to your psyche! Stop now!

Perhaps I can make up my own religion. Become a cult leader. I could use my blog as a sort of recruitment site. What would the basis of my religion be? I have unlocked the secrets of the universe! Enlightment can be obtained! It's a precarious thing, but if you are careful enough somewhere between 16 and 16.2 ounces of coffee you will see the light! Just be sure to add the right amount of sugar and half n half and astral projection will also be possible.

I need bam bams for my boo boo's on my ba ba's

2008-10-15T15:59:00.000-07:00

So I think I've mentioned that I live in a very conservative suburban neighborhood, complete with a Home Owner's Association with rules out the wazoo and every other house proudly waving their McCain signs. And I know I've mentioned my very nice neighbor with the immaculate house. Should also mention that her children are always nicely (and fully!) dressed with brushed hair and clean faces.

Enter The Henny Crew. When playing in the back yard, I consider it a good day if both girls have on a shirt and a pair of pants. A clean shirt and pants and the heaven's are shining down on us. Clean clothes, shoes, combed hair and washed faces are, well are nothing, because it's yet to happen.

On Saturday, my sister, nephew and Mom came to visit for the day. The weather was just incredible, so we spent the day playing and talking in the back yard. Got some take out for lunch. Which after eating, the girls threw the empty hoagie containers and water bottles all over the yard. Gave the place that touch of Appalachia look. Real nice.

The girls started out dressed. Then D1 decided her ba ba's (yes, that's what she calls her nipples, sorry I'm not big on using the proper terminology for body parts. Please, it's the least of my problems) hurt her. So she took off her shirt. Convinced her Mimi that she needed band aid's for them. Or as she calls them, bam bams. Mimi wasn't getting the bam bam's fast enough, so D1 starts crying loudly, "I need bam bams for my boo boo's on my ba ba's! PLEAASSSEEE!" Try saying that three times fast. Mimi has bright green bam bams, which she places over each of D1's nipples. Looks sort of like, well, you know what it looks like, I don't have to say. I then chase her around for a few minutes, trying to get her shirt back on her, all the while thinking, please god don't let the neighbors see this!

About a half hour passes with both girls fully clothed. Then D1 takes off her skirt and panties. "Mama ! I have to pee!" "Ok, D1, lets go inside" "No Mama, I pee in bushes!" And so I chase her around the yard, telling her that we don't need to pee in bushes because we have a potty right inside. She escapes me and crawls under her Little Tikes Play structure and sits, not squats, and starts to pee. I'm screaming, "squat! squat!" She actually gets it, and at least doesn't pee all over her self. Before she crawls out she also takes off her shirt. I then have to chase my completely naked 3 year old around the yard to get her dressed. Completely naked except for the bam bam's.

I wonder how many neighbors saw us, and if they are notifying the HOA of these interlopers that have pushed their way into their fine neighborhood.

Blog in Real Life

2008-10-12T19:24:00.000-07:00

So one of the tips I read about gaining readers for your blog is to have a link to it under your signature on your email. I figured I'd try this, and it has worked, I've had quite a few people tell me that they have read my blog,and actually enjoy it (wow!)

But this has created a few issues. One being that I often forget to delete it before sending emails to people that I don't really want to read it. AWKWARD. Although, I have to say that most of those have turned out ok. I've actually found quite a few supporters that way.

But the really awkward thing is, well, to sum it up, my life is pretty lame. I don't have a whole lot to say. The things I do have to say usually end up in the blog. So then I'm out, say with the MOM's Club, and I know that several of the Mom's read my blog, or at least have perused it once or twice. So there I am rambling on as I usually do, and I realize crap, I've already said this on the blog. How lame am I? What if I tell it a little differently or something? Will they think I'm a liar? Or just a bore? Cuz like I'm sure there lives are way more exciting - you know in their little stay at home Mom worlds, right?

Then I also notice often that after I'm with people that I know read my blog, that my traffic goes up. Are people checking to see if I write about them? Maybe this is just conceited of me to think, but I know that if I knew someone in real life that blogged, I'd totally do that. In fact, I think I'm going to befriend a blogger in real life, just for that reason.

So today I went to a meeting about the really cool Charter School they are trying to open in this area. One of the men there said to the group - "Jen writes this really cool blog" (how cool was that?) and one woman asks "what is it about?" And I think, hmmm.. I barely know these people - what should I say it's about? The writings of a neurotic stay at home mom who drinks way too much coffee, does embarrassing things and really has nothing of substance to discuss? Is that what it's about? So I just said it's a "family blog". They all looked so disappointed. This probably would of been a good time for that random lieing, errr, storymaking thing I've mentioned to kick in. I could have said "Since I'm now a stay at home Mom, I'm putting my Harvard education to use by discussing the research I did on Neuroscience." Hmmmm I can't even sound intelligent if I make shit up. Oh well.

Which, while I'm on the subject of that meeting. Can I tell you it made me realize something else? I'm totally losing social skills. Just 3.5 short years ago, I could stand up in a meeting and really push to have my thoughts and opinions heard and understood. I feel like I'm reverting back to that awkward 12 year old who was afraid of her own voice. Maybe I just spend way too much time in front of the computer. Or maybe it's my constant companions are 3 and 1 1/2. Arghhh. Event's like that make me think I really need to go back to work. I swear, I contributed nothing, and when I did speak up I stuttered. What the hell?

And now since this post has lost any semblance of cohesion, I want to mention - did you see how I started this post? With the word "so". I'm thinking, I could probably start every post with this word. It's such a great opener for our generation.

Getting Old

2008-10-09T01:15:00.000-07:00

So my old college friend came to visit this past weekend - the one who had to cancel back in August. Remember that post? The one where I went on about how much we would drink? Yeah. I guess I can start to use our periodic visits as age markers. Haven't seen her in about 2.5 years. Our lameness has definitely progressed quite rapidly since then. They arrived around 10:30 on Friday. We quickly chatted and then both of us were in bed by midnight. She had a glass of wine, to help her sleep (yeah, not for the joy of it, just as a sleep aid.) I barely choked down a beer. The next morning we were all REALLY excited to drink coffee. Yep, coffee. Then she & I escaped from the kids and husbands to run errands. Yep, errands. Did stop for some killer lattes, though. WAHOO! We were wired!

Had a great day playing with the kids at the playground and walking around our town and neighborhood. Was able to exhale when I saw that D1 and my friends 4 yr old got along very well. They were actually very cute together - all huggy and kissy in that cute preschooler way.

Made a great dinner, where once I again I barely choked down a beer. Stopped after three quarters of it because it was making me sleepy. Yep, sleepy. Got the kids asleep by 9. Time to party! WAHOO! So we made ice cream sundaes and watched tv. Even stayed up through the opening monologue of SNL. WAHOO! Not the entire show, mind you, just through the monologue.

It really was a wonderful weekend. Very, uh, mature of us to conduct ourselves in such a restrained manner. Yeah, that's it, we were restraining ourselves from any wild behaviour.

Truly though, the weekend made me very happy. And it made me realize just how priceless an old friend who is getting old along with you can be. She was right along with me at age 20 partying and making all sorts of stupid decisions. She knew me when. And she still loves me now. Jammy wearing, coffee drinking, practical shoe wearing me. And I love her now, too. Sweat pant loving, bunion afflicted and practical car driving beautiful Suz.

Which One?

2008-09-29T20:16:00.000-07:00

So Jen at Absolutely Bananas wants to know about our most embarrassing moment.

Hmmmmm.

God, I have so many of them. It's like asking a wine connoisseur to name her favorite wine. I mean, can it really be narrowed down to just one? Although, I have to say that since my Hubby arranged it so that I was put under lock down, I mean put into hiding, no, no, that is to say I've become a stay at home Mom, there haven't been that many embarrassing moments. Perhaps I've just become accustomed to them, or Motherhood has given me a new found sense of confidence and therefore life's little imperfect moments just don't phase me. Or maybe I just don't get out that much. Or I just don't get out that much, and after spending many months going out and bringing my boobs out for all to see, I just don't care about the little guffaws. ( No dumb ass, I don't bring 'em out for fun, I was referring to breastfeeding.)

There was most definitely a short period of time in my life when it seemed like I was just living one big embarrassing moment. It was the first year after college. The year I moved in with my husband (then boyfriend) ,adjusted to life in Staten Island and started my first real job. Well lets re-word that, because can anyone ever really adjust to life in Staten Island? If you weren't born and raised there, that is? I don't think so. I still shudder at the thought. Ughhhh.

There was the time I twisted my ankle crossing 5th ave. Fell right to the ground. Had people practically trampling me, without one offer of help.

There was that time I won a free turkey at a drawing from work. Had to lug that 20 pound frozen turkey down 5 blocks, through two subway trains, onto the SI ferry then onto a friggin bus. You haven't lived till you've been a NYC straphanger with a frozen dead bird wedged between your legs, sitting on the nasty subway floor(the bird, not me!).

Then there was that time the SI bus ate me. The back doors closed shut, with my feet on the outside, standing on the ground, while the rest of me was inside the bus. Just a little awkward.

Or the time I made it all the way home, through that long ass commute, only to have my husband point out to me that I had a big ol' rip in the back of my black skirt, showing off my white granny panties.

I could never forget the time I was running late for work. As I entered the large waiting area in the ferry terminal, I could see the doors begin to close. I ran for it. And in very sloooooowwwww mooootiiiiooonnn I could feel myself falling, yet I couldn't stop running. I ended up flying through the air super man style, then slid a couple more feet along the ground. Missed that damn ferry. But got to spend the next 30 minutes waiting with a man who helped me up. Told me I reminded him of his ex-girlfriend, the one that was a pro-wrestler.

And a favorite with my family - the late night ferry ride after a really bad day of work. Thought I'd treat myself to a beer. Ended up spilling the beer all over myself. As I was cleaning it off of my skirt, realized I was spraying it all over the Wall St guy across from me. So I asked him if he wanted some. He just stared. What was I to do? I bought another one, and then sat there laughing my ass off. Laughing my ass of to no one else. The Wall St guy moved to another seat. Guess he didn't want to be near the crazy chick talking to her self.

Yes, 1997 was a very good vintage.

SOS

2008-09-26T09:43:00.000-07:00

Help me.

It's been seven days since my captors have held me here in this place. At first they showed mercy upon me and allowed me to quietly work as their servant. But several days ago the melee really began, after I angered them by encouraging them to get some sleep, they have become quite insane. Their actions are completely irrational - I never know what to expect or how they will react to me.

I'm frightened.

The germ warfare is relentless. Just as I feel myself gaining strength, they reinfect me with their horrible colds and flu. I have been continuously ill this long, long week.

The larger one - the one they use to communicate with me - is using my lack of patience as a sort of torture. She is creating horrible messes that she then requires me to clean up. Seeing my fatigue, she has increased the frequency of these disasters, in order to break me, is my thought.

The smaller one is following the larger ones orders, I believe. She has also added to the torture by emitting these strange, high frequency sounds, screeches really, over and over.

They will not leave me alone for even one moment. Not even to pee or shower. I believe they fear I will escape. And the sleep deprivation, oh the horrors of this. I am beginning to hallucinate from the lack of sleep.

They have left crumbs of food all over the family room. In an effort to invite ants in from the deck. It has worked. Between my captors and the ants I will soon break.

My husband has managed to escape, he promised to send back up, but I fear he has abandoned me.

I've repeatedly asked what their demands are - what do they want in order to let me go. So far their only request has been cookies - but every time I give them some, they go back on their promise and do not release me.

Please send help..........

I'm your Mother, not your....

2008-09-21T19:44:00.000-07:00

Barf Bag. Ok, so that's probably not what Jen at Absolutely Bananas was thinking of when she provided today's prompt, but that's all I've got right now.

I have had the most disgusting five days of my life. Hubby was away this week - from Tuesday till late Friday he was roughing it at a Hilton down south. Eating steaks and drinking scotch, while I was just trying to stay busy so as not to go crazy.

Half way through my stint as a single mom, I awoke Thursday at 4 am to the sounds of D2 crying. As I went to her room, I remember thinking I don't feel so good. What greeted me in her room was a whole lot of vomit. The next five days proved to be a whole lot of stomach flu for D2,me,D1, my inlaws and finally hubby. Yes, in that order. Oh, except D1 and D2 keep re-infecting each other and continue to be sick. I have seen enough vomit to last the rest of my life. Unfortunately, with the girls only at 18 months and 3 years, something tells me I have a lot more in store. Hopefully soon they will understand the wonderful toilet as receptacle. Not Mom as receptacle.

I'm your Mom, not your toilet.

Now, if you are thinking, way too much information there, let me tell you, you should have seen the details I typed up and erased!

I'm their Mom, but that doesn't mean I'm unselfish. While they were so sick and feverish, it gave me some time with them that I would be denied if they had been well. Miss Wiggles herself, D2, allowed me to rock her to sleep. I got to hold her, and stare down at her sleeping face - with it's cherubic chubby cheeks and streaky blond hair. I held her long past the point she fell asleep, just staring and cherishing. D1, too, fell asleep on my lap while watching tv. I was able to stroke her hair and stare down at her perfect little nose, feel her soft hair.

So D1 and D2, when you turn 13 and decide you hate me, remember, I'm your Mom, the one who will always take care of you when you are sick. Always. So at 13, remember, I'm your Mother not your enemy.

Coach

2008-09-17T17:18:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again. The fall and spring make me think of a lot of things. But since having spent time working as an accessories buyer, this time of year means time to change your handbag! It was a definite perk of the job - I had an endless supply of handbags I could wear test or buy uber-cheap. I didn't have to be practical and buy a boring black one that would go with everything. I could experiment, pick a fun color, and if I didn't like it, oh well, I'd find something new. God, I miss that. Have you seen what a good handbag costs these days? I have a horrible, horrible confession to make. And all my former co-workers, if they were to read this would probably be appalled.

The last handbag I bought myself was from Kmart. Yep, Kmart. Not even Target. Kmart. A black suede one that went with everything I wore. The horror.

Now back in my handbag buying days, I was still frugal. But it was ok, I could get buy with samples and clearance bags from Aigner. We studied, and sometimes,uh, "interpreted" other brands, including Coach. I had a healthy appreciation for Coach bags, thought they did a great job. But I never really wanted one for myself. Especially not their logo bags. I kind of found it desperate to be displaying to all the world exactly what handbag you were carrying.

Yeah, 4 years and 2 babies can make a world of difference.

Last Christmas, my husband for perhaps the first time ever, truly surprised me with a gift. It wasn't on my list, but I was absolutely positively in love with it. It was a Coach handbag. Tobacco leather trim with their jaquard logo fabric and big chunky equestrian style hardware. I LOOOOOVED it. I promised him I would take care of it, and only use it for special occasions. Then I promptly emptied out my cheap ass Kmart bag and threw it out. And didn't stop using the Coach bag till June, when it was time to change to a summer bag.

It surprised me how thrilled I was over that bag. I can't even explain it. I guess it made me feel like my old self. Not just practical Mom. Who cares if I have peanut butter smeared all over my shirt? At least my handbag is stylin'.

And now it's Fall again. I'm so excited. Time to bring out the Coach bag again.

I wonder if I'll get another one this Christmas????

And back up again

2008-09-16T16:22:00.001-07:00

It's just been a roller coaster of emotions lately.......

just when I thought I was going to just sink into ~~an enormous bowl of ice cream~~ a pit of despair and never get myself out, I found another place to take belly dancing. Yay for me!

And, I recruited a new friend to join me! I wonder how she feels about creating a story line. Maybe we can be two biker chix. Our biker men signed us up for this class so they could do biker men things alone once a week. We could come in wearing leather jackets with fringe, and fake tattoo's on our arms. Drop lots of F bombs and pretend we smoke.

I guess the minivan with the soccer magnet badly parked in the lot will give that one away......

Deflated

2008-09-15T17:46:00.000-07:00

I'm so friggin disappointed. I just received a call. My belly dancing class is cancelled - not enough people signed up for it.

Now what? Hubby said good, now we could put the money towards the sump pump we just found out we needed. Yeah, wa-freakin-hoo.

I'll probably end up taking the yoga class instead, but been there, done that. I wanted something new.

That just sucks.

Back To Mom

2008-09-13T17:53:00.000-07:00

Today I decided to follow a writing prompt from Jen at Absolutely Bananas. Her prompt asked What are you doing just for you? When I read the prompt, I chuckled, thinking of how I had made a promise to myself on THIS post to do the very same thing.

So actually, I'm finally doing something for me. I signed up for a class that starts in about two weeks. A class that at first I was very excited about, but now I'm getting REALLY nervous about. Yes, this gal, who is continually teased by her husband's family for having no rhythm, who can barely walk without tripping, is taking a BELLY DANCING class! Last month, when the community college course catalog came in, I perused it. Decided it was a good idea to sign up for a class. I thought about yoga, about painting, even a computer graphics course. But I kept paging back to the belly dancing class. So I figured, what the hell, I'm gonna do it. I'm really getting nervous, though. It dawned on me today that during the first class I might actually be expected to bare my belly. I guess I hadn't thought about that. In reality, this neglected, two pregnancy body needs at least 40 4 classes to be ready for the world to see. Then I thought, oh no! What if it's a bunch of late teen/early twentysomethings taking the class? I mean, who else wants to learn to belly dance? I guess I'll find out.

Then I started getting excited. Time for me! All alone! I won't even be spending it doing kid related activities. I mean with the MOM's club's night outs, I spend it with other Mom's talking about our kids. That's really the only time I get out. This is time to be the real me. Not the Mom me.

Maybe I'll indulge my fetish for lying to strangers (hmmm... haven't I told you about that yet? That's a whole other post) Maybe I'll tell them I'm single. An artist living in a loft in Bethlehem. I spend my time sculpting and throwing wild parties. Yes, I'm a struggling artist that pays her rent by working as a barista in some coffee shop. I'm way too intelligent for that job, but I just can't tolerate the idea of a real job. I mean how uninspiring. And I spend my summers traveling Europe, staying in the homes of other artists, drinking wine and eating nothing but olives and cheese.

Oh, crap, my entire wardrobe has been purchased from Target and Kohls. Somehow I think that will give away the truth. Hmmmm......

I said it was time to be the real me. I guess that's who I'll have to be. Jen, the klutzy, wacky, over caffeinated, Mom of two. That will just have to do.

Happy Birthday to Me

2008-09-11T18:19:00.000-07:00

Today is my 34th birthday, or the 7th anniversary of my 27th. You know, the year that one of the worst acts of terrorism occurred in the U.S..

This year was a good one. A quiet day. My husband and D1 woke me with flowers, waffles and coffee in bed. Who doesn't love coffee in bed? Then we took D1 to school and had the parent orientation while D1 was in class. My parents came up, watched D2 for us.

The rest of the day was a quiet one spent with the girls and my parents. Dinner was with the girls, hubby and my Mom. We wore party hats at D1's request and ate pizza. My birthday cake was the best chocolate cake EVER. Have you tried the chocolate cake from Wegman's? If you haven't, do it. It's simple yet PERFECT. Did I mention how much I love this cake?

Then the girls danced around in the family room for us and I read The Birthday Monster book to D1. The girls went off to bed, and then some really nice hanging out time with hubby and my Mom.

Perfect, really.

Some days I want to pull my hair out and run far, far away from this homemakers life. But other days, like today, it just seems way to perfect.

Cute Kid Moment

2008-09-10T12:15:00.000-07:00

So, in theory, I don't believe in using food as a reward. I think it sends the the wrong message. In theory.

Anyways, about a week ago, D1 pooped on the potty - yay! This made up 3 stickers, which equals a prize. I was all out of prizes. But I was craving ice cream. So I gave her a scoop of ice cream as her reward. I also gave myself a scoop, you know, as my reward.

Of course after she earned 3 more stickers, she wanted ice cream again, but I went back to my theories, and didn't give it to her.

Last night, after I put D1 to bed, I helped myself to a bowl of ice cream. A few minutes later, D1 comes back downstairs.

She sees my ice cream, claps and says "yay Mommy! Did you poop? Good for you! You got a prize!"

Of course Hubby replies, "no sweetie, for Mommy actually pooping is it's own reward"

A Rant Of Sorts

2008-09-08T17:30:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned it before, but I really hate cleaning. I always have - the rewards are so temporary. By picking up, making a bed, cleaning the floor, you've changed nothing, really. It's such a fleeting sense of satisfaction, a short burst of ain't this nice. Before kids, before I was home all day, my messiness was a source of annoyance. But I was able to explain it away. Oh, I'm too busy at work to keep my desk clean, I have better things to do. Fun things await me. Now I feel as if it defines me. This messiness is me. It deflates me, pulls me down. It's just always there, IN MY FACE. The list of things to do that I don't want to do. And then, when I do it, like I said above. It's SO temporary. And no, I'm not that person that coincides happily with her mess. No, I can't find where everything is, yes, it does bother me. I'm just not that good at it. Keeping up after the mess, that is. And I wish I could tell you that this blog is the blog of a before and after. You know, "I was a slob, then I saw the light and look how fabulous my life is now. I changed my life, you can to, just read my blog and click on the ads, and you too will be a converted ex-slob." Nope, that's not going to happen. Stop by again in another year, and I'll still be bitching about the mess in my house.

So my impromptu visit to my neighbor's house was especially maddening to me. We have a new neighbor that moved in next door. We have two things in common: 1) we are both new to the neighborhood 2) We are both stay at home Mom's with kids similar in ages. Her kids are 4,2 and 7 months. Her older kids are girls. Since they've moved in, we've met up in the yards several times for spur of the moment playdates. Her kids have knocked on our back door a few times, and D1 has shown up in their yard even more.

So on Friday D1 wants to knock on their front door. I say yes, figuring if they aren't busy they will say meet us in the backyard. I mean to this point we haven't actually been in each others homes, why would we start now? So D1 rings the bell and Mommy neighbor answers and says they are just getting ready to go out, but they have a few minutes so why don't we come upstairs. UPSTAIRS? Who invites near strangers UPSTAIRS?? So I suck in my breath, thinking, "Wow, She must be really secure or really laid back to let us UPSTAIRS" As we climb the steps I start to panic "what is this, no toys, no shoes, no CRAP on the way up?" Then we are up, in the bedroom the two older girls share. And it is CLEAN. Toys are not strewn on the floor, clothes are not hanging out of the dressers. It's clean. THE UPSTAIRS.

Did I mention this was an unplanned visit? So then Mommy neighbor invites me on a tour, to see the rest of the newly painted house. The master bedroom - the bed is made. Even into the master bath. It's clean, too. No little handprints on the mirror. Hubby hasn't left the newspaper by the shitter. Nothing. It's clean.

Did I mention this was an unplanned visit? Then back to the downstairs. The family room has a few toys neatly put away. The kitchen doesn't have any dirty dishes. No nasty food dried to the floor. It's clean, and did I mention this was an unplanned visit?

I went home, shuddering as I entered the family room, with a floor so littered with toys and kids clothes that the stained carpet was barely visible. My insides shook as I walked into the kitchen, with a sink full of dirty dishes, and bread crusts still under the table. "I'm a failure" I thought. " can't do this. I would absolutely flourish under the tutelidge of a live in maid. Life isn't fair."

And so for the rest of the evening, and into the next very rainy day I sulked. Barely cleaned a thing. Then in the evening I went to Targhay and found what I was pretty sure would change my life. Itso cubes are these 15x15 white cubes that EASILY hook together in a number of ways. You can also buy all sorts of accessories: extra shelves, bins, doors, casters, etc. So I bought twelve of them, plus a number of accessories. I brought them home and overhauled the playroom. Donated a bunch of toys, threw out a bunch of trash, even scrubbed the floor. Then I placed the Itso cubes neatly in the open door closet. Organized all the toys but function. IT WAS BEAUTIFUL. And so neat, organized, clean.

Then came today, I was going to tackle the messes and the dirt head on. I was optimistic once again. And I tried, lord did I try. But D1 & D2 just loved their new playroom. Loved it so much, they couldn't get enough of it. Or out of it. I don't know how many times I picked up toys and put them back into their designated ITSO cube. Countless times I took toys out of the family room and back to their cozy home. And I did, I tried to pick up all the food from under the table after lunch, and I even cleaned up D1's bedroom. I really, honestly put in a good fight.

So guess what? It's 9:00 pm and their are toys strewn all over the house, dinner debris is all over the kitchen floor and the dishes are piled up in the sink. And I just hate the thought of going back down there and cleaning it ONE MORE TIME. Only to start over again tomorrow.

Playground Politics

2008-09-04T11:10:00.000-07:00

D1 had a rough time socializing - from about 18 months to 30 months she just didn't know how to interact with kids. She would get so excited to see them, desperately want to interact with them, but not quite know how to do it. She would end up hitting, scratching, pushing, etc. She still has it in her, on her bad days. And as all 3 year olds, it especially comes out during the trials of sharing. I thought with a little sister constantly by her side this wouldn't be an issue, but it is.

I had a really hard time with this stage. I felt like I was doing something wrong, or not doing something enough. I felt like other Mom's were judging me, thinking I was a bad Mom. I'd find myself over-reacting to her aggression when we were in public, just trying to prove to other Moms that I was on top of it, and was trying to control the problem. It wasn't fair to D1 and caused a huge amount of anxiety for me. After a few months of this, I found myself avoiding other Mom's and their kids. I would take D1 to playgrounds during times that I knew others were less likely to be there. I stopped going to activities with my MOM's group.

I was broken hearted over the thought that other Mom's in her playgroup (which we became playgroup drop outs over!) were unable to see my child as she really was. I mean, I knew she was this great, creative, funny lovable kid. But could others see it?

Today was a great day spent at the park with my MOM's club. But I still haven't gotten over the apprehension her prior months of aggression started. Sometimes I feel like I won't be a very good advocate for her, if that is ever needed in school or elsewhere. Each time I would hear a child yell or cry, I would check on D1. Not to see if she was ok, but to see if she was the one causing the tears. If she happened to be standing by the crying child, I would automatically wonder "what did she do". Today was a good day, though. To my knowledge she wasn't the cause of one shed tear.

This subject leads me to a topic that my older brother, lets call him OB (it's the way it should be) is actually kind of obsessed with. He has two kids, ages 10 and 8. While in my opinion, they are both great kids with some awesome characteristics, the 10 year old definitely gives my brother more of a run for his money. He's a handful, while the 8 yr old is more laid back and listens to her parents more readily. OB has seen both signs of the coin, and has come to realize that nature has a TON to do with your child's behavior, it's not all just nurture. His obsession lies in the parents who do not have "challenging" children. Now not all parents of easy going kids think this way, but I'm sure some do - they attribute their children's behaviors to their great parenting, and automatically assume the parents of challenging kids are doing something wrong. OB has seen the knowing glances between these "better" parents and wants to scream "it has nothing to do with you!" But where is the line drawn? Where can you say, "hey, she's like that because I taught her that" and give yourself some credit? Personally, I happen to know that my girls positive traits all come from my fabulous parenting. The bad stuff, on the other hand, totally out of my control. It's just the way they are, right?

Next week D1 starts preschool. I'm so mixed with emotions. Sad, because she is growing up and isn't my little baby anymore. Excited because I'll have a few hours just with D2 each week. Hopeful that she will blossom and just love school and learn so much. But I'm also so scared. Will she make friends? Will the kids like her? Will she get overstressed and become too aggressive? Will she listen to the teacher or just spend all her time in the bathroom smearing the hand soap all over the mirror?

You really , truly can't understand the magnitude of parenthood until your entrenched in it, can you?

A True Jen Adventure

2008-08-29T09:07:00.000-07:00

I'm a MORON.

I really am.

This is why I named my blog The Adventures of Jen. Only I should have named it The Adventures of an Idiot or This chick must really have guardian angels watching her ass or The Adventures of a complete klutz or maybe What the hell was I thinking?

I was driving home from my Mom's club meeting - with a detour to Starbucks, of course. Just got off the phone with my Mom a few minutes earlier, so I can't even blame cell phone use on this one.

Anyways, I was heading down the road, approaching some railroad tracks. I notice the blinking lights in front of the tracks and think "shit, a train is coming. I have to stop" so I slam on the brakes. Then I'm sitting there for a few milliseconds thinking "I shouldn't have stopped, I had a minute, and I'm a little too close to the tracks, look the person behind me is way back there. " That's when it happens. I'm watching the little striped barrier coming down. "oh crap, I'm too close" Coming down on my car. My windshield to be exact. "Shit" Said very loudly. D1 starts crying "what is that, what is that" I'm freaking out. I put it in reverse, only to have it hit my front hood. Which if you are wondering, those barriers don't have one of those things like your garage door where it goes back up if it senses something too close below. But, the good news is that it does not come down forcefully. It didn't damage my car at all. Damaged my self-esteem, but not the car. (Had to add that in case hubby reads this - yes, car is fine)

The woman behind me followed me for about a mile, through several turns even. I wonder if it was to make sure she had my tag #, to have the proper info to provide the authorities. "that woman should not be allowed to drive with children in a car!"

So there it is. A Jen Adventure.

A Flood

2008-08-28T17:08:00.000-07:00

I almost lost it today. Seriously. D1 is REALLY pushing me. I really thought I was going to lose it on her. Had to make her leave the room, had to walk out of the room myself, before I :

A. Left the house and drove straight to Vegas, never to be seen from again.

B. Let loose a verbal assault that would lead to a good 5 years of therapy for us both.

Maybe I'm over-reacting. Maybe it's hormones ( I really, really hate it when people say that, though). Perhaps I just need a better sense of humor. Or maybe it's just as I've outlined in previous posts: I'm sick of cleaning up the freakin' messes.

This morning I put D2 down for her nap. Then stayed upstairs for 5-10 minutes picking up some things and mentally organizing my day. My parents were coming up in about an hour, in the evening my Mother's helper was coming over. Not having cleaned(what's new?), I was trying to mentally prioritize - "ok, who cares about mopping the floor and the handprints on the windows, I'll just clean the powder room, wash some dishes and maybe vacuum the family room."

As I'm upstairs I can hear D1 playing at the sink. Not something I like, but whatever, not worth running downstairs immediately for, I can stop her as soon as I get down there. WRONG.

I walk downstairs. She's on the couch in the family room, leaning through the cut out window that looks into the kitchen - and is directly at the sink. She has the rinsing hose in her hand. The kitchen is a lake. IT IS SOAKED. I'm not talking a few streaks of water. I'm talking serious water. HOMES comes to mind. Lake Huron is on the floor in front of the sink. Ontario is on the other side of the island, Michigan is under the table, Erie is on top of the table and Lake Superior is on the stove. I had the god forsaken Great Lakes in my kitchen. Water was dripping from the ceiling, running down the cherry cabinets. My toaster oven no longer lit up and smelled like it was burning - obviously now fried. The paper work on the desk was a big ink slurred mess.

I was pissed.

"D1 go upstairs. NOW" I had to walk out of the room myself. Call my Mom and freak out on her. Call my husband and freak out on him.

It took 5 jumbo beach towels, 3 large bath towels and 8 dish cloths to soak up the mess. And all of the towels were drenched. I still haven't gone down to the basement to see if any water damage hit the ceiling above the kitchen. I just don't want to know.

As I was cleaning up the mess, D1 came downstairs, her head held low.
"Mommy, I want to tell you somethin"
"Yes, D1"
"I sorry"
"Ok, D1, but can you tell me why you are sorry"
"Yes, Mommy. I sorry cause I want to come downstairs now"

Preschool starts in 12 days. Not that I'm counting.

Mommy Tantrum

2008-08-21T07:03:00.001-07:00

So yesterday's post was not a healthy one for me. I kept going back to it, and re-reading the list of things D1 did. It got me all riled up. It served up a good ol' dose of self righteousness. No wonder I can't get anything done! That's why my house is always a mess! I can't even paint my foyer in an acceptable time frame! I can't even take a few minutes for myself! Ever! I can't put makeup on because she ruined it all! You get the idea.

Then in the late evening it turned into guilt. I must not spend enough time with her. How did she have all this time to do these things, anyways? I don't engage her in enough interesting activities. I let her watch too much tv. She's not eating healthy enough. She's jealous of her sister. I must not be giving her enough one on one time. It's obviously all my fault, and I even posted it for the world to see, and they will all plainly see it's my fault. I must be a bad Mom.

Sighhhhhh........

fluids, fluids everywhere, and I need a drink

2008-08-20T03:48:00.001-07:00

I'm amazed when I visit other Mom's houses and see so much not baby proofed. Or rather pre-schooler proofed. Lotions out in plain sight, dish liquid next to the sink, hand soap actually left out in the powder room. Craft supplies left in an accessible place. I stand in awe of such things. Why? Well, let's just use the last month as an example.

In the last month, D1 has:

- poured laundry detergent all over our luggage for vacation
- sprayed sunblock on the grill
- sprayed sunblock on friend's grill (what's up with that, btw? why grills?)
- smeared chapstick on back of computer desk chair
- rubbed hand soap onto self,bathroom vanity and floor (twice, two different bathrooms)
- colored my bathroom walls with lipgloss
- gobbed butter onto kitchen cabinets
- colored on family room, dining room and kitchen walls
- applied entire tube of favorite lipstick onto self, lovey, sister, sister's lovey, washing machine and laundry room floor (my personal favorite)
- poured coveted half n half into hubby's used scotch glass
- emptied entire contents of jasmine scented baby powder all over her room
- opened a large herbal sachet over toddler bed

I'm not making this up, and I know there have been more, I'm just blocking them out for sanity reasons. And these have occurred with zealous baby proofing methods. Of course, the methods have gotten stricter as more infractions have occurred. So yes, if you happen to use the powder room in my home, you will have to ask for the hand soap. And yes, I no longer carry my favorite lipstick in my purse(for many reasons, but the main being that I have to buy a new tube). How do I stop this? D1 has supervised craft times almost every day. We paint, color with crayons, markers and chalk. We use glue and stickers. We have a water table where she can pour and dump water to her heart's content. It's obviously not enough. Please, readers, I will try any suggestions!

I try to think how this will translate into her adult self. How can she funnel this obsession with fluids and semi-solids into a profession that she will find rewarding? A chemical engineer that comes up with new paint colors for Sherwin-Williams? Product development for Maybelline? I'm most convinced that it will be mixed media artist. I can see the reviews now " the latest installment from artist D1 is a statement on anti-domesticity. She masterfully mixes detergent, soap, and cosmetics with acrylic paints to bring the wall sized canvases to life. They scream "no" to the perils of suburban living!"

Or maybe this is a gift to me. Perhaps she is training me for my next career. Am I meant to become the next guru of stain removal? The goddess of stain-free carpeting?

Only time will tell, but for now, I'm thankful gin & tonics are clear in color.

My weekend

2008-08-17T15:18:00.000-07:00

My college friend did not come this weekend. She called on Wednesday to give me the news. A close friend of hers daughter passed away. She was born with a genetic disorder that claimed her life after 10 short years. The funeral would be on Saturday, so my friend would not be able to come for the weekend.
There is just something about Motherhood. The moment you give birth, or perhaps the moment you hold your little one in your arms, immediately initiates you into a lifetime membership of caring. As someone once said, of wearing your heart on your sleeve. My heart broke for the Mother who just lost her daughter, tears came streaming down my face as my friend told me how she was unable to let her go, rocking her for more than an hour after her death. How she would not allow her to be carried out on the gurney, carrying her instead. I'm crying now, as I type this.
My brother and his wife just had their first baby last week. I was discussing with my sister how he has now become initiated. How you can not explain to someone without a child the instant, fierce love. The falling in love. And the forever caring. The un-initiated could never understand.

Old Friends

2008-08-13T10:51:00.000-07:00

As I've been saying, I've really been missing my girlfriends lately. So you can certainly understand how excited I am for this weekend. An old college friend is coming for a visit all the way from Pittsburgh, Pa. She is bringing her husband, 11 yr old daughter and 4 year old son. It really hit home last week just how lonely I was getting when I realized that in my free time I've been fantasizing over the conversations we would have. Yes, I could fantasize about the hotty at the farmers market, but instead, I'm dreaming of juicy gossip. She is just one of my very favorite people in the whole world; sarcastic, self deprecating and intelligent. Her house may always be clean, and she may always wear a size four, but I just adore her. In order to maximize our conversation potential, and make sure it is a true (much needed!) gab fest, I've decided to make an agenda for conversations to be covered:

- amount of wrinkles and other ageing signs that are kicking us in the arse.
- our inability to lose weight (she doesn't need to, but I still like to hear how she thinks she does)
- food, and how much we love it. specifically chocolate.
- compare and contrast our husbands annoying habits
- our mutual friends love lives and children
- college days and the amount of beer we drank
- the amount of coffee we now drink
- how long it's been since we went out without our kids
- the sad thing that has happened to our breasts since nursing our children (this will probably result in an actual comparison if we manage to drink too much)
- latest embarrassing events - my intoxicated christmas, and her whatever, and what I really love is if she doesn't have one, once she drinks too much, she may just make one up
- the bad tv shows we secretly watch
- family politics

I can't wait!

Sex in the City, Part II

2008-08-13T10:43:00.000-07:00

I'm so excited. A member of the Mom's club I've joined called me last night. Her parents have her kids, and she wanted a night out. She found out that Sex in the City is playing in a theater in Emmaus. Would I like to join her? (hmmm.... did she read my blog??) Of course I would!
The theater is one of those small, old fashioned, Main st type theaters. The kind that only plays second runs - you know, when the movie has gone out of most theaters, they pick it up. So I'm sure Carrie would liken it to buying last season's couture in a consignment shop, but I don't care. I'm actually going to see it before it hits Netflix. Plus, admission is only $3 - I'll have enough left over to even buy a box of Goobers!

The Divine Intervention Needed to get my house Semi-Clean

2008-08-12T07:01:00.000-07:00

I haven't told you about the day The Great Divine rang my doorbell. Instead of the usual ding dong, I heard a glorious orchestra and a beam of light came shining through my door.

It was my neighbor. The mother of an 11 yr old girl. She came to ask if I would be interested in having a little help this summer. Hmmm..... there goes that music again... aaaahhhh ahhhhhh.... "Would I be interested in having her daughter come over once a week as a Mother's Helper" aaaaahhhhhh ahhhhhhhh........ squinting through the tears and the ray of sunshine at her back, I replied "yes, that would be great" then this gift from up above adds " and I don't want you to pay her, I would like it to simply be a lesson in responsibility" aaaaaahhhhh ahhhhhhh. I think she thought I was a little creepy when I started kissing her feet, but still she kept to her word, and her daughter has been coming over every Tuesday morning for 3 hours. 3 amazing, soul feeding hours. Ok, not that soul feeding, I usually just end up folding laundry and cleaning my own bedroom. But still, I fold and clean with out a child undoing everything do, and I usually get to watch a talk show or other mindless dribble that isn't a cartoon. Very exciting in this little world of mine.

Here's the kind of funny part, though. I think my dear little helper is a bit of a germ phobe. That, or the filth of my house has propelled an otherwise normal 11 year old into an obsessive hand washer. So each Tuesday morning, I wake up a little earlier than usual to clean the downstairs (oh, please, you didn't think I would do the entire house, did you?). All the toys get put away, the floors get vacuumed, and if I don't have time to mop, I at least try to get some of the dried food off the kitchen floor. I even wipe off the table. But she's still constantly washing her hands. And I'm deeply effected by the fact that an 11 year olds opinion of my cleaning abilities actually matter. I wonder what she goes home to tell her Mom. Perhaps next year she'll volunteer her son to come over and clean my house once a week, you know, to teach him some responsibility.

Soon the summer will end, Tuesdays will return to simply being the second day of the work week and my house will once again be dirty on this day. Summer is such a fleeting time......

Adjusting to our move

2008-08-05T11:11:00.000-07:00

Most days I look on our move as a fun adventure. It's been interesting getting to know the area, and finding ways to meet people. But lately I've just been missing my girlfriends. I want an evening out with a little too much wine, and way too much gossip. Some giggles, cattiness and letting loose. I just miss my girls.

So I had a sudden great idea. I'll come up with a girls night. I REALLY wanted to see Sex in the City when it came out. But I didn't want to go by myself, and I didn' t know of anyone who also wanted to see it. Anyone that lived within a 20 mile radius, that is. My friends in NJ all went to see it. So I thought I'd send out an email to the Mom's Club I've joined, and see if I could arrange for a MOM's night out. Maybe afterwards we could even go out for a drink. How exciting does that sound? Hee hee!

But now I feel like a total loser. Sex in the City is no longer in theaters. How long has it been? Somehow missing the loop on that makes me feel so lame. The show that made hipness accessible to all and I missed out on it.

I'm going downstairs and eating too much chocolate.

Back Again and Potty Training

2008-08-04T19:05:00.000-07:00

We spent a week away on vacation. Every year we go to Rehoboth Beach with my family. I've always enjoyed it, but since having kids, I really appreciate it since everyone helps out with the kids. It gives hubby and I a little more of a break. But then our first week back was challenging because D1 was used to being amused 24/7 by Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles and cousins. So last week she was up my you know what most of the time. I wasn't able to sneeze, let alone find some time for myself. This week is much better, though. I've been able to sneeze twice today.

We've been working on Potty Training big time. So far not much success. On Friday I took D1 to the Dollar Store and let her pick out a bunch of crap for prizes. We put stickers on her potty chart - 1 sticker for a pee, and 2 for a poop. Three stickers equal a prize. Today she peed on the potty twice. But no poo. In fact, very funny, she was so determined to poop today that she actually fell asleep on her potty. Bent over, leaning on her pink super ball. I kept thinking of myself, in labor, holding on to my birthing ball.

We have a time line for this potty training. The first month's tuition is due for her Preschool by the 15th - even though she won't start till Sept 15th. Kind of annoying, actually. I'm starting to think that it just isn't going to happen. Trying to come up with alternate plans to keep the girls occupied. But God, I really wanted the time to myself! D2 still naps in the morning, so I would have had at least a good hour two days a week to myself. The things I can do with that time!

Ickkkk

2008-07-18T09:23:00.000-07:00

I hate cleaning. In fact, I could confidently say that it's the #1 thing I dislike about staying home. The need to clean is just always in your face.

Therefore, the frequency in which I change my daughter's toddler bed is pretty sad. But since the appearance of a strange, pinkish stain on her bed earlier in the week, I've felt the need to do it. So yes, even with strange stain, it took me about 4 days to get around to it.

This is what I found in her small, converted crib, 3-sided toddler bed:

- two stains, one with unindentifiable dried on crumbs
- 12 books
-3 stuffed animals
-4 blankets
-2 pillows
- sippy cup with curdled milk
- pen
-small plastic bag with following message: "warning: to avoid danger of suffocation, keep away from babies and children. Do not use in cribs, beds, carriages or play pens." Good to know.

Hmmm... and I wonder why she's been coming into our room 10 times a night?

In Over My Head

2008-07-17T12:40:00.000-07:00

Somedays I just feel so in over my head. My daughters are "spirited". IE, they are nuts. active, into everything, destructive, inventive, curious, mean, loving. Yes, all of the above. On days when all those adjectives are turned into verbs coming at me all at once; I'm just in this way, way over my head.
The last 90 minutes kind of play out like this: The girls are eating lunch, so I sneak outside to get our pool bag from the purse, D #1 comes running out after me, now she's poking through her daddy's things in the garage.
"D#1, come inside."

"come inside"

"please, come inside"

"sigh" And I pick her up and in we go.

As I walk in, the phone is ringing, D2 is standing up in her high chair.

"D2, sit down"

"On, your bum"

"Down"

"Sigh" and I pick her up and put her down on the floor.

As I'm talking to a new friend, I turn around in the kitchen and see that D1 has emptied the contents of my pool bag onto the floor.

"sigh"

"D1, please come back here and clean up this mess"

Still chatting (selfish me, trying to speak to another adult for 5 mins)

I walk into family room.

"D1! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!! THE SUNTAN LOTION IS NOT FOR YOU TO PLAY WITH!"

"D1, STOP! STOP RUBBING IT ON THE FIREPLACE!!!"

And phone conversation is abruptly cut short.

"D1, Time out. Don't leave the step till I say"

"ok, Mommy"

30 seconds later: "D1, I said not to leave the step"

"ok, Mommy"

"D1, Do you want to go to the pool?"

"Yes, Mama"

"then stay on this step till Mommy says it's time to get up"

"yes. Mama"

"D1, why did you leave the step? Now we can't go to the pool"

"sorry, Mama"

So crap, that didn't work. And now what the hell are we going to do? Alright, where did I put those water paints?

"D2, get off the steps, come follow Mommy"

"D2, off the steps"

"Off the steps"

Here they are!

"off with all your clothes, we are going to paint!"

"D1, don't put the paint on your sister"

"D1, you got paint in her eye!"

"D2, off the steps"

"D2, come lets paint"

"off the steps"

"D1, why did you paint all over your body?"

"Ok, time for a bath!"

"D1, stop turning the water to hot"

"D2, let me take off your diaper"

"Shit! Poo!"

"D1, I need wipes"

"please, hurry, I need the wipes"

"thank you"

"ok, wait, Mommy needs to add some cold water"

"wait"

"Please, wait"

"wait"

"ok, nows ok"

"D1, don't push your sister"

"D2, water stays inside the tub"

"in the tub"

"ok, give me the cup"

"D2, I mean D1, stop splashing your sister"

"D1, stop splashing so hard"

"D2, keep the water in the tub"

"in the tub"

"stop hitting your sister"

"stop"

"stop it!"

"ok, time to get out!"

"wait, mommy has to give you towel"

"wait, you're getting water all over the floor"

"let Mommy put a diaper on"

"sit still"

ahhhh..... I'm in so deep, glub glub glub!!!!

More thoughts on landing in the Lehigh Valley

2008-07-16T09:17:00.001-07:00

"And all my friends have settled down, become their Mothers and Fathers without a
sound" From the song "A Horse in the Country" by the Cowboy Junkies

That lyric keeps going through my head again and again. Why? Well, I absolutely love my new house - it's a wonderful layout and lots of space. My neighborhood is beautiful with lots of mature trees and very quiet. But it's all so suburban. Don't get me wrong, my last town, Somerville, wasn't exactly living in the fast lane. But where I've landed reminds me soooo much of the town I grew up in, and this house is, as my sister said when she first saw it, "a grown-ups house" the neighborhood is full of mature adults rearing responsible children. It's all so, so suburban I guess. My life is becoming way more "domesticated" than I ever thought it would be. Mama extraordinaire. Wake up, clean the house, make breakfast, lunch, dinner, cut coupons, plan meals, take the kids to the community pool. It's what I wanted, space to breathe, a slow pace, predictability. But I'm afraid, too. Afraid my personality and eccentricities will be put on a shelf somewhere and forgotten. Gathering dust till I'm 50 or 60 and finally lose my mind and end up running down the street singing "Raspberry Beret" wearing nothing but my bra and panties and the beret I kept from college.

Is there room for all of me in this suburban development? It's a fight, I think, a fight to keep me out and about. Boy, my husband, the happy Chameleon, won't like it when I start waving my freak flag, but out it must go!

"She wore a Raspberry Beret, the kind you find in a second hand store...." by Prince, of course

awkward moment

2008-07-15T18:53:00.000-07:00

Am I a bad Mom? My 3 yr old isn't big on naps anymore. She'll take one maybe once every 4 or 5 days. But I, I love nap time. It's my only time alone. So I let her lay in my bed for one to two hours and watch cartooons. Today I left her to watch PBS while I wrote some emails and checked out Facebook. I was probably locked in the spare bedroom at my desk for about an hour. I could hear drawers opening and closing and other mysterious sounds, but I ignored them.

Then came check in time. What could she be doing? I walked in to see my husbands socks all over the floor and my innocent 3 year old holding a condom. Yes, a rubber was in her hand - the packaging on the floor. Actually, on the floor were several opened packages and it's prior occupants. Oh god, and several more strewn across our bed.

It was all I could do not to laugh, and tell her she needs to respect Daddy's privacy and not go through his drawers.

Definitely time I made a decision on a new form of birth control........

How I landed in The Lehigh Valley

2008-07-15T11:46:00.001-07:00

I feel the need to back-track today. My blog states that I'm a relocated Mama finding my way in the Lehigh Valley, yet I don't think I've explained that very well. I actually grew up in PA. I was born in Luzerne County, PA - coal mining country. But I spent most of my early years in a suburb of Harrisburg - for those of you familiar with the area, "the west shore". I went to college at IUP - which is in a very small town outside of Pittsburgh, Pa. There I met my husband. After graduation, we moved to Staten Island. The armpit of NYC. That is truly where my adventures, or rather, mis-adventures began. A sheltered suburbanite has no place in Staten Island. After 4 tremendous years in SI, we bought our first house and moved to Somerville, NJ. We lived here for close to 7 years. Moved in just before 9/11. Somerville was very charming to me - a small town, with the hipness of a revitalized mainstreet, close enough to the city to have a clue. Everything was within walking distance. It was a town that I felt at home in. We bought a very old fixer-upper in the middle of the enormous real estate boom. Threw tons of cash into the place, and after two kids quickly out grew it's small size. But as many a New Jerseyan can tell you, there was no way we could trade up and stay in NJ. Homes cost a fortune, and the taxes are just ridiculous. So we did what many before us have done - we moved to PA! My husbands job is just along the border of Pa & NJ, so the commute would actually improve for him. We sold our NJ home for almost double of what we bought it for, and purchased a sickeningly suburban home in Lehigh County. We paid 20K more for this house than what we sold our old house for, but more than doubled our square footage. We're adjusting, and liking it, so far. I'm taking baby steps into meeting new people - joined a MOM's club, but honestly haven't done much with them. Not sure what sort of people I want to meet, hoping some like minded people will simply pop out of the woodwork!

The Wedding

2008-07-08T11:05:00.000-07:00

So this is going to be a very self-indulgent, one sided view of my brother in law's wedding.

Daughter #1 was one of three flower girls. And as an absolute, unbiased truth, she was the most adorable of them all. Really, she was!

She was the youngest, but also the most beautiful. What stole my heart, though, was that she honestly danced the night away. In the middle of a huge drunken group, my little girl clapped, rolled and boogied. At the end of the evening, she was a picture of innocence, half-asleep in her Daddy's arms as they slow danced.

The reception itself was an absolute blast. I have only seen my husband that intoxicated maybe one other time (that of course is not to say that he hasn't been that drunk in my presence more than once, but only twice have I been more sober...) In his striped seersucker suit, he would have looked like quite the gentleman, if he hadn't been two fisting it all night. Yes, a gin and tonic does pair perfectly well with a Brooklyn Lager. And yes, he did commit the perfect party foul by dropping one of those G&T's on the dance floor. :)

As for me, I dealt with wardrobe malfunctions all night. You can dress the girls up, but you just can't take them out. I can't wait to see the photos of them peaking out! Oh boy! (or rather, Oh Girls!)

My favorite part of the evening was the ladies room. I have never been at a wedding with so many drunk chicks! I think they out-did the drunk guys. It was refreshing to be one of the more together gals at the event. Although my husband informs me that it's because we're old. Oh well.

All in all, it was a great evening, and I wish the couple much love and success in their future together!

In and Out

2008-07-01T07:01:00.000-07:00

I get so excited about new ideas. Then they fade or life hits me up with a bump or two, and I abandon them. Like this blog. It's in the back of my mind all the time, yet it's been two months since I posted. What have I been up to? A few bumps, definitely. First, my computer crashed and took several weeks to be repaired and put back together. During that time, I only had access to my hubbys laptop in the evenings. Not really when I feel like posting anything. Besides, it's amazingly sloooooow. Oh, and the big bump - I fractured my foot. Yes, in an amazing adventure I managed to fracture it in two places and also sprain my ankle. Ok, so it really wasn't an amazing adventure. It was actually quite dull, and yet quite typical of me. I was walking down the steps to make the baby a bottle and put her down for a nap. On the fourth step from the bottom, my daughter had left a flip flop. I tripped over it, twisting my ankle and falling down the remainder of the steps. The scene at the bottom was kind of amusing. I was crying, rocking my foot back and forth. It scared my eldest daughter, so she was with me, kissing my foot and sobbing. Then a long comes daughter #2, laughing. She sits on my leg, bouncing up and down, laughing and kissing me.
Needless to say, I made out pretty well. I was only given a hideously ugly velcro sneaker to wear, and was sent home with crutches. Crutches, by the way, made me feel extremely old. Remember when you were young, crutches seemed so cool. I remember being envious of friends who had to use them. I was never lucky enough to break something and be able to use them. Not until I was 33 that is. 33 and completely out of shape! I had no idea the physical exertion required to get around on them. It was horrendous.

So that's my story. And that's where I've been.

Where I'm going is to the Jersey Shore for the weekend. My brother in law is getting married on Sandy Hook on the 4th of July. I'll be sure to report back on that one. Daughter #1 is the flower girl. How will she act? Yet another source of anxiety.....

Who is in there?

2008-04-23T12:09:00.001-07:00

Nine years ago, when I started my job as Assistant buyer at Aigner, I was asked to write a profile of myself to be published in the quarterly newsletter. Upon publication the catty SHE in the cubicle next to mine commented “you sure have a lot to say about yourself”. Well, of course I did, I was 24, newly married, had a huge disposable income and lots of time on my hands. I had hobbies, interests and things to do! Fast forward nine years and 2 kids later. I’m filling out the application for the Local MOM”s club. The bottom line asks about your hobbies and activities. My mind draws a blank. Hobbies? Interests? Does researching online what will take poo stains off the carpet count? Well, I used to….. but now I….. well, crap. I drink coffee. A lot. Does that count as an interest? So I lied. I put down the things I used to do, or put money into starting and never did.
I wrote: reading (still true, just happens that my most read author at the moment is Sandra Boynton), yoga (well, I used to love it, and I did buy that new DVD that I’m sure I’ll start doing any day now), cooking (finding ways to hide veggies in meals is certainly a creative outlet!) and scrapbooking (the $300 dollars worth of supplies my Mom bought me has to be good for something!)

Am I becoming one of those women? You know the ones. The ones who have no true identity other than their kids? Can’t be. I’m in here somewhere. I just have to scrape off the food stains, and wash my hair. I’m still here! I promise, here and now. I’m starting again. Taking control of me, making time to pursue my own interest. Hear me roar! Well, hear me roar tomorrow, if I get a good nights rest. I swear.

My Mission Statement, sort of

2008-04-22T12:33:00.000-07:00

Just do it. Right? I should be a writer, a writer, a writer. Hmmmm… a writer needs to write. Just do it… I need a mission statement what should it be? To make money. To feel like I’m contributing to the world as a whole. Oh let’s get sappy here. I’m raising two strong, fierce girls. I AM CONTRIBUTING. But I need more. Cash. Can I make money with this blog thing? Well, let’s see. What am I going to write about. ME!!! Then I should define myself. Ideas. I’m very good at ideas. I get very excited about ideas. This blogging thing for instance. How long will it last? Perhaps a little longer than a lot of my ideas. Perhaps I’ll even start it. Instead of thinking about it. Did I mention that I have lofty ideas that I never put into motion? Oh, and the procrastination. It’s tough, too. Me. Defined. Procrastinator, on again off again environmentally conscious, frugally living, hip mama. I can give you tips on lots of things. Things that I do. Sometimes. And then I’ll confess. I go through long periods of total inactivity. Long periods of drinking too much coffee and watching my little ones trash our house. Then up I go. Off on another tangent. Are you there too?