Tuesday, March 31, 2009
MooshyAgain: Michigan (where we are going this weekend for a little trip).
It Sunny Days: What a nice day!
A Digger: Answer to any "what do you want" question. For example: What do you want for lunch? A DIGGER!
Bent Wee: Our dog, Bentley.
Miss-B-Oookie: Our other dog, most often called MissyBellaYuki.
Dog Dog: Hot dog.
Its Good Morning time: Good morning.
I got my dress on: I am dressed (and no, he doesn't really wear dresses... this applies to any and all pieces of clothing he is wearing).
Spider Pie: Any pretend food he pretend gives you when he wakes up from a nap and for some reason hallucinates that his bunk bed is a grocery store that only sells spider pies.
Wanna have sleepover: I have no interest in sleeping in my own bed tonight, so scoot over Dad, I am coming in.
Wanna make with me: Can I help you cook dinner?
My tummy says rumble, rumble: I am hungry.
Tab-Ah: Tabbi, I am sick of calling your name and this time I mean it.
NNNNNOOOOOOOOOO: Response to anything that he has not decided to do on his own, as in going pee pee in the potty, taking a nap, going to bed, picking up toys, stop banging on the computer, stop hitting his brother, stop climbing into the fridge, stop dumping food out of the pantry, etc.
This concludes the first lesson on Wilbanese. The next lesson will cover such things as "Read me story: Tell me a story and make it good or I will make you do it 100 times" and "Squitoes: Any bug that comes anywhere near him and may or may not bite him with uber poisonous, radioactive toxins."
Monday, March 30, 2009
Jack had some sort of shaking incident on Saturday night. (This is not to be confused with Bentley’s shaky head incidents of the past caused by eating cat or goose poop. I am pretty sure Jack didn’t consume poop of any kind). I was holding Jack and suddenly his whole body started convulsing in these big violent movements. His eyelids parted and you could see his eyes had rolled back in his head. He wouldn’t hold his head up on his own and his tongue stuck out like it was too big for his mouth. It lasted about a minute, maybe a minute and a half, and then he was just as suddenly back asleep. Scared the crap out of me (figuratively, of course. Although, I did have to go number two before we went to the ER, so maybe it is literal).
All we know now is that they think that it was just a physical response to his sleep, like a nightmare or something. The doctor (McBuffy) said that a true seizure wouldn’t end like that, so we are in the clear (most likely). But, we are to go to the pediatrician tomorrow so they can determine if we need to run any tests.
But here is the moral of my story. I learned that nothing in the world is more frightening than having a child. I didn’t know that until then. It was my first trip to the ER with my baby. And when you are at the ER, it doesn’t matter if you’re with an infant or a 29 year old kid… it is still your baby. Jack (who is a baby anyway) was so small there. And he ain’t small. But the fears that run through your head… the what ifs… make him infinitely smaller and weaker than he was before the shaking started. While we sat there (a relatively short time in ER world), I wondered about the other people with their kids. Are they coming here for help, only to find out bad news? Were we? Was a normal day going to turn out to be the day we found out Jack had cancer, head trauma, disease, illness, insert every parent’s nightmare here. Is this the worst day of our lives? Or… is it for the parent in the next cubicle over? We were all total strangers unified in our panic over these little creatures that we choose to have, not knowing that the peaceful existence that we had carved out for ourselves is permanently over. Each parent in that hospital was interchangeable… each one praying silent prayers that they wouldn’t be the one that got the bad news that night.
In our case, we got the news we wanted. Nothing was wrong and we were the panicky parents that came to the ER for no reason. Thank you, God, I’ll take that title any day.
Friday, March 27, 2009
That statement has been hanging around in my brain since I read it, and you know what... that is so true. I could sit here and compare myself to my friends, relatives, neighbors, other bloggers, and people I don't even know and you know what... in some category or another I will always fall short. I don't have the great job that Homa has and I don't have the great pool that Lori and Jo have and I don't have the fantastic baby chicks that Laura has. I am not an uber popular blogger like Moosh in Indy or the other bloggers that I follow. But, there are people that have less than me, too. Moosh in Indy's writer is desperate to have another child but struggling, and in that realm, she could envy me. I got pregnant with Jack when I was ON BIRTH CONTROL. There is no doubt that I could have a gaggle if I wanted to. (How many is that, so I know if I get there?) But, her blog will always be better than mine.
So, I sat there and wrote out all the things that I fall short on, but I bet there are things that I am good at, too. I would guess I am better at some stuff than other people are (and when I come up with something, I will let you know). So, a little perspective and suddenly life seems a whole lot easier. Or, I could follow her other gem of wisdom, "surround yourselves with losers to make yourself feel better." Actually, that might be the better plan after all!!!!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Then it became some sort of ET-esque moment that works much better when the other creature has a finger to point back to you . (And ignore the hair and dirty finger, please. Its just the polite thing to do).
At least my kid didn't use a baby chick to fulfill some sort of pirate fantasy!
Don't be too impressed... just because it has feathers like a parrot and will sit on a shoulder like a parrot, doesn't mean this chick talked like a parrot. If it did, it would be screaming "GET ME OFF THIS SHOULDER OR WE'RE GOING TO HAVE A CHICKEN DOWN SITUATION!!!!"
In the end, Will and the chickens became fast friends. Insert "awwwws" here.
And, in case the Will + Chick = Love picture didn't get enough awwws, let's just throw a picture of fat Jack in there for good measure.
No chicks were involved with this picture, or baby Jack in general in fear that he would eat them. And not in a "toddlers put everything in their mouth" kinda way, but in a "look at the size of this kid... he could eat a horse, let alone a walking chicken nugget" kinda way.
Is it just me or do you have the overwhelming need to sigh and say "Awwwwwwww?"
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
1. I am wearing my least favorite jamas (still and its 9:41a). The shirt is not as baggy/comfy as I would like (clearly it has shrunk... it can't be that I have grown) and the glaring florescent pink color is just about enough to make me puke.
2. Seriously, Will. I realize that I told you last Friday that Laura is coming on Wednesday and bringing her baby chicks (they aren't hers biologically, FYI, just from her hens). I know that was a mistake to tell a toddler that something is happening in the future...but come on. It is possible to go 30 seconds without asking "Is Waura coming over?" NOT UNTIL TOMORROW!!!!
3. Jack... king of poop. I know that poopy diaper is worse on you than it is on me... but let's try and go an hour without one? Ok? I have gotten to the point that all I smell is poop. 24/7. Baby poop. (And for the record, I am spellchecking this at 9:59a and you are poopy... AGAIN!!!)
4. MissyBellaYuki. You're a lovely dog. Calm. Independent. Loving. But, my God in Heaven. THAT HAIR! I cannot stand how my chocolate brown couch is turned to white chocolate every morning! I keep thinking you'll be bald soon, but the hair just keeps coming out!
5. Airtron. Really? You can't narrow down my service call by just a little? It really takes you a five hour window to show up? How 'bout this? I will pay your bill sometime between today and five months from now. You just wait on me, ok?
6. Tabbi. That is all I am going to say about that one. When I think about yesterday's debacle, the four letter words spring up a little too freely, and this is a family blog. Ok, I wouldn't really let children read it, but I still will just move on to number 7.
7. My fridge is packed. My pantry is packed. My stand up freezer in the garage is packed. But... I have nothing to eat. Yes... I am an adult version of that kid. Pounds of food and nothing to eat.
8. Mirrors are my nemesis. I look in them and want to do a jack knife into an empty pool. Ugh! Did I say pool, because my neighbor opens hers soon and that means swimsuits and I look like a beached whale. A gray one, because my hair dye that I bought about a month ago is still on the top of the fridge instead of in my hair covering my premature gray that used to be a streak and is now more giant chunk than streak. See numbers two through six for explanation on how that happened!!! And did I mention that I am fat? Yeah, I tend to forget too, until I look in those damn mirrors.
9. Facebook. I need to stop. I check it. All. The. Time. I get sad when I have no new friends, comments or messages... like someone's Facebook page is the barometer of their self worth. I have 55 friends on Facebook. That is probably 50 more than I have in the real world, but some of my friends have like hundreds of friends. So clearly, I am a Facebook loser. Then, I read on my opening page what my friends are saying to other friends and that opens a whole new can of worms. Why are they doing something without me? Why are their "what I'm doing nows" always funnier than mine? Why is Facebook an extension of high school and I am the kid with lipstick on her teeth, standing in the corner picking my nose and wondering why the popular kids won't hang with me.
10. I have a case of the "I wants" and I can't seem to get over it. I want a patio out back that is bigger than a bread box. I want a new computer. I want to be a popular blogger like some that I read. I want a vacation (but I hate to travel, go figure). I want to go take a shower. I want to paint my house. I want new furniture. I want a bigger house. I want new shoes. I want a summer wardrobe that fits, makes me look thinner, and I don't want to go shopping to get it. I want Will to just do what he's told. I want Tabbi to do what she's told. I want the economic crisis to be over so we don't have to worry about people losing jobs and insurance and homes. I want my minivan to fit in the garage and I don't want to have to clean the garage to do it. And my guess is that the only thing on this list that I will get is the shower. And even that is iffy!
Monday, March 23, 2009
I don't know if its biological or emotional, but recently I have been feeling the desire to have one more kid (and by have one more I mean get pregnant in two years and guarantee that its a girl). I know, everyone who knows me is like "WHOA? DO YOU NOT READ YOUR BLOG?!?!?!" but mental breakdowns aside, I feel the yearning for a little girl. I have my beautiful (and by beautiful I mean bouncing off the walls) boys, but I see little girls on TV and little girl clothes and hear about little girl activities and I want that. And, I have Tabbi, but its just not the same. (Insert snide comment about how that is my fault here.) I didn't have her at birth and she doesn't do the little girly activities that I long for. Plus, we just don't get along most of the time. And I can't help but feel like inheriting her (which was mostly my idea and I still know was the right thing to do) has taken my option of one more out of the equation without my permission. So, as far as I can tell, my options are to try for a little girl or completely confuse one of my boys by forcing them into a gender identity crisis. I want my little baby girl and a room that looks like the Pepto Bismol plant exploded in it.
Then I think to the newborn phase. I hate being up all night. I hate feedings and inconsolable crying. And I think about my current life and how most days I am barely hanging onto sanity by a thread and oh my God, how could I handle another one? But, pink sometimes beats out sleeplessness. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I yearn for the time in life when the kids are more independent. Will is going to start preschool in the fall, which means Jack isn't really that far behind. And when both boys are in school, I can decide what I want to be when I grow up (as if there is more to life than spit up and blogging). I could have a career again, and high heel shoes. Sometimes the idea of an adult life wins out. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes the idea of a little Olivia Eleanor or Katheryn Lily does.
So, I read this article devouring the words, waiting for the epiphany at the end to tell me if I really want another or not. Let me share with you the gem of wisdom this article had for me. "How do you know? You know. " Wha huh? You just know? What a load of crap? What if you know this minute while I am typing contentedly on the computer, but then you know something else a minute later when Jack is screaming his fool head off because he doesn't want a nap and Will is shrieking like a mad man because he tripped over Big Red, his stupid, always under foot truck. Then the article said this profound comment "If you don't know... well... that means you're not done." Really? Is this the logic that got Octomom where she is? If you think about having a kid, you better get knocked up ASAP before you use the sense God gave you and decide that is not the best idea.
So, I read my divinely sent article, and I am still lost. The good news is that I don't have to decide today. Mirena commercials say that I can have it removed at any time and still pop out those little poopers. The other thing to consider is that reading this blog entry will undoubtedly give Mark a stroke, which means that I can't have another kid because I am going to run through his life insurance way too quickly as it is... I'd never be able to afford another one.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Lyrics by Bristol Palin
Don’t take your ring away from me
Mommy said we have to marry
If you go then I’m in doo doo
'Cause telling her no is hard to do!
Remember when we made love
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
In honor of him and his family, I am not going to post the silly post I had planned for today. I am, instead, going to be silent in honor of the O'Neill family, who I don't know at all, but touched my heart.
Monday, March 16, 2009
And Laura Ingraham... I am sorry, who are you? Apparently you are such a force to be reckoned with in the political world that you're disagreements with Meghan McCain amounted to "na na na na boo boo" as a comeback. Laura's remark was something along the lines of why should we listen to a woman who could be a plus size model on America's Top Model? I don't know? Why not? Meghan McCain and I don't share political views and if I were to discuss my disagreements, I am pretty sure I wouldn't resort to "Oh yeah? You're republican... well, I say you're fat." And no one pays to listen to my rantings on the radio. Shouldn't we expect a little more from this person who speaks to maybe 10s of people (who clearly aren't very discerning or just happen to be sitting too far away from the dial to turn her off) during her show? Talk about what you disagree with and why, Genius. Are we women really that pathetic that when we disagree the only thing we can do is call each other out on looks?
I sit here and wonder if and when a woman really could be elected president. It won't happen any time soon if we are going to perpetuate the stereotypes that women only care about looks. Let's go ahead and pretend, just for a little while, that two women could disagree and not have to throw poundage into it. Let's act like we could talk about our ideas and their flaws without throwing in arguments about who is uglier. Let's for once in our lives band together and fight the real way... like a man! And before you comment and disagree with me, let me just say this... I am fat and I bet you are cuter than I am. So ha! Took your comments away from you, huh???
Friday, March 13, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
1. If the person sitting at the table looks significantly younger than you, go ahead and assume its the person you are interviewing with. Let's just set the scene so you understand where I am going. Say you are a highly qualified manufacturing plant manager. You are going in for a job interview and at the conference table is a burly, bearded 50 year old male, and a perky, well dressed (ah... the good old days) young woman. Best not to say "Oh, is it take your daughter to work day?" That's going to offend the young woman, who graduated college and worked hard to get to that level so young... and its probably going to offend Mr. Bearded Guy too. Let's face it, he doesn't want to be reminded that he could be his coworker's daddy. Plus, what you might not know is that the young girl liked to remind Mr. Bearded Guy that the year he started working for that organization was the year she was born. He just doesn't want to hear it from you, too.
2. If your brother shot your daddy the day before, go ahead and call to reschedule. Again, let's just say, hypothetically, you really want this job, but you had a personal issue the day before. Typically, I would say buck up and go to the interview. Go ahead and put on a strong face and to quote Tim Gunn, "make it work." But, if you had a family tragedy as big as your brother shooting your father with a shot gun and you are borderline hysterical still... go ahead and pick up that phone and cancel. Your interviewer will understand. What she won't understand is the attempt to go over your culinary training through your blubbering and wailing over your dead father and soon to be imprisoned (once the manhunt is over) brother.
3. Lastly, if you realize that your interviewer might be having an off day, why don't you just pretend not to notice. Just for kicks, let's say that you are interviewing for a manufacturing job and the Plant Manager, Production Supervisor and the HR Employment and Benefits Supervisor are in the room, and its the last interview of the day (after what felt like 5,000) and things have just gotten a little slap happy... just ignore it. Like if the Plant Manager says he is going to give a brief introduction to the operation and it lasts 45 minutes of the hour block of time you've been scheduled for... just let it go. Don't point it out and say "is this an interview or a speech?" And then, when he finally finishes and the HR lady opens her Diet Coke bottle to take a drink before she starts speaking and it explodes everywhere and then she dissolves into fits of giggles because she sprayed the whole room down fireman style (including you), just shake it off and say its ok. Don't ask where you can send your dry cleaning bill. We both know you don't dry clean that polo and jeans combo you wore to the interview. And when you're leaving after we all know you aren't getting the job and quite possibly the three interviewers are losing theirs, don't say "well, this was a waste of time." Trust me, it was way worse for us.
4. This is just a specific tip if you are looking for a job in one the of the fine correctional institutions in this country. Don't walk out onto the yard during your tour when you are surrounded by 100 inmates and ask at the top of your lungs "now, none of these men are violent criminals, right?" You just aren't going to be able to hear the answer through the guffaws coming from the murderers, abusers, and assaulters in the crowd.
5. Lastly, another quick tidbit. When coming into the interview, don't ask "now you don't drug test, right?" when you sit down. Chances are, you're going to be excused right then and there.
Hopefully if any of my readers are looking for jobs now or in the near future, these little tidbits will help!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I am writing to you to let you know that I think your laws suck. I am not sure how you came to be in charge, but I am pretty sure you don't deserve it. You’re no Charles, now are you? But seriously…I don’t remember voting for you. I’ve never heard about the vetting process that put you in power. Have you paid all of your taxes? Really, who appointed your butt???
Specifically, I have the following complaints:
1. When I sweep the floors, it is really necessary for my dogs to track in mud??? I don’t mean ever… obviously floors get dirty. But the second I put the dust pan away, in comes MissyBellaYuki with those HUGE feet and all that black mud. Really? Does it have to be that soon???
2. Maybe just one time, if Jack sleeps unexpectedly late, could Will possibly do the same? I am not sure why one has to wake up at the butt crack of dawn EVERY DAY! Or worse, they both (by the grace of God) sleep in, but I have to be somewhere, so I have to get up and shower instead of bask in the glory of 6 hours of sleep instead of 4.5.
3. This is a big one, Murph. Can I call ya, Murph? Anyway… I never walk around naked. I am a no naked kind of gal. I even leave the room to change clothes when Mark is around. And, unfortunately for him, we have two kids, so I am pretty sure he’s seen it before. But, I am a modest chick. So, why… the one time I run downstairs sans pants (thanks Jack for crying right at that moment.. clearly you and Murphy are conspiring against me) is the one time Mr. TruGreen ChemLawn Hose Jockey is standing right at my front door? I am pretty sure he thinks I am the rudest person on Earth, because I think my cellulite dimpled lily white butt was hidden by the decorative glass (writing thank you note to house builder for putting that door in next), but I know he saw me standing there, so he must still be wondering (hours later) why I didn’t answer the door when he rang the bell, and knocked, and rang the bell, and knocked one more time.
In light of this and all other laws that you have inflicted upon us (please see Alanis Morissette’s Ironic for a full listing), please make like a Hell’s Kitchen chef and piss off.
Monday, March 9, 2009
The situation between Chris and Rihanna is so totally vague that I hate to even speculate (yeah right, I love me some speculation) on what happened. I would guess that they both got violent, and if I had a friend in that situation, I would make it pretty clear that is unacceptable. If you are a chick and you're with a dude that makes you mad enough to abandon all communication skills and resort to violence... the dude ain't your Mister Right. Likewise, if your dude lays a hand on you, provoked or not... dude ain't the man for you. This seems pretty cut and dry to me. There is such a thing as a "deal breaker" in my world, and violence on either person's part has to be it. And if I found out that any of my friends, male or female, was resorting to violence and/or the victim of it... I would get involved.
After our conversation, it got me wondering. What would you do? Am I rare in the fact that I would be involved? I wouldn't head in guns blazing and invite the batterer to take a swing at me... I have three kids to take care of. God knows I can't damn them to a life of delivery pizza and video games if Mark was a widowed dad. But, I would certainly pull up to the curb at 4am, to drive my friend away while the a**hole slept. And, until my friend was ready for that, I would be that bug in your ear every single day until you left saying, "You're too good for this. Don't stay. Go! Go! Go!" I am not sure I would sound as cheerleadery as that looks when typed out, but I'd risk it and say it anyway. So, I pose this question to the masses.... if you had a friend in that situation, would you get involved? Or would you wait til they figured it out themselves?
And while we are on the topic of violence, let me just throw this out there. There is a new blog called Violence Unsilenced at http://violenceunsilenced.com/. This is a forum for victims of domestic violence or other abuse to get their stories out. Victim or not, any reader will be touched by the bravery of these women and applaud the strength that it took to say "I will not be a victim anymore." Just last week a woman posted that she is living with an abusive boyfriend and was trying to get out. Total strangers offered either a place to say, financial assistance, loving support and it is that community-wide action that will make women feel empowered to leave. I highly recommend visiting this site, if for no other reason than just to say that the violence that one in four women suffers should not go silent anymore! We, as a people, are mad as hell and we're not going to take it anymore! See, told you I'd get involved!!!
Friday, March 6, 2009
After rereading this post, I wanted to make specific apologies to two people. Number one is my dear friend Jounice. Jounice has two beautiful twin boys that have special needs, and she's been my friend for years. I can only imagine what she thinks when I use this word in her presence. I have never meant the word as a slam against her wonderful boys, but I am quite sure it hurt nonetheless, and made me a little bit smaller in her eyes every time I used it. For that I am sorry. And, to a reader Karen, who blogs at The Rocking Pony http://therockingpony.blogspot.com/. I read her blog daily, and gobble up the stories of her family, including her son Micah, who in her words is her "gift of Down syndrome." He is a gorgeous boy and I feel so bad that I use a word that he could hear some day and feel hurt by. I don't know him or Karen and more than likely will never meet, but I am sorry for disrespecting Micah when I've used this word. Intentionally or not, it is still disrespectful and a general apology to the world was not enough.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Is this thing on?
I had a day yesterday. And I know, we all have days every day, but I am talking about a day. A DAY, PEOPLE!!! I was up at 7:15, which was late in the scheme of things for me (not as late as I want to sleep, but later than I typically get to), but at 7:45 the Tabbi started. When the Tabbi went to school, the Will took over. And when they say “when there’s a will, there’s a way” I think they meant to say “when there’s a Will, there’s a way to drive you absolutely freakin’ batty.” Love him, mean it… but really. REALLY! His fanny hit the naughty step about 9 times today. Nine times. I said no… he said yes. I said sit down, he stood up. I said don’t shut yourself in the fridge; he said… well, it was muffled by the closed door.
Sometimes, I sit here on days like this and wonder what I am doing wrong. Actually, I don’t wonder. I know. Everything. EVERYTHING! I can’t potty train him… I can’t school and human being train Tabbi. Really… I can’t do any of it. I want to go to bed and wake up when they’re both adults. And don’t even get me started on Jack. The update is that he has stopped crying… but he won’t nap in his crib and he is basically this adorably fat little blank slate that I will undoubtedly turn into the disaster that is the other two. Am I alone in this feeling or can I get an amen? Do we all have days when we sit here and wonder why we had kids and what we are going to do to make sure they aren’t mega failures? Am I destined to be that parent on Super Nanny that the world collectively tsks because she has totally screwed up her kids? Or, am I being too hard on myself (yes, please) because having kids is rough and we all have “those days?”
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
I am writing because I love you. You have made me the happiest person on the planet and I really think that we are meant to be together forever. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
I am following in DeAnna and Jennifer's footsteps a little bit. Since this seems to be a forum to ask for second chances, I thought I better follow suit. I like to call myself a maverick, so following people might not be my first choice, but if Lynn can change her mind and DeAnna can change hers and Jennifer can flip flop hers (and just look at what you did to Melissa on national television last night), I guess its my turn. Remember how I picked that lady Sarah Palin for my running mate? (You think you screwed up with Melissa... don't get me started on this one!!!) I'd like a re-do, Bachelor style. Give me my rose back, Sarah! I think you should be my man, Jason. Let's face it... after what you did to an innocent former cheerleader/wannabe elementary school teacher last night, you can take on the Axis of Evil no problem! If you don't mind the whole runner up/hindsight being 20/20 thing... let's get together! I think you are the right choice for my campaign. But if not, we'll just break up at the follow-up show!
PS... America? You, out there? I know you elected Mr. Obama... but if I could just get a second chance with you, too? It Runner Up day, after all! Gimme a call! Seriously... call me! Really!
Monday, March 2, 2009
3. Trade in my choppy layers for the standard mom bob.
4. Make weekly dinner menus comprised of meatloaf, Salisbury steak and other meat and potatoes combinations.
5. Practice taking the phone off the hook at noon so I can "watch my stories."