Not A Great Day

I didn't have such a great day. Nathan threw the biggest tantrum I have ever seen him have right after breakfast, and it lasted about two hours, right up until gymnastics class. I think the only reason he calmed down was because I told him he'd have to sit it out if he didn't.

Then I drove the kids to the mall to buy shoes. Only I flaked and drove to the wrong mall - the one without the shoe store in it. And by then Andy was sleeping, and we were getting closer to lunch, so I decided we'd go after nap. Nicholas was vocal about his unhappiness at that.

But before nap I remembered that Andy had a doctor's appointment. So I had to do that instead. Which is too bad because Nick's shoes have holes in them and the soles are coming off.

But once I decided I was having a bad day I gave myself a little break. I played Candy Land with the boys. I took a shower while I pretended they weren't jumping on my bed. I made an easy pasta supper. And things were pretty good.

GOOD NEWS!

My father was given the very generous gift of two tickets to WICKED. My mother's accident and the resulting broken and dislocated arm made it too difficult and painful for her to go. Guess who went instead? ME!!!!

I have been wanting to see WICKED forever. I actually went out and purchased the soundtrack, something I never do anymore. I read the book, which wasn't helpful, as even comparing it to the soundtrack made it obvious that the two were only loosely related. (Not knocking the book. I love the book, too. All three of them.)

It was wonderful! I loved it so much! It is smart and funny and beautiful and well done. I seriously had the time of my life. We had great seats, the sets were fantastic, the lighting, the effects... FLYING MONKEYS! I mean, how could a show not be great when it had flying monkeys?

The thing is, I don't think I ever would have seen it on my own. Why not? Well... I know many of you would scoff at this, but... WICKED came to Boston a couple of years ago. I looked into getting tickets, but they were so expensive! Seriously, over a hundred dollars to see a play - not great seats, either. I just couldn't justify the expense. I know that some people have the ability to see Broadway shows multiple times. And maybe my unwillingness to pay my way to see one even once speaks to my dedication to the arts, or lack thereof. Maybe if I cared about theatre more, or appreciated it more, I wouldn't give the cost a second thought. We could eat theatre, and live in the warmth it brings us.

After all, most of the shows that I hear about on Broadway are not original. I know, I'm far away and I'd be the first to admit I don't even try to keep up, but this is what I hear about. I loved West Side Story. I have no doubt the new production is marvelous. But I've seen it. The same goes for Guys and Dolls. I guess people would rather pay lots of money to see something they are more likely to like. So shows that are new and "untested" don't get as big an audience. So they don't do as well. So they are then less likely to get put on by the men with the money. Which means when I know there's a new show I haven't seen out there, and I have a good chance of loving it, I should just SEE IT. If I could only afford to.

I hate to sound as though I'm complaining. But I guess I am. Not about WICKED. I am so greatful for the chance to see it, and could not have enjoyed it more. I just wish I could see marvelous things more often, without feeling that I'm gambling.

Give Me A Moment...

I know, I know, I was going to do a post about WICKED.

But last night, even though I was really really looking forward to a good night's sleep, I ended up in the Emergency Room. Nate hit his head, which only happens about 50 times a day, and this particular collision happened with the leg of our bear footstool, the physics of which completely escape me. But this whack left him with a nasty lump on his forehead, and when he started waking up and whimpering and crying at 10pm, he told me it was his head hurting him. Immediately images of Natasha Richardson flew through my head, as well as moments from my own head injury from long ago (stop laughing!). I waited it out for as long as I could, then I took him to the Hospital, images of CAT scans going through my head. Each time Nate coughed I expected him to start vomiting. But as we were pulling into the Emergency Room Parking he told me his ear hurt.

His EAR HURT?

HAD he told me this before we left I would have poured some Children's Motrin into the boy and tried to tough it out until Monday, when the appointment would have been a few moments and the co-pay only $20. But as it was almost midnight, and we were already AT the Emergency Room... well... I figured I'd rather look stupid and have a child that was healthy, right?

And the bump on his head was nothing. And his ear infection was rather bad, according to the doctor who looked in it for three tenths of a second before promising Nate a popsicle and rushing off, leaving me to then navigate the medications and paperwork and a nice cold popsicle at 2am in March. (Nathan expressed joy that it was red, Nick's favorite color, then told me he would leave it on his nightstand, so they could share it in the morning.)

My POINT is, I am TIRED and I can't remember what I was going to say about WICKED at the moment. I might tomorrow, because I know I really liked it, and I had SOMETHING TO SAY about shows and my passion for them and quality availability affordability enjoyability so... you know. I might actually feel up to the rant tomorrow.

Untl now I'm taking a nap and Andy is doing the heavy cleaning.

Lists of NY Things

We were in New York for a couple of days. As you know, I am a compulsive list maker, so to summarize my trip, I have made a few handy dandy lists.

Things We/I Did In New York:
- finished 5 bottles of white wine between 4 people and regretted it
- went to the Disney Store AND FAO with the boys BY MYSELF, not to buy anything, just to see
- purchased $20 of Ugly Doll stuff and $20 of candy at FAO, including a giant Gummy Bear which made me think of that scene in Willy Wonka, so I didn't need much prompting by the short people
- saw WICKED, which I have been wanting to see FOREVER, and which was SO FANTASTIGORACAL I was carried away, this might need it's own post...
- saw Wall-E three (more) times
- saw Larry, who actually lives up here closer to us, but who happened to be down there
- saw my mother, who is going to have surgery to remove bone fragments and fix up her arm and elbow, which she damaged falling down the stairs.

Things We/I Didn't Get To Do:
- see Linda
- go to the zoo or the Statue of Liberty
- visit Anne-E and Jamie's place
- go to Zabar's
- see any of those other people I keep telling myself I'm going to get in touch with.... sigh, oh well.

Things I/We Forgot In NY:
- the bag with the juice and the 5 sip cups
- my keychain - lucky for me it had no keys on it, only 4 keychains, including a mini ugly doll.
- the book "The Elves And The Shoemaker."
- I'm sure there are other things, I just haven't noticed them yet

Things We/I Took Home That We Didn't Leave With:
- the book "White Lies"
- a pair of black boots identical to the brown ones I took from my mother's closet the last time
- a small Snoopy doll wearing a mask
- the Ugly Doll stuff we got at FAO


I' m always interested in feedback, so if you notice anything missing from any of these lists, please let me know.

More Crayons

To be fair, these crayons were passed out by a classmate, and they have Disney Princesses on them.

The other thing that's really cool about this video is Nate's attempt at making conversation.

the leper-con

When I was a kid, St. Patrick's Day meant that there would be a lot of traffic, because of the parade, and that we'd probably be late for school. If we had it at all. That was about it. AS I got older it became a day to drink beer, or cider, but again, nothing huge.

Nicholas has taken to whimpering and crying on days that he has school, sometimes starting his protests the night before. He doesn't like school, doesn't want to go, wants to stay with me, etc.

Monday I went to pick him up and the first thing he asked was "am I coming to school tomorrow?" And I said no, because he doesn't come Tuesdays. And, much to my surprise, his face crumpled as though he were going to cry. "But it's St. Patrick's Day!" he said. "And I have to be here for the party and the Lepercon!"

I shrugged and said we'd celebrate at home.

In the car, Nicholas put on his brave face. "You know what?" he said. "The Lepercon will probably come to our house." Nick went on to explain that the Leprechaun stole into houses and made little messes, tipped over trash bins, left sparkly footprints and chocolate coins everywhere, and also left "sparkles in the toilet." I had a vague memory of his Nursery class celebrating this last year, but then I decided we had to get to the supermarket so that I could pick up more medicine for Andy, who's had a fever.

So, needless to say, the Leprechaun visited our home this year for the first time EVER, leaving chocolate coins in odd places, like the boys coat pockets, and in their toothpaste drawer. These chocolate coins should not at all be confused with ones sold for passover, even though many of them are Israeli coins. He might have also been making little messes, but in this house, how could one tell?

It was a hit with Nick, though, who is convinced a silly little elf has been leaving treats for him around the house.

And now, a video of the boys playing with crayons:

The Big Picture

I know I haven't been good at posting pictures lately. The truth is, I don't often take them, and then I let them sit on my camera for weeks. So I've handed over this responsibility to someone who seems a lot more comfortable with a camera than I do.


Sure, we haven't seen much of his work as of yet, but he's been wearing that thing around his neck for days at a stretch. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he's snapping shots left and right.

retribution

Last night I went to dinner in Brookline for a friend's birthday. It was a good time, especially since I don't get out much without the boys. Thanks, Steve!

The place we went was wonderful! There was a sushi bar with sushi boats actually floating by. We got to take our shoes off and sit on the floor... fun! And yummy. Only when I got there I was the first one there. I then stood in the lobby and tried to remove my coat, only I was wearing my raincoat with the winter liner. Instead of coming right off, the liner turned insdies out, and then my cardigan came off. My hands were trapped inside the sleeves, and I was standing there with my raincoat on the floor, flapping my arms, in nothing but a tank top. It was a bit awkward. So when I went to the rest room later and stumbled in putting on my shoes, even though I had nothing stronger than ginger ale... well, my dreams of being a graceful adult quickly fled.

But I had a good time. ANd a good thing, too, because Andy has a fever and is a very unhappy baby today. Argh.

Not a Real Post

I didn't get around to getting the photos and videos off my camera and onto my computer. So instead I'll just leave you with a funny thing that happened today, and no, it wasn't my brother calling me up to tell me my mother had broken her arm and dislocated her shoulder (Go Mom!)

I know we all have moments of forgetfulness, of absent mindedness, of beach-brain-ness... but this time it wasn't me. No, tonight Steve was giving the boys a bath, and I went in at the very very end, just in time to see a very happy Andy, smile from ear to ear, get pulled out of the tub... his socks still on. That's right, Steve forgot to remove the baby's SOCKS! HA!

I'm making fun. I am. But really I'm just glad that this time it wasn't me.

Thursday the 12th - again

Today was just horrible. I threw fits. The kids threw fits. Tomorrow is bound to be better. Maybe I'll post something real.

Got My Vote!

Our town has March elections, mostly to vote on articles concerning re-zoning lots, so you'll get to vote on "Lot 100987 rezoning from Rural District to Neighborhood Business District" which is great, if you have any idea where the lot was, or what the difference in districts were, or what, exactly, is behind the change.

I always go to vote because I feel strongly that I need to get my voice out there, even if it's saying NO to spending an extra 600K to build a third lighted football stadium for the high school while my five-year-old will start kindergarten in a trailer classroom.

Still, voting is a pain. It's mind numbing, and time consuming, and there are times I wonder if it's worth it.

But I go, and will keep on showing up at these elections, because the Girl Scouts sell cookies there. I always try to bring cash so that I can meet the whopping $3.50 that each box costs these days. But I never have enough for two boxes. Today the boys insisted on "The Green Box" so we ended up with thin mints despite my talking up the Samoas.

Time In A Bottle

I know I have previously posted about Daylight Savings Time, the time change, how I don't understand it, and how I feel it is actually a device meant to torture those of us with small children. To a small child, an hour is a LONG time to wait for snack, nap, bed, or to wake up.

But this time around I noticed a few other things.

For one thing, we have too many clocks. While resetting them I realized that three of them are within four feet of each other. And I HAVE to set them ALL. Nothing is more irritating than a bunch of clocks all telling different times. And the one on the coffee maker HAS to be right.

But upstairs we have almost no clocks at all. There are two. Steve's alarm clock is by our bed, and he sets it ten minutes fast for reasons I cannot comprehend. So each time I glance at it I need to subtract ten minutes to find "real time." There is also a battery powered alarm clock in Andy's room which I placed there when I was breastfeeding. The batteries are going by now, so the clock is running slow. At this point it runs about a half hour behind, so I need to add thirty minutes to find "real time."

With the time change I was adding an hour. So I had to glance at Steve's clock and add an hour, then subtract ten minutes. Or in Andy's room add an hour and then another half hour. And last night I wasn't sure if Steve had reset his clock, so when Andy woke me up the five or six times, I didn't know if I was adding an hour and subtracting ten minutes or if I was just subtracting thirty minutes, and by the time I got to Andy's room I couldn't remember what the first clock said anyway.

All I know is that I was very glad I had set the clock on the coffee machine. The one with the timer. So that coffee is ready by the time I drag my body down the stairs, exhausted from doing math problems all night long.

Meow

Puck likes to hang out on the stairs. I'm finally getting around to painting this hallway, patching up the holes the previous tenants left in the wall. My hope is that I'll actually then be motivated enough to hang our own family photographs up when I'm through.

Artists

Last Monday we had a Snow Day. Instead of despairing, I let the kids stay in their PJ's all day, and dragged out the painting gear. It was Andrew's first time painting. He did all right, all things considered. This photograph was taken just about three seconds before he turned and painted my cookbooks blue. When he was done I kept finding blue paint on the counters, and I realized he had reached underneath his smock and smeared a thick layer of blue on his white PJ's, and he was calmly finger-painting the kitchen.

Painting falls into the same category as sledding: lots of prep time, 5 minutes of activity, lots of clean up.

How We Bowl

We've taken the boys bowling a couple of times. It's not the lighthearted outing one might suppose because 1 - it's not real bowling, it's done with teeny tiny balls and funny shaped pins, and 2 - It takes about 45 minutes for a ball Nate bowls to reach the pins, and at times, when the lanes are uneven, the balls gives up and starts making it's way back, as though it forgot what it was supposed to do.

For Christmas, someone gave Andy a bowling set, with six milk container pins and a "cow ball" which plays music and moos when you bowl it. Here Nate and Andy share their bowling secrets in individual videos.

Nathan:



Andrew:



Very effective!

Hawk from a Handsaw

Andy knows I'm trying to get him to point out something. If he could only figure out what it was I was talking about...

Happy Smile?

Or is he like a shark, grinning before he bites you?

One Cool Cat

Super Heroes

Someone gave us some Spiderman PJ's for Andy. Including little slippers. Someone was very excited about it - hint: it wasn't Andy.

So this picture shows Nick wearing PJ's two sizes too small. I didn't get any pictures of Nathan trying to shove his feet into the slippers.

Chapter 18 - In Which Andy Finds A New Hobby

In this video you'll see Andy ignore my cues for nap time, try out his new hobby, and throw a small tantrum, of which he's grown very fond.

Better?

Candy fixes everything.

Chapter 17 - In Which Nick Gets Sneaky

Something is going on.

I don't know what it is, but both Nick and Nate have been acting up in different ways - Nate by grabbing toys and hitting and yelling "No I Don't Want To!" and Nicholas by throwing awful temper tantrums which include high pitched screams and clinging and other regressive behavior (like clinging to me crying "mama" if it's about me leaving.)

This started a while ago, and I figured that the behavior would change, that whatever set it off would eventually get addressed, that the kids would figure out the tantrums weren't getting them anywhere. But they've only gotten worse.

Today Nick threw a tantrum at 7:30 am when he learned we were going to the library and would be returning the video he's picked out - a Gumby Movie. I hate Gumby. We've had him for two weeks, and I was quite ready to see him go back. But Nick cried, screamed, kicked his heels, refused to stop or to go someplace else to calm down. The more he tantrumed the more adamant I was that Gumy would go back. I pried the DVD from Nick's clutching fingers, and stuck it in the bag, then ushered the boys upstairs to get dressed.

Of course by the time we got to the library the DVD was no longer in the bag. Nick had stuck it under a blanket in the living room. "I told you I didn't want to go to the library," he said sadly.

I have put Gumby on the "Do Not Watch" list. But I am still worried about my boys. What's going on with these guys?

With a Capital T

Here is Andy.

He is in his booster seat.

If the booster seat did not have a locking tray, Andy would be on the table. ON the table.

That's right. Andy can now climb onto the chairs from the floor. And onto the table from the chairs. He can reach cups on unfinished milk, markers, the salt shaker... Oh the disasters that have occurred since he learned to do this a few days ago.

I thought I could stop him by moving the salt shaker to the counter and pushing the chairs in as far as they can go, but he quickly learned he could push the chairs if he tried hard enough, and that the counter was as easy to reach as the table.

Help.

Boy

Yeah... Nathan's starting to look like a regular kid. Less baby, more boy.

Down In The Mouth?

Last week Nicholas and Nathan had dentist appointments. Quite by chance, it was the same week that a dental hygienist visited Nick's classroom and talked to them about their teeth. The end result was that Nick ended up with buckets of pamphlets, floss, toothpaste, and toothbrushes.

For Christmas the boys got battery operated toothbrushes, and within two days the works were gunked up with globs of toothpaste, which the boys insist on putting on themselves, meaning they use three times the amount they should. They also never rinse the bristles off. I was actually excited to see these things go.

As soon as he got home from school, Nick wanted to brush his teeth. "Can I brush them now, Mom? Now? How about now?" I managed to convince him to wait until after supper. Finally we get to that point, and the boys are very excited about the new tooth stuff, and I turn around and there is Nicholas, sitting on the toilet seat, barely holding himself together.

"Nicholas, you look so sad! Is something wrong?"

At this point Nick started sobbing, loud, heart wrenching cries, his small body heaving, and it took a few moments for me to make out the words he was trying to get out. "I'm going to miss my old toothbrush so much!"

I explained that this wasn't something to cry over, and Nick disagreed and explained that the new toothbrush wouldn't 'tickle his teeth' the same way. And I told him he could keep it until he was ready to throw it out.

And I get extra points for not laughing right out loud, even though I really really wanted to.

The Popsicle

I get a Popsicle.

Brother notices I have the last popsicle.


I end up sharing the popsicle, like it or not.

Vogue

Nicholas is pretending he doesn't see me standing there with the camera. See how he doesn't notice me? See how nonchalant he is?

smile for the camera

I keep trying to catch the boys in action and get some good video footage, some without my nasal voice cutting in, or the camera shaking with my silent, or not so silent, laughter. Unfortunately, the boys all see me coming and pose for the camera, so... yeah.

Out of... something...

I have a cold. The kind that, for a couple of days, sat in my ears so that I felt as though I were underwater. Then it moved to my chest and sat there, daring me to cough, only when I did my chest and throat would burn as though I were coughing up glass shards.

I'm getting better. My ears still bug me, but my throat no longer burns. Now I'm just congested and tired. So... I was going to say there would be no post, but instead the details of my health complaints seem to have taken up a good deal of room! Sorry. Please forgive me. I'm in a fog.

Say It Ain't So!

Steve recently made an offhand comment about me being miserable, and when I questioned his assumption, he declared that one only had to read my blog to discover how sad and miserable I was.

I hope this isn't the case. I really do. Because although I am, at times, really miserable and sad or angry, most of the time I am just fine. Sometimes I am ecstatic! Sometimes I have difficulty understanding why I am so happy. Perhaps it just doesn't translate.

This valentine's day I asked Steve NOT to get me a huge box of chocolates. A small one would be appreciated, but the big ones I've gotten for the past few years were too much. I'm trying to get rid of these last few baby pounds, after all...

Saturday morning Steve gave me a very sweet small box of chocolates. I gave him a large bag of peanut m&m's. I also gave each of the boys a heart shaped box of chocolates. I should have coordinated with Steve because he also gave each of the boys a small box of chocolates. We then left to go to a boat show (fun) and stopped by Lillian's on the way home. She mentioned that she had stopped by our place while we were away, and she had left us 1 blueberry cake, 1 valentine's cake, and 1 small box of valentine's candy for each of the boys. I also had purchased a heart shaped ice cream cake. I guess we really should coordinate this gift giving business, because looking around you'd think we were selling the stuff.

Anyway, my point is, this is a funny thing! And I am not at all sad or depressed about it. How could one be miserable with all this chocolate in the house?

Day of Love

When I was young and full of romantic notions, I used to think Valentine's day was about Romance. Now I realize it is actually about spending money, and also chocolate. But what I would LIKE it to be is a day when people take the time to let others know that they are loved and cared about, even though we might not see eye-to-eye on more than a few issues, and even though the last time we saw each other you threw a crumpled up note with the words "You are a big fat dork!" written on it right at my head. (That never happened. It's a hypothetical. I just can't remember the actual words.)

So with that, I shall leave you with my favorite valentine's cake from Cake Wrecks. Enjoy the day, and tell someone you love them!

Thursday the 12th

In the fifth grade I slipped on some ice and split my upper lip on the sidewalk curb. It happened to be on a Friday the 13th.

Ever since then, Friday the 13th has been like any other day, no more unlucky than any other day. Except that I was recovering from all the horrors of Thursday the 12th, which brings me nothing but bad luck.

I shouldn't say bad luck. I don't really have much bad luck. But bad days. Days where I run into traffic, or forget to bring my computer to work, or remember I have a paper due at 3pm, or wake up with a horrible splitting headache at 4:30 am because the baby is crying and thinks it's time to get up and he doesn't care that your sinuses are clogged or that you've started coughing up green alien guts.

I took today off, in laundry, room painting, and cooking terms. And I flicked the TV on early.

Go, Mom, Go!

Nate had an accident at school today. It happens. That's not what I'm posting about. What I'm posting about is the change of clothing he had there to change into. The shirt was a T-shirt - so out of season, and more than a size too small. So he had to borrow a sweatshirt from a classmate. And the pants... well, they ended a good three inches before his socks started.

Ugh. So much for me being on top of things.

Ni-ni? Uh-oh!

Andrew is learning to speak. Every so often he will say something that sounds like a word, and the give that cute little impish grin, as though he's just told a naughty joke. Tonight I even heard him sing for the first time. (In case you were wondering, he produced an echo of Nathan's opening notes of "The Wall-E song.")

But the two words Andy has down pat are "Ni ni" which means "Sleep" or "naptime" or "Good Night" depending on the actual situation, and "Uh-oh" which means "Everything Else." If Andy is left to play alone and doesn't decide to cry, you'll hear him say "Bababa Uh-oh! Ahh Uh-oh! Uh-oh! um ummmmmm Uh-oh! Uh-oh!"

I actually had a funny conversation with Andrew today while trying to get him to nap. "Night night!" I said. And he replied, "Ni ni! Ni ni!" as I rocked him in my arms. "Ni ni!" long pause. Then "Uh-oh!" And then I started laughing, because it sounded as though he just realized I was trying to get him to sleep. And once I started laughing, he started laughing. "Shhhh! Go to sleep!" I whispered, trying to not laugh. "Ni ni!" he said. "Uh oh! Ni ni!"

Boys

Uh-oh

Andy's the one on camera, Nate's the one laughing, Nick's the Mr. Bouncy shirt in the background.

One Flew Over...

Today was one of my crazy days.

Oh no, Kathleen! I'm sure you don't have crazy days? What could possibly have happened that would make you say that?

Well... I'll tell you.

Earlier this year, sometime around Christmas, Nick's fingernails started breaking off near the base. Not all of them, just three. And we went to see the doctor, who was not terribly concerned, but she wasn't sure what to make of it, and so referred us to a dermatologist. The dermatologist's office scheduled an appointment for over a month in the future - for today.

Nick's fingernails are better now. Which is to say they are a little bumpy and short, but they are growing, and seem fine, and not ugly yellow spreading to other fingers. But I decided to keep the appointment anyway, since it took so long to get. If I still had it, because there was no call reminding me we had it.

I kept Nick out of school to make the appointment, because it was in the middle of the school day, and he's only be there for an hour before I had to pick him up. The actual time of the appointment is exactly the time I try to get the boys down for a nap - not a big deal for Nick, but Nate and Andy were going to have to tough it out. Steve had to go to a meeting, and I made the choice to bring the other boys and not bug Lillian. How long could the appointment take?

I found the office park easily enough, but it was hard to confirm the building was correct because the number was so small. I put Andy in the stroller to make things easier. The dermatologists office was on the second floor. After some walking around, a lady from a different office came out and told us there was no elevator, we'd have to take the stairs or walk around the icy building, so I hauled the stroller up the stairs.

By this time I'd forgotten the suite number, so we walked around until we found the office. The receptionist.... how can I put this. Have you seen Ghostbusters? You remember the receptionist and her nasal, eye rolling look, filing her nails on the phone? A wealth of welcoming warmth and kindness compared to the look I got from this lady, who looked at me as though I were wearing my hooker attire.

"Um... I think we have an eleven thirty?"

"Name."

"Nicholas"

She looked down, but didn't smile. "You do."

She then went on to inform me that we had no referral. "Are you sure?" I asked,"Because we made the appointment a while ag-" "I'm sure." she interrupted without looking down. "But you can sign a waiver for today's visit since you don't have one."

She then handed me ont one, but two clipboards, a pen, and picked up the phone.

I had to wrangle the boys, who were wired, and were trying to sit in each of the chairs in the waiting room, obviously much to the annoyance of the one other person in there. I sat them down, but I could tell I had only moments, so I quickly turned to the first item which stated "I understand that my insurance is not paying and that I am resonsible for all costs..." and I saw RED.

Because, to me, she didn't care if we had a referral. She didn't look. And here we were, at an appointment that would very likely cost us and arm and a leg for a condition that needed care a MONTH ago, but was BETTER now, and this lady was just so RUDE, and the boys were already out of their seats...

"You know what?" I said, standing and tossing the clipboards on the desk. "I'm sorry. I just... if we don't have a referral, I can't pay for it... and.... I'm sorry."

I turned and swept the kids through the door. "Are you sure?" she called out, her face a maske of shock, phone still to her ear, "Because referrals usually come through quick-"

But I was already crying. "Not today!" I shouted. And left.

I hate this about myself - that I can let things overwhelm me so much that I break down, no matter where I am, no matter who is watching. I hate that I couldn't just suck it up and follow through with the appointment, but I couldn't. I couldn't stand to be in the office one secod further, and to make these people DO THEIR JOBS and call the pediatrician again and get the referral over again... for something that was no longer a problem...


So yeah, that crazy lady, sobbing behind the wheel of her minivan? Yeah, that was me.

Why we keep those toys

Today I took the kids with me to Target to select valentine's for their classmates. I was already on the on-ramp to the highway when I realized my wallet was in the bag I use for choir. The extra 30 minutes it added to our trip was frustrating, as was the fact that the selection of child-sized valentines were limited to those with no characters we knew, and came with pop-rocks.

So I took the boys to the book store afterward. I had some gift cards, and I wanted to grab a copy of Dante's Inferno because I've never read it but keep running across books that refer back to it. I like to read. I am trying to pass this love of reading, the escapism of reading, along to my boys. Nathan seems to really enjoy it, but Nicholas gives up rather easily. "You tell me what it says," he'll say. And I'll have to tell him the word is DOG. We're reading Go Dog Go, and it looks the same as it did on the previous 5 pages when I've pointed it out to him and sounded it out and spelled it out. And I worry he isn't learning or isn't able to learn, and I panic.

I let each boy pick out a book to buy. Nicholas picked a book that had little letter magnets. "Learn To Spell!" the book says. These books are generally a lot of trouble, and Nick usually ignores the book and plays with the toys until they are scattered around the house and I end up picking them up for the next three years. But I said yes.

I was making lunch and Nick was sorting through the letter magnets. "I want to spell a word, Mom," he said, "but I can't find the C. I can find the A and the T."

I almost cried. Because he gets it.

Illusions

I signed the kids up for storytime again today. We have skipped it so far this year, because it was getting so hard to usher Nick into the room while keeping Nate out of it, but now that Nathan has turned three they can both go. As usual, the registration process was ridiculous - it started at 9am, but when I showed up at 8:30 the line was out onto the sidewalk. I got numbers 41 and 42, but was lucky enough to get the day and time I wanted.

I know the process is insane, and I can't stand the fact that these women, these mothers, are willing to stand out on the cold with their kids just to sign them up for this. Who are these women? Are they insane? And then it occured to me that... well, I was one of them.

I tell myself I am NOT that kind of person. I am only there because my schedule is tight - I mean, sure, it may seem like I don't have a lot to do during the day, but it is really a fine balancing act between when things open and when the kids will fall asleep in the car on the way home messing up nap. And I know many people would roll their eyes and wonder why that is such a big deal, but until you've sat at the dinner table with two of my nap-deprived kids you will never understand. The Storytime slots either occur on a school day, during their gymnastics class, or in the afternoon... except for the one other class. So it was VERY IMPORTANT for me to get the ONE CLASS we could make...

See? I have a REASON for getting there so early and standing out in the cold. I'm not one of these other moms with no life. Who show up early and force eveyone else to show up early or go with no storytime slot. They couldn't possibly be in the same situation as I, could they?

Gooble Gobble, one of us. Why oh why do I do all this again?

I Hate That Stupid Groundhog

Not that I'm actually surprised that he saw his shadow. Or that there will be six more weeks of winter. It's February second, after all. It's the middle of winter. Not the end.

Although at this point, I'd really welcome a gigantic heat wave.

I'm looking forward to the summer, to wearing a t-shirt outdoors and feeling hot, and to putting on the ice cold sprinkler for the kids. To sweating in the humidity.

Or actually, just to be able to drive up the driveway without the tires skipping on the ice.

I promise to post real things with real pictures soon. Including one of Andy Dancing, provided he cooperates.

Insert Interesting Post Here

I had a post, but for some reason my stupid computer wouldn't publish it. Suddenly my stupid computer kept telling me the site didn't exist.

Then my post disappeared.

I'm watching football, which does not help my mood, as I don't understand the attraction or excitement or the need to yell at the TV screen when the Patriots are not involved.

I am, however, looking forward to Monday nights with All New HEROES and MEDIUM.

Gosh I love Medium. I wish I could stay awake for the whole program.

Recap of NY Trip

1 - I had a good time.

2 - Vodka tonics should not be made with vanilla flavored vodka.

3 - I saw my friend Heather for the first time in 17 years, and she looks great and I had a wonderful time.

4 - My kids won't eat it if I didn't make it on our stove.

5 - We went to see the dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum.

6 - On the way back to the apartment, a wheel broke off my stroller. It was a $300 double stroller. I threw it out.

7 - I will eat anything at my parents' house.

8 - I really need to stop eating junk.

The End

Paranoid?

I try really hard in this blog not to come across as a crazy, paranoid person. Please forgive me if I occasionally miss the mark. But today... today is one of those days I am not even going to try. I am letting go, and I'm planning on spouting out all sorts of words and sentences that will let you know, at last, that yes, I should be locked away and am unfit for society.

The weather is plotting against me. ME, specifically. Yeah yeah, ice storms all over, snow everywhere, but no, I happen to know it's really ME the snow and ice is trying to drive insane. How do I know?

People: I HAVE NO LIFE! Sure, I have kids, and I have this house, and I'm busy all the time doing laundry and cleaning and driving kids to school and all that, but... There's very little to actually get excited about. I get worked up about a kid's yearly check-up a week ahead of time. I get WAY too excited about the movies coming in on Netflix. I even look forward to "bike day" at the kids' school.

This fall we joined a church. And I love it because this particular church does not require me to stop wondering if there is even a God, and lets me feel magic and spiritual in the way I love best - by singing. I LOVE the singing even if the songs are sometimes hokey and we sound terrible doing it. I look forward to the rehearsals and to the services, and I am never as happy as I am when I am actually singing.

Choir rehearsals are Wednesday nights. Wednesday also happens to be Trash Pickup Day, and the day I do grocery shopping. It is also a school day for the boys. Every Wednesday but ONE this year we have had major ice and snow storms, and I have had to juggle the schedule to try to get food for us to eat, to get the trash to balance precariously on the mountain of snow at the foot of our driveway, And to risk my LIFE getting to choir rehearsals because if I'm going to be at home all day with the boys, I sure as heck-fire and gonna let loose and sing some "Spirit of Creation" afterward.

I happen to know it's also snowing this week because of the trip to NY I was planning. I was planning on leaving tomorrow, because the boys had school today. Which they no longer have. But leaving now would be insanity, right? Not to mention the fact that Nick's Parent/Teacher conference is now rescheduled to the day and TIME I have my Doctor's appointment - not a kid's, but MINE.

People, we've had enough snow. Look at the pictures. They do not lie. And this is after the snow has gone down for over a week. I can tell because I can see the handles of the boys shovels and the head of the snowman we built LAST MONTH. And these pictures - I just took them. They say we'll get a foot of snow on top of this.

I hate it here. I hate it. I'm looking forward to freaking global warming. And I'm going to run the car in the driveway right now for no reason just to speed up the process. so there!

A liitle off today, folks

Really upset by the impending snowstorm. Please forgive me, but I'm too depressed to write.

When you least expect it

Just when you think you've caught up on the laundry and your house is clean, one kid will throw up in bed all over the sheets and the comforter and the pillow, and another will puke en route to the bathroom splattering the mess all along the just-been-mopped kitchen floor. And I mean ALL along the kitchen floor, which is saying something, if you've seen the ginormous kitchen.

Unfortunately, there is no wine in the house. I shall just sit tight and hope it's a fluke, and not a stomach bug.

My mood is not improved by the weather forcast, which says we get a foot of snow on Wednesday.

Hair

I got a hair cut. So did the boys. Maybe I got confused about which place I was supposed to ask for the cut and color?

Hey, Linda!

What's that you're always saying about my boys and their big, bald heads?

Getting Over It

Today was one of those days when it felt like the boys were actively working against me. Seriously, they want to break me and see me loose it. Off to the loony bin with me. The sad part it, I might see it as a kind of break.
It's one thing when they fight, or when they don't listen, but when I'm letting them play and my goal is to clean up a room - one room - and I keep finding objects that belong in that room all over the house - in the bathroom, the hallway, under the kitchen table - I can't help but wonder if they know how crazy they are making me. Especially when I get back to that room and find my entire CD collection spread out on the floor.

They have no clue, of course. Andy just loves getting into the drawer where I keep the boys toothpaste and sucking it out of the tube, and he can't help his instinct to put poisonous things into his mouth. And Nick and Nate try to help, it's just that they don't completely grasp what my goal is... or what a "goal" is in general. And with three of them at once, it can be disheartening.

But now I have popcorn. I'm over it.


.

Politics

Who is our new president?

Well, according to Nathan, his name is "Obonka." And nobody better tell him any different.

Home Improvement

I just spent ten days painting a room, and messed it up in three seconds by swatting red paint all over the white wall,

Act Of Creation

The birthday cake I made for Nate was my first attempt at using rolled fondant.

I am neither baker nor sculptor, so my expectations weren't too high. Instead of making my own, for this first "play session," I purchased some ready made. You can get it at some arts & crafts stores, and all you have to do is roll it out and drape it over the cake. It was that easy. And, looking at the Wall-E cake below.... well, does it not look smooth?

I've learned a couple of things from the process. First, add flavoring. (any clear flavoring - clear vanilla!) Second, roll it thinner - it's gummy, and not pleasant to chew. Third... well, success with forming anything out of fondant can be measures by one's gift at sculpting play-doe. I can't make anything out of that stuff unless I use cookie cutters. Hence, the green stars on Nate's cake. I tried my best at turning stars into flowers, but the icing started to get hard, so I ran out of time.

Next time (and there will be a next time) I am going to try to make my own. All I need is a candy thermometer. And beautiful, premade, edible flowers.

Off Target

Last Monday Nick's teacher told me he needed waterproof gloves. When buying gloves for this winter I glanced at the poofy, warmer, more expensive gloves, but opted for the strtchy knit kind because 1 - they are less expensive 2 - the kids never seem to want to spend more than 10 minutes in the snow anyway and 3 -none of my kids can keep a pair of gloves together for more than 20 seconds, sometimes loosing a glove before we even get into the car.

Nevertheless, the teacher explained that at school they spend 45 minutes outside, and once Nick's gloves get wet he is cold and uncomfortable. So Friday, my shopping day, I set out to Target to get some. It was Nate's birthday, and a very cold day. When I left the garage, the car gave the outside temperature a balmy 25 degrees. By the time I pulled into the school parking lot, it read -6.

That's NEGATIVE SIX, people. BELOW ZERO.

I swept the two younger kids back into the car and drove us to Target where I expected to find the gloves I was looking for. After all, I had SEEN them there before. However, once I got there, all I could find were the stretchy knit ones we already had. Apparently they took them all down to make room for the swimsuits and easter dresses. Yes. Here in New England, in January, I can browse through five different racks of swimsuits. But GOD HELP ME if I want to buy a pair of MITTENS. in NEGATVE SIX DEGREE TEMPS! Stupid me. I guess I was supposed to buy everything back in September, when they first set them out, and I was looking for shorts.

Am I the only one who wonders what Target, and other chain stores, are thinking? I mean, who needs swimsuits now? Put out a couple of racks for vacationers, if you must, but what kid doesn't loose a glove? What about the rest of us who need to buy things we need NOW instead of things we might need FIVE MONTHS from now. I mean, the earliest we might possibly use a swimsuit here in New Hampshire is May, and that's four months from now. And it just keeps getting worse and worse. I suppose, if I wait long enough, they just might start putting out NEXT year's winter stuff NOW, getting so far ahead of themselves that they lap the seasons and it starts making sense again. But for now, since the business decisions aren't being made by people, but my business executives who keep their gloves in their ski chalets, I've got a five year old with no gloves.

My frustration only increasedwhen I went to checkout and there were ten people waiting for the one register that was open. Apparently all the other employees were busy pulling the winter items off the shelves.

So I went online to buy the boys gloves. I went to LL Bean, and I consoled myself by telling myself I could buy myself new winter boots. I need them, as I'm still wearing the same ones I got in 1995. I told everyone I needed some for Christmas, and then at one point it seemed as though I might get several pairs. I must have mentioned this to several people because I didn't get any. So I went online to look up the boots I wanted. Guess what? Et tu, LL Bean?

I ordered the gloves anyway. They should get here early next week. Which is good, because we have six inches of fresh snow, and counting.

Happy Birthday Nathan!

Today was Nathan's Third Birthday.



The cupcakes I made him for school:

The cake I made for our family celebration:


I think he had a good day.

Donkey Fable

There was this story, this fable, that I remember hearing when I was a little girl. The way I remember it, a man and his son were walking their donkey into town. And on their way they passed some people and overheard them saying "Foolish people! Why are they both walking when one of them could be riding the donkey?" So the son climbed on the donkey and on they went until they passed another group of people. This time they overheard people saying "Selfish son! Riding that donkey while his poor old father has to walk!" So the son hopped down and the father hopped on up, and on they went. Until they passed yet another group of people. "Poor donkey! Having to walk all that way with that heavy man on his back!" And the end result was that father and son ended up in town carrying the donkey.

The moral of the story is: You can't please everyone.

I know that this moral can apply to life in general, and to any particular aspect of life. But lately I've been thinking of how it applies to parenthood, in particular.

Because there's no way you could win, with parenthood. Starting from the very moment you find out you're pregnant, everyone has some idea of what you can't or can't do. You can't drink. But some women will have a drink while pregnant. Others will actually smoke. Which I find horrific. But many women also find it horrific when a mom-to-be has a large cup of coffee. Which I did most every day. And some pregnant women actually watch things like sugar intake, protein, and... um... salt. Or whatever.

Not that I'm pregnant. I'm not. But the thing is, it keeps going. To how you give birth - drugs, or no drugs? Then breastfeeding? Some people think if you don't, you're selfish, lazy, and putting your child's future health at risk. But don't breastfeed too long. Or you're turning your child into a freak. Or if you're on the other end of the argument, don't stop too soon. And don't let them fall asleep with a bottle, ever. Or a pacifier. And don't give them solid food too soon. But for heaven's sake, don't wait too long. And don't give them any of those "allergenic" foods, like eggs, or peanuts, or strawberry, or anything dairy. At all. Because if you do, you're a horrible mother. On the other hand, you don't want to be one of those parents with a child who is "sensitive" to everything. (Some people think giving your kids peanuts too soon will cause them to have allergies later on, and some people think not giving them nuts soon enough causes the allergies.) And if you don't force your children to eat only organic foods you're endangering their welfare. And while some people think I'm crazy to limit TV time, other people are horrified that I let such small children watch any at all.

The same goes for child safety. A lot of parents think I'm insane for not installing baby gates because my kids might fall down the stairs... on the other hand, my kids learn how to go up and down stairs much earlier than some 'other' people's kids. And I have bent my mind into a pretzels trying to find the line between watching my kids too much and not watching them enough, between telling them what to do and letting them make their own choices, and deciding if it's more important to help Nathan, who's peed his pants and has his shirt tangled over his head and is wailing and sobbing, or to stop Andy, who is methodically climbing up the dresser, which is wobbling, to reach the hot poisonous knives.

Some days I feel as though everyone is watching me and rolling their eyes, judging the job I'm doing as a mother because my kids are loud or excited or cranky. And I honestly don't know what it is I'm supposed to do, or what it is the other parents expect me to so. Or even, in some circumstances, what STEVE expects me to do. If I try the patient, calm, quiet voice approach, I can only speak to one child at a time, and it appears as though I am letting the other two run wild. If I resort to yelling, I look like... well, someone who yells at her kids a lot. Because I've tried yelling, and it doesn't really work, and usually just leads to more yelling.

There's no real way to do this right.

Sing a Song

It's not that I purposely goof off during choir.

It's just that I like singing so much. And it lightens my heart. And it makes me giggle at inappropriate moments. During rehearsals. And sometimes during performance. But mostly during rehearsals.

Terrble, Horrible, etc.

This morning Andy woke up at 5am crying. Since I'm painting his room - a four day project in it's fifth day and only halfway done - I've put him in his play yard in the big kid's room. So of course Nick and Nate woke right up. I got up. I rocked Andy, who was quiet but staring at me, eyes wide open. Nick and Nate decided to help me put him back to sleep by singing "quietly."

Today was a gym day, and it was there that I noticed stuff leaking out of Andy's ear. So as soon as we got home - after putting a sleeping Andy on the floor - I called the pediatrician. I fed the boys lunch, put on a video,told Steve he was on duty, and plonked Andy back in the car, where he woke up. Turns out both ears were infected. And I thought he was just cracky because he was teething.

I dropped off the perscription, drove home, and put the other boys in the car to make it to Nick's Eye Doctor appointment. Both Andy and Nate fell asleep on the way there. Nick did very well during the exam, unless you count the screaming he did when the nurse had to put drops in his eyes - we both had to hold him and she had to pry his eye lids back. But his vision is pretty much perfect. Which means we're back to square one for the headaches.

Steve had to leave for a business meeting, which meant that I got the kids all to myself all afternoon. I was so tired I let them watch too much TV while I made Wall-E cupcakes for Nate's school class birthday tomorrow. And dinner. While Andy cried and clung to my knees and fell to the floor whenever I had to turn in any direction.

I am so tired.

Check Mate

When Andy sleeps longer than the Big Boys at naptime, I sometimes let them take out toys I don't usually let them play with. These toys have many small parts that refuse to stay on the table and that smaller boys love to pop into their little mouths. One of these toys is a "10 Games in One!" box, with multiple boards and tiny little marbles and discs and, oddly enough, wooden sprinkles.

Nick loved to play with "the marbles" and asks for them a lot, but I refuse a lot, simply because each time we dig out the box twenty little parts fall to the floor and get missed in the clean up. But it's been so snowy and yucky that I actually pulled it out. While Nick played with the marbles, Nate plucked out the chess pieces and asked me to play with him.

"I don't remember how to play," I confessed. But I set up the board and told him the names of the pieces, and how they moved (if I remembered it.) I also told him that to win, you had to capture the other person's king.

"This is the king." Nate said, pointing to his king. I nodded. "And this is my queen." He pointed to his queen. Then he reached over and pointed to my royal couple. "That's your king, and that's your queen."

Satisfied that he understood, I turned to fold laundry while he played. "No! Mommy, play with me!" he shouted. "I can't, I don't remember how!" I said. But Nate would have none of it. He scrambled toward me, halfway over the table, pleading, "Please, play chess with me, Mommy! Play this game!"

And looking down he snatched up a piece. "I got your king! You Loose!"

Honanunu Now

The boys got this talking map-puzzle of the US. When you put in a state, the puzzle tells you the name of the state, the state nickname, and the state capital. "Tennessee! The Volunteer State! State capital: Nashville!"

No matter how much I try to convince them otherwise, they boys insist that that capital of Hawaii is pronounced "Hona NU NU"

Wednesday night we had a lot of snow, but I went to choir rehearsal anyway. It had been put off because of the holidays and before that for the informal Christmas Eve choir. I missed it. Thursday we had a freezing rain all day. Friday the snow I didn't shovel in front of my garage door was a two foot tall block of ice. Sunday it snowed a foot, and the driveway was so slippery Steve couldn't get up it in the plow. Of course not only was choir canceled, but church school and also church. So I guess it didn't matter. But I woke up depressed after a night of getting up with Andy every thirty minutes - ear infection, I think. And I was just so frustrated and sad all I wanted to do was pull the covers over my head - not get up and listen to the boys fight and ""New Jersey! The Garden State!"

Steve was shoveling snow on his knees, and finally called Lillian to ask her to bring us ice melt. Then he realized there had been an accident on the highway involving 50 cars and the highway had been closed for hours. Lucky for us she made it here wihout incident. After she left I want out and tried to finish up, but honestly all I think I did was push slush from one end of the driveway to the other with the shovel.

I would like to move to Honanunu now.

Frustrating Frustration

I had the bright idea to paint a few rooms in my house.

I had it all broken up. I was going to do one room a month, reasoning that it usually takes me about a week to do a room, and giving me breaks in between.

Steve urged me to take my time, and to "splurge" on supplies such as tape and drop cloths and paint edgers, probably because each of my painting jobs leaves us with at least one brightly colored splotch on a rug, drip on a baseboard, or an odd colored blob on the ceiling. And I admit, I usually get bored with this part and try to dive right into the painting part.

So when I started Andy's room, I started it right. I filled the holes in his walls so that, when painted, the walls would be smooth and I could then hang pictures where I wanted and not just to cover up the holes already there.

And that's when I got stuck. Today I set up the play yard for Andy in the boys' room. I started covering up the rug and the furniture too big to leave the room. But I didn't even get to finish that. Because the boys were making such a fuss, Andy screaming for, apparently, no reason at all, and Nick and Nate fighting over who got to use the big white blanket.

And I got a little upset. In my mind I was thinking a week, but now I'm thinking I'm going to be lucky to finish this project by the end of the month. I was planning on doing the prep work - the taping, etc, while the boys were awake. But I'm going to have to do it all while everyone is sleeping. Shoot.

Nothing New with Nick

I took Nick to his doctor's appointment, and the results were... I shouldn't say bad. Bad would have been the doctor taking on look at Nick's fingers and telling me he had to have an MRI, or that he was going to loose his fingers, or that he had some horrible syndrome and was going to need to be on medication forever. And none of those things happened. Here's what did:

The doctor didn't know what to make of his fingernails. She did say it was probably not iron or zinc (with fingernails she said it would be zinc) because it only occurred on three nails and he didn't get a rash, nor was he having problems with his hair. So she was referring him to a dermatologist. Did you know dermatologists deal with fingernails and hair issues? Apparently they do.

As for the headaches, she suggested we get his eyes checked. Because most of the time headaches like his are caused by eyesight, and it's also the easiest fix.

So immediately upon returning from the doctor's office, I called the eye doctor and made an appointment for next week. And the dermatologist, and made an appointment for next month. And hoped the fingernails wouldn't get too much worse before then. And in each case I had to give out all the information in the world, the insurance information, the date of birth, the referring doctor, Steve's name, birthdate, workplace. Then I had to call the pediatrician and tell them about the other doctor's appointments so that all the referring information could be faxed back and forth.

Ugh.

Gotta Pay The Toll

When we were kids we went through a tollbooth every day to get to school. We used to play this game where one of us would stick out an arm, blocking the way of other siblings, and shout "Gotta Pay The Toll!" And usually a hand slap would do it. (This game may as well been called "Annoying The Others.")

Our kids know about tollbooths, but I don't think they are as clear on what goes on during the transaction. Nate was scooting around the kitchen on Andy's new ride-on rocket, and when he reached me he stuck out his hand. "You give me money!" he shouted.

Link link link

I don't know if you've noticed, but I've added a couple of new "places to go." If you have time, check them out.

I monitor the sites I post links to, and after a few months of inactivity, I remove it from my list. If you're resurrecting a site I used to include, please let me know!

I still have no photos

Sorry.

I'm a little distracted tonight. Nicholas has been complaining of headaches for months - at dinner, at school... and we've been chalking them up to dramatics, guessing he is either bored or wants attention or at least a change of scene. But it's gotten so that his teachers have mentioned the headaches more than once. If he's faking he sure is persistent. Maybe he needs glasses?

So there's that.

But then... well, just before Christmas he showed me his thumb, saying he cut it. But in fact, it looked as though the nail had broken off in the middle of the nail, but hadn't quite fallen off. And so I thought he banged his thumb, or ripped his nail on something. But Saturday I noticed that two more fingers - the middle one on each hand, were developing white splotches at the base of the nail, and today one was starting to crack. And besides, the kid can't bump his toe at school without telling me about it. Let alone smash his fingers hard enough to damage three nails.. on two different hands.

I keep telling myself it's probably some nail fungus - gross, but people get it on their toes all the time. It's just that I worry. Part of me, the worst case scenario part, is worried that the headaches and the fingernails are somehow related in some horrible way.

Thursday we go to the doctor. She can laugh at me and give Nick and anti fungal.

Robot Cupcakes

For his birthday, Nathan wants Wall-E cupcakes.

During moments of insanity, I have actually shown him cupcakes and cakes and other Wall-E food products online. Like this.

Or this.

Or maybe this?

There are so many.

Seriously, if you have time, try the links. There's a really good Wall-E cake that looks just like the robot, some cute cupcakes, and a killer Wall-E made out of sushi.

But I am terrified because now Nate's birthday is two weeks away, and we've been looking at all these beautiful baked goods, and all I know how to do is smear icing on a crumbly cake. The more I look at these cakes and all these wonderful cupcakes the more I need to learn how to use fondant. And the more helpless I feel because I know I'll never be able to learn how to use it by the 16th, and even if I DID... well, I've never been artistic. I figure if all I can make out of playdough is a meatball and a snail, I probably don't have that much hope of being able to sculpt a miniature robot out of icing.

I hope the party store has some good Wall-E cake toppers.

I Can See Clearly Now The Rain Has Gone

HEY! So... yesterday's post was a bit of a downer. Sorry about that. Last night the baby slept all night and until almost 8am, so I got a lot of sleep. Especially in the morning, since Steve got up with the kids... I'm getting up with them tomorrow, so they'll all probably wake at 5am again...

A good night's sleep will work wonders. As will a good book. Or a good workout. Today is the first day in a long time that I've felt happy and energetic and hopeful. Optimistic. Good. Hooray for me.

Sleep Rage

Many things about becoming a parent took me by surprise. Spit up, for instance. And Laundry. I mean, I knew there would be laundry, but no so much of it. I guess I figured that, since the clothes were so much smaller... well, who knew?

I also knew about sleep deprivation. I had heard about waking up and putting babies back to sleep, midnight feedings, etc. But I wasn't prepared for just how frustrated I would be waking up at 3am, for the third time that night, to a one-year-old that is no longer breast fed, is eating real food, and who would like the pleasure of my company.

Nicholas was like this. He would wake up eleven times a night as long as I'd go in a sit with him in the rocking chair. I finally had to just let him cry, and it was a painful, irritating, frustrating process. Because at 3am, on twenty minutes of sleep, after a full year of not sleeping through the night... well, it's easy to give in, and I think I should either toss a bottle into the crib ot toss the baby out the window. And after Nick, I thought all babies were like this.

But then there was Nate. I was worried Nate's screaming would wake Nick, but Nate cried only until I walked into the bedroom, and refused to sit with me in the rocking chair. He would pitch his body toward the crib until I put him back to bed. Then he immediately fell asleep. So then I thought babies must be like Nate, and Nick was a freak.

But Andy is now over a year, and he doesn't sleep through the night. He wants a bottle. I allow him one a night. Because he keeps waking up and crying. Hell fall asleep in my arms, and the second I STAND UP to put him down he starts to cry. And he keeps crying as I bury my head under the covers and try to wait it out. And after 30 minutes I give up, go in, let him fall asleep in my arms for 30 seconds, and then it starts ALL OVER AGAIN.

But that's not what I was most unprepared for. No. What I was most unprepared for, and am most frustrated by, are the adds for SLEEP AIDS that are ALL OVER THE PLACE. The ARTICLES about how people NEED MORE SLEEP. The adds for sleep aids usually start out "Do you find it hard to get a good night's sleep? Is it interfering with your day? LUNESTA CAN HELP!" And I really would like to call those stupid sleep aid people and drag them back here so THEY can wake up five times a night. Also, if those people who can't sleep want to drag their behinds over here, I AM able to sleep if someone would just give me a CHANCE.

And those articles... I read one yesterday NOT about how people should sleep MORE, but how they should sleep LATER. Apparently 7am is when people can get most stressed (I know I usually hid my mid-day peak about then), and also "night owls are more creative." Based on the tests they gave. Of course, my question is "what time of day did they give the tests?" And also "how much sleep did the uncreative types get? HOW MANY KIDS DO THOSE 'CREATIVE' PEOPLE HAVE?"



I'm sorry this post is so ranty and rambling. I'm just a little tired. Of it. And just tired.

Andy Attack

Andy can now reach up and grab things from the table, such as silverware, cookies, and uncapped pens.

He now not only can go UP the stairs, he also can go down, but 50% of the time he falls.

He loves to sit on the couch and the bed.

He knows about chocolate, shrimp, and bagels. If you eat anything around him, he will cry until you give him some. Then he's very likely to simply turn around and feed it to the dog.

He loves his toothbrush.

He also loves books. I swear he says "Book." Only when he says it, it sounds more like... "Kugh." He says it often enough when he's waving one around, though, so I'm pretty sure that's what he's trying to say.