Caffeine Free

I require a certain amount of caffeine to make it through the day.

When I was pregnant - both times - I tried giving up caffeine, but it didn't worked. I failed horribly. So I decided to limit the amount of caffeine I took in, instead. One soda a day. Two tops. And some chocolate. Maybe.

When the babies were being mostly breastfed, I also tried to limit caffeine intake. Mostly because I didn't want to keep the babies UP at night, but also because I didn't want any precious sleep time I had to be wasted in TRYING to fall asleep.

Now that Nathan is drinking more formula and eating mushy "food" from a jar I have stopped paying attention to how much soda I have been drinking. All I know is, it's a lot. A lot a lot. All of it loaded with chemicals designed to make me feel good and alert. And for the past few nights I have been up until at least 11pm (I know, early for most, but late for me) watching TV and wondering WHY oh WHY I didn't feel sleepy. It's also making me VERY irritable. That's right - every little thing anyone says makes me want to crumple them up like a scrap sheet of paper and stuff them in the trash can. Awake but tired, wired but irritable... not a pretty picture.

So that's it. I must now go back and wipe the slate clean. One soda per day. Maybe two. Go back to drinking more water. Juice, maybe. Maybe even milk. It will be hard. Detox is always hard... but I hate string up at the ceiling and wondering if I'll be tired the next day.

This is Not a Repeat

Yesterday afternoon, after my glorious facial and massage, after a long late afternoon nap, as we were watching our 4:30pm TV program and I was gearing up for starting our dinner / bath / bad routine... I accidentally dislocated Nick's elbow. Again.

I didn't do it on purpose. I've actually been quite careful to hold him by the upper part of his arm if I'm trying to guide him to a place he may not want to go, and I have stopped lifting him by his arms... It's just that, in this case... he was behind me, on the ottoman, and I was on the floor with Nathan in my lap. And Nick was kicking me in the back of the head, laughing gleefully, and either not hearing or not listening to my requests for h im to stop. So I reached behind me to pull him OFF the ottoman... and apparently I pulled on his arm.

He's better. Three seconds after the doctor squeezed it back into place he was using his arm again and shouting out numbers (one! two! SixSevenEight!) So he didn't evenget X-rays this time. Which is great.

But for crying out loud, it isn't fair. If I send my child to the emergency room I should at least get the luxury of being negligent or loosing my temper. If I remain cool headed and attentive and feed them and clothe them and do their laundry and pick up their toys and make Nick hold my hand when we cross the street, then this sort of thing shouldn't happen. Right? RIGHT? I mean, I simply do not know how to discipline a two year old without touching him or moving him occasionally against his will. It's just not possible. Otherwise he's spend 24 hours a day in front of the TV or in the driver's seat of the car.

the cure for everything

This morning I collected on a gift Steve gave me for something - our anniversary I think. I went to Bein Soignee and got a facial AND a hot stone massage AND my hair got washed and blown dry. Hooray for me!

I was never quite sure I would LIKE a hot stone massage. Frankly, it sounds like a kind of torture. You get undressed and then someone you have never met before will put hot ad cold rocks all over your body. You will lie down on hot rocks. Hot rocks on your face, your feet, your hands, your tummy... Yeah, really relaxing. But you know what? IT IS! The rocks are hot, but not so hot you can't stand it. And whatever. It worked. I left feeling as though I were floating.

So maybe it's not really the cure for everything, but it was the cure for most of MY ills... which is probably just proof that there was nothing wrong with me to begin with.

Bleak House

Today is overcast, but very hot and humid. And I found myself thinking, I know people used to live without airconditioning. Ever. Because it didn't exist. These people... they weren't walking around in string bikinis, either. In fact, for many years they wore lots and lots of clothing. Long sleeves and skirts with layers and undergarments, not to mention corsets. Jackets, stockings, hats... I just can't understand how they did it. No wonder they all died young.

Nathan is just over 27 inches long - over the 75th percentile for height in his age group. And he weights 17.9 pounds. Yesterday he got three new shots and a crayon bandage. When I came home Nick was standing in his diaper in the dining room with his grandmother's keys and a juice cup.

Not much on today's agenda. Mostly it's about keeping cool and keeping sane, and trying not to let the overcast-ness get to me. Yesterday my parents put Cleo down, and I'm a little bit sad about it.

Boy Growing

Everyday one of the kids does something to surprise me.

Nicholas's vocabulary is out of control. Remember the little Nicholas Glossary I printed awhile back? Dat = cat, guk = book, guk = milk, etc? Well it's a bit out of date. It's VERY out of date, in fact. It is SO out of date that I can't even create a corrected version. I need a whole new system to explain the breadth of his vocabulary and how many words the kid knows. He has told many people, including people we met randomly at the town beach yesterday, about his trip to the amusement park, his nightmare, the dog bite, and how his daddy goes on a tractor. He now tells me what he wants to eat, what he wants to wear, and where he wants to sit in the car (never mind that he always ends up in the carseat, he's sure that one of these days I will let him drive.) He is now able to tell me about basic emotions, both for himself and other people. Gunther mad? Boy scared? Mommy funny? Nay Nay wants a nap? And this morning he looked me straight in the eye and said "Boy growing?"

Nathan is also growing and developing. He has his 6 month checkup today, so I'll find out how heavy he actually is and can modify my workout as necessary. But Nathan has also taken recent developmental leaps. For one thing, he is mobile. He doesn't know how, but he can get himself clear across the room by rolling or twirling on his tummy. If I sit him up, he can stay that way for a while. He can even pull himself into a standing position, and I've let him support himself at one of the play tables we have, putting pillows all around in case he falls. I've now officially started giving him teething biscuits, which he just mushes up and spreads around the play yard or the blanket or the carseat... but it keeps him quiet. This morning I tried a sip cup for the first time - a brand new beginner's one. Nick was jealous that Nate got the cute cup. But Nathan didn't seem to care, anyway. He sucked it for a minute or two and then shouted very loudly that he preferred a bottle. And a few days ago Nathan began babbling. Not the cooing, but honest to goodness "DadadadababababBAbabBA!" Nick never really did that, and it's so funny to hear when you're in the middle of a conversation!

Anyway, enough for today. We're looking into getting a new camera, so perhaps new pictures will return soon.

The Trip Home - Part 2

Part 2 - Our Return, or how bodily functions keep me from reaching my destination.

On Sunday morning, after the dog bite incident, after I had been up for 7 hours, had eaten breakfast twice, and had woekn everyone I could think of up before 9am... we finally left. Emily and her friend Chris? Kris? Helped us to the car, which was great because even then we had trouble making it across the street and to the garage.

After driving around town for 20 minutes in the right general direction but never actually getting to the highway because of the stupid street fairs, I finally m ade it to the highway. I kept expecting to relax and settle into the groove of the drive, but instead my head just kept pounding and pounding and pounding. I was VERY upset about Cleo, and about how my husband would react when he saw his son's face (I needen't have worried, but once I start stressing I just keep going.)

I pulled over at McDonalds to get a coffee, thinking that would help me out, but it didn't. My head kept hurting. And then I realized I also had to pee.

Stupidly, I did one of those "I can make it to the next exit" things. Which is great when you are alone, or with other adults, and can then hop out of the car and rush into the rest room. But when you have two small children in car seats STOP EARLY! By the time I could stop again I was almost in tears with fear that I wouldn't actually make it into the rest room. I then had to unstrap Nick, walk him around to the other side of the car, unstrap Nate, walk them across the street with the heavy diaper bag, stand in line, wedge ourselves into a small stall meant for one very skinny person with no diaper bag, and manage to undress myself, go, and redress myself all while holding Nathan and trying to convince Nick NOT to open the door thank you very much.

After changing diapers I stopped by the vending machines, hoping against all hope that one of them would sell Advil or Tylonol, but all they had was soda or candy. I feed wrinkled dollar bills into the machines to get a diet coke and some m&m's for Nick (the candy, not the soda) and the man in charge of the rest stop came over and started chatting, asking about my kids and telling me about his nephews, which was great but I have to say I was NOT in the mood to be friendly. Once in the car I rummaged through my luggare and used the Afrin nose spray I had for the trip OUT, hoping that somehow it would do something for my head ache and we could get HOME.

Then Nate started screaming. He screamed and screamed and screamed. I pulled over to get gas and feed him, and he screamed. He kept screaming and kept screaming and suddenly I had to use the bathroom again (so soon? Yes. I don't get it either) VERY BADLY. But I was determined not to pull over again. I wanted to get home. I didn't want to have to get everyone out and then get everyone back in - each stop added an hour to our drive.

And then it becase exceedingly obvious that Nicholas needed a diaper change, in more than just a superficial way. I had to open the windows until we made it to the next place where I could pull over.

Once I stopped the car I spread a blanket down on the floor. I ended up having to change Nick's entire outfit. I fed Nate the rest of his bottle (which didn't make a difference, as he began screaming the second he finished and was still in the awful car seat.) And I took care of my own needs but you don't need to know any more about that.

For someone who had a good vacation, I have never been so happy to get home in my LIFE.

The end.

The Trip Home - Interlude

The Interlude: I heart My Dog

After our return flight to NYC all I wanted to do was get HOME. I actually thought about just getting into my car and driving home that night. The kids would be tired and would sleep. Traffic would be minimal. And I could sleep in my own bed that night. But by the time we got back to my parent's apartment, I was a walking zombie. I knew I would never make it without rest. So I made a date with my sister for the following morning - I needed help getting both kids and all of our stuff to the parking garage.

The next morning, confused by the previous day of travel and the time change, both boys were awake and ready for the day to begin by 2:30. AM. A large percentage of New Yorkers were probably not even HOME yet from their Saturday night escapades, and my kids decide it's a good time to eat cheerios and scream.

I am not sure exactly how it happened, but around 6:30... one minute I'm scolding Nick for emptying the contents of my wallet onto the coffee table and telling him to come back with my house keys, and the next minute the dog snarls, snaps at him, and Nick is on the floor, his hand clutching his face, screaming.

My parents have a 10 year old dalmation named Cleo. She is a wonderful dog, but is not very sociable. To other dogs, or to people. Especially not children. She has been known to bite, and people are warned to give her her space and not touch her ears. Besides being very nervy, Cleo has allergies to wool, cats, and humans, and she breaks out in a rash frequently and has to be givin steroids. She also has - I think - a tumor or something on her pituary glad, which causes her to be even MORE jumpy, and also to drink a lot of water and pee an average of once every 30 minutes. Don't get me wrong, I love this dog. She's even come up here to run around in our yard and she plays with Gunther... But she's not an EASY dog.

I immediately jumped over to my baby and made sure he was OK. I was picturing an emergency room, stiches, and future scarring... but he's fine. He was very lucky. The bite just missed his eye, and the wound didn't bleed all that much - more of a scrape, really. He was more frightened than anything else. So was I. I called my mother and told her I could not have the dog in the house with my kids, that it wasn't safe, etc.

And that is that. At this point, there is really no one else who would take her. She's on expensive medication and she's a biter. So she's going to be put down. Which is tragic. I feel guilty because I know I might have prevented it if I had been more awake, or had even noticed her sitting there in her chair. At the same time, Nick is my baby, and it could have been worse...

The Trip Home - Part 1

Part one - the flight, or how Delta broke my heart (this is a long story, so it is broken up into different parts. But just so you know, these shorter parts are also very long. Sorry.)

Checking in: The line didn't LOOK very long. However, after fifteen minutes of not moving forward AT ALL we realized that looks could be deceiving. Finally we arrived at the midway point, where a delta employee looked at our passports, and asked us about our bags - who packed them? where have they been? are there any electronic appliances inside? drugs or animals? plants? jam? where did we buy the bags, anyway? We then waited in the second part of the checkout line, where I had a better view of people arguing with the delta employees checking people in.

The first thing the check in lady said when we handed her our itineraries was "You will need to purchase tickets for the infants." I pointed to the itineraries and explained that they had tickets, and indeed they had seats, just as every other passanger on the flight. She looked profoundly dissapointed, but began to cheer up when we placed the stroller on the check in weigh system. She informed me that I couldn't check it in THERE, I had to bring it around to a different location. Then - and this is very interesting - she called another woman over to ask about my suitcase. Now, I packed a heavy suitcase - I am the first to admit it. But I decided that it would be easier to deal with one heavy suitcase and two kids than two medium heavy cuitcases. The checkin lady asked the other woman about the weight of my suitcase "It's for three people," she said. "Does it matter?" But the other woman said "No, it's over, just tell them." As though it were a small matter. They spoke to each other in French, and I'm sure they didn't think I could understand them. I was then informed - in English - that I had to remove seven kilos from my suitcase. No matter that I left sip cups, a camera, baby food and formula, not to mention several bath products and cosmetics behind. My luggage, acceptable at JFK, was too heavy by French standards.

I don't think I would be as upset about it, except that by then I had realized that every other passanger was being asked to either unload weight from their luggage or pay a $100 fee. The arguments and discussions that followed were what was holding up the check in line. I don't think the weight they were asking to be removed would make much of a difference. My feeling was that they were just out to make a buck that day.

I snipped at the ladies as I zipped open the bag and began pulling out plastic bags of dirty laundry, my tioletry bag - I had to remove my fingernail scissors - and the bigger books I had taken along for the boys. These I flung back to my sister and my father for them to stuff in various other carry ons. "I hope you have children one day," I barked," and I hope you get to travel with them." That's about as close as I get to calling someone names - wishing them a mixed blessing. At that point the ladies stopped speaking English to us completely. Which actually didn't make a difference, except that I know they thought it would. No one was at the special place - ten feet away from the check in desk - that they told me to take the stroller. I had to flag down a small man with excellent people skills who took it from me.

Getting to the Plane: I had to take the wheels off the car seats because they didn't have wands at the security check point. It took us 30 minutes to get through the passport check point - I'm not sure why, but I think it had something to do with a small woman in lavendre who wanted to bring extra bags with her or check her bags there or something. We joined the mob of people who pushed pass each other to get on the plane - HELLO PEOPLE! WE HAVE SEATS! THEY WILL NOT DISSAPEAR! Before we got on the plane we were questioned by yet another Delta employee who asked us the same questions about our bags as the firt guy. "Where have your bags been since you arrived at the airport?" she asked. " On line with us," I said.

The Flight: A first class passenger, seated well before everyone else, helped me carry Nathan's carseat to the back of the plane while the flight attendants watched. Emily pressed the call button so that she could get an extention for Nick's carseat, but the flight attendants ignored it. She had to go find one herself. Actually, the flight attendants never once responded to the call buttons, any of the 10 times they were pressed, including the time Nick accidentally pressed it in the bathroom. Once Nathan was screaming and all I needed was water to make formula, but after 10 minutes of no flight attendants in sight I got up to find water myself. I found it in back, in a basket with some rolls. Next to it was a flight attendant reading a newspaper. This was not the same flight attendant that wonked me in the head with the drink cart - an accident, I'm sure, but it still would have been nice to say either "I'm sorry" or "are you ok?"

The rest of the stuff that happened on the flight - Nicholas having a tantrum, needing to change Nick's entire outfit because of a wonderfully timed poop, and my forgetting the plastic bag of dirty laundry on the plane - cannot in any way be blamed on anyone.

That's the end - for now. More complaining to come.

Adieu, Adieu, to yeu and yeu and yeu

Tomorrow we are going home... well, at least to NY. To be honest, part of me is looking forward to getting back to my own house, my own bed, and getting back into a schedule. Not to mention, of course seeing my HUSBAND again! We all miss him very much at this point.

But there is still something very bittersweet about leaving. I have been looking forward to this vacation for so long, and it's just wooshed right by me. I really do hope we get to come back next year - with Steve, of course. There must be a way to make it happen.

I have been packing all morning, trying to track down all of our belongings - the swim toys, the books, the socks, the sippy cups... and then trying to put everything in our suitcase before Nicholas gets the chance to remove each item and put it in an unlikely location. This morning I put the same flip flop in the suitcase 6 times before I found my hair iron on the porch outside. When I dragged it back inside Nicholas was sitting INSIDE the suitcase and had removed the bottle nipples from the ziploc I had put them in, and had returned them to the tupperware container I was using while we were here. Apparently he doesn't really want to go, either.

I think what I want

I could post about many things today. Among the possible topics are my trip to Luna Park, which is now called something else and which is very much different than it was twenty years ago. I could also post about Nick's horrible nightmare, which woke him up screaming at 2am, and a few more times besides, and which he has been referring to all day. Or I could post about my trip to Biot, which I took with my mother, where we got not lost but displaced, and where it took us over two hours to GET there, let alone watch glass being blown and brows the shops.

Instead I would like to post about last night, when we returned from Luna Park-not Luna Park... Emily and I sat up working on this puzzle, and we just laughed and talked and laughed so much about absolutely nothing and it made me giddy. I loved that. Because I don't get to do that with people very much any more, especially not my sisters. Usually visits are too time constrained. And this was nice and fun and I hope I get to do it again soon.

Memories Lost

Here is a list of the photographs I remember taking with my camera - moments lost forever.

- About 47 pictures of a hand holding a spade being stuck through the trash chute in the kitchen counter.

- A wonderful shot of Nathan wearing his baby sunglasses, the only time he's ever worn them unless you count last night when he used them as a chew toy.

- A cute picture of the boys sharing the king bed.

- A couple of pictures of us walking to The Diament for lunch, including a great one of my father pushing the stroller.

- Two great shots of Emily wearing a very tiny black and gold bikini. These were great shots because she was standing in front of the mirror and you got the front AND the rear view.

- A shot of Nicholas on the carousel near the beach.

- A few nice pictures of my father and Nicholas in the water, including a video.


Now even though I don't have the pictures, the moments are captured here. Funny how that works, isn't it?

My Fans! My Fans!

My mother lost the remote control to the ceiling fans in the living room.

First of all, my parents should never be given anything to operate that requires a remote. It's just asking for trouble. Once they left the downstairs TV on for a week because they couldn't find the remote to turn it off. They never thought of unplugging it. And sooner or later ALL remotes will be lost or misplaced or accidentally taken back to NY.

Not to mention the fact that ceiling fans just shouldn't have remotes. Put a switch on the wall - are we so lazy that we can't walk to the wall or pull a chain?

The remote went missing the day before we got here, and ever since we have been living... well... without ceiling fans. And we have been getting by.

But today, suddenly, my mother pointed out that ONE OF THE FANS WAS WORKING! That's right. One of the fans had, by itself, just started working. And so had the other. A thousand horror films streamed through my brain, as well as all the Stephen King short stories I have ever read, but I simply couldn't think of one where ceiling fans had come to life on their own. Cameras, cars, computers, yes, but not ceiling fans.

Then they stopped.

Then there were a few freaky beeping noises, and they started again.

Finally the electrician came and - get this - PUT A CHAIN on one of the fans! Hooray! But for some reason the other still won't work.

Anyway, that was the excitement for the day. We now have a working fan, which is cool (ha ha) and I am out of words.

Mama don't take my digital camera...

Yesterday morning I discovered my bag and my mother's bag on the back steps, the contents - including credit cards, passports, and baby diapers - strewn in the dirt. Apparently, with people coming and going at night, we were not as careful as we needed to be about security. Here's a nice bit of information - just because you are in the house and awake doesn't mean someone won't enter your house and walk around it until you fall asleep.

Then the person that entered your house may take the cash from your wallet and toss your purse out the window. They will take the digital camera you left in your purse with all of your vacation photos on it. They will take your father's laptop - how they missed this one is a huge mystery. And they will instill in you a feeling of helpless ness, frustration, and creepiness because, really, how long were they IN this house before the took off? Was I awake? Alseep? Did they open the door to my bedroom and see me and my children sleeping?

We are now locking all doors, including some internal doors. We are then shutting the keys up in drawers and locking THOSE drawers, and then sleeping with those keys sewn into the hems of our nightclothes. OK, fine, maybe nothing THAT extreme, but you get my drift. It's really easy to let one's guard down, especially on vacation. And that camera... that's how I got most of the pictured onto this blog. Not to mention the safety of my babies.

How The Girls Are Doing It

I have always been amazed at how effortless summer garb comes to some women. You know the ones I'm talking about. These are the girls that are always in shape and don't seem to worry about how they will look in their swimsuits. They are able to don flip flops without worrying about their feet or toenail polish. They either don't need bras or they have magical summer-wear that does the job for them. And they also seem to have no problems whatsoever with shorts - and my that, I mean leg hair.

I have always had an issue with leg hair. I know, I know, this post is getting personal - please just stay with me. I used to shave my legs. With some people, thi is enough. They shave their legs and they are good for two or three days. Well, they are probably natural blonds with pony tails that look like a rat's tail. Not me. I am hairy by nature. I have a huge head of hair. And I have lots of hair on my legs. I am the only person I know that gets five o'clock shadow on my legs. And I NEVER get that smooth, hairless look because my hairs are so dark and my skin so pale that, when shaving, you can see the hairs under the skin, waiting to peek out.

A few years ago I began waxing my legs. I used to go to a salon to get it done, but then I just started doing it myself every few weeks. The trouble with waxing is that you get a few days of being able to wear shorts or skirts without worry, and then the hairs starts growing out again, and then you have to wait 2 more weeks before being able to get it done again. Nevertheless, I subscribe to this method of hair removal because it eliminates the "hair under the skin" problem I associate with shaving. I end up wearing long pants a lot, even in summer, or just hoping people are not looking at my legs.

The other day, walking to the beach, I saw a daisy chain of girls - five or six of them - sitting on the bench outside the public toilets. These girls were either in their late teens or early twenties, and these are the girls you find wearing tank tops and sundresses effortlessly. Over their perfect tans. Each of these girls had a leg draped over another, and each held a pair of tweezers. Each girl was studying the leg on their lap and very carefully plucking out individual hairs. So THIS is how they do it, I thought! I have discovered the secret to perfectly groomed legs! However, I don't think I will be hopping on this bandwagon anytime soon. I think the tweezer method would take to long. At least on me. Not to mention the fact that I would need five friends to pluck their legs with me, and I don't think these would be easy to find.

Beach Brain

I simply cannot focus enough to write anything these days. I don't know how people come to this part of the country and get inspired... Actually, that's a lie. I can see very well how people who come here get inspired. But then I don't see how they can get past that and actually DO anything with the inspiration. I would have to take a bunch of pictures and then go back home before I could settle down enough to work on my novel, or my painting, or what have you.

It's different here from when I was a kid. I used to use sunscreen for the first week of my vacation, using the smallest number I could find - I think it was 4. Then I would grab a book and lay out in the sun, trying to achieve that bronze look. Instead I just got freckles, and now I have a billion moles for my pains.

These days I am putting sunscreen on five times a day. I never leave the house without a hat and sunglasses. If I go to the beach there is no soaking in the sun, just cavorting in the water for a small time. And forget about the books - I have three books I took from home and I'm still reading the first one because I rarely get the chance to read more than half a page at a time.

I am enjoying this vacation very much. But I miss Steve.

It's Good To Have A King... bed

I have a King sized bed here. I love king sized beds because it gives you so much room to roll around. They are pretty cool that way.

The thing is, I am sharing this king bed with two other people. Two SMALL people, but let me just explain how this works... the smaller the person, the more room they need.

I woke up at 5am with Nathan glued to one side of me and Nicholas glued to the other. They each had three feet of matress on the other side of them, but for some reason they both felt the need to be close to ME. So close that I couldn't roll over or shift or get the blood flow to return to my arm.

Also, there will be no pictures... Hey Steve - I think I left the cable that connects my camera to a computer in the guest room where I was packing... oh, well! I have an extra card, so all my photos will make it home. THEN I'll post them, OK?

Words words words

I still haven't played around and tried to download photos to this computer. So today's post is still JUST WORDS. Those of you who tune in simply for the daily photo can now excuse yourselves.

I am a bit affected by the time change, and I can't really focus my thoughts, so today you get random and unconnected thoughts. Now don't you wish you had left with the photo people when you had the chance? Too late now. Now it would be rude.

It's hot. I should have packed more of my tank tops, except they make me look like a skanky teen... or a middle aged woman trying to look like a skanky teen, which is worse.

I need to go shopping today for baby food and baby wipes and diapers and diaper cream... and possibly bug stuff.

I got to sleep until 9am today. Hooray! Of course, that's 3am in the states...

Nathan sleeps better in the big bed with us. And there's enough room, so...

I still have a cold.

Did I mention it was hot?

This place is a lot less childproofed than our house. Nick has already scribbled on one of the windows with a crayon.

I need a drink of water.

I will try to download some pictures today.

Warmish Welcome

We are here!

The flight was amout what I expected. There were peridos of calm, and periods where both boys were screaming their little heads off and I simply could not be in two places at once. Once we arrived we went through customs and got our luggage with no problems. And then I got the car I rented, which was NOT a large automatic, as I requested, but instead a car the size of our mower tractor - now I know cars are smaller here, but I specifically said I needed to be able to fit two car seats in this thing, and we did, but we never would have been able to take our luggage as well. Nick's knees were up near Emily's shoulders and Nathan was wedged in his car seat in the back...

The relief at getting here and being able to relax a bit is indescribable. We went to lunch at the little place by the beach, and then, weary from travel and rose, ready for naps, we came home...

only to realize that neither of my parents had the house key with them.

That's right. We were locked out of the house.

We circled the house looking for a way in. My sister went looking for a bobby pin. A bunch of us tried reaching the window lock through the garbage chute. And I took some nice pictures I will share with the internet later.

Finally my dad broke a kitchen window with a bocce ball wrapped in a tarp found in one of the cars, Emily climbed in, and the doors were then open from the inside.

Never a dull moment, really!

Yesterday I drove down to New York with the boys. They were great on the drive down. And ever since we've got here they have been clingy and into EVERYTHING! Already Nick thinks the bidet is his own personal sink, and he has taken off ALL of his clothes TWICE. Just this morning. Even his diaper. I leave the room for 30 seconds and come back to a naken child, and all I can think is "please don't pee please don't pee please don't pee."

Here's a fun link to hear some songs by my sister EMILY. I'm also putting a link on this page with the other links... maybe. If I can remember how... OK, things are showing up funny on this computer so I CAN'T post the link... look for it with the others. Maybe that will work better. Now I have to go pull Nick off the fax machine.

On your marks... Get set...

My life is all about getting ready to go. I'm just tying up a few loose ends. Does anyone else think it was too early to strap the kids into their carseats?

Just kidding, of course. I took the carseats inside to try them out and practice putting putting the wheels up and down on the Sit'n'Stroll. I also practiced putting the GoGoKidz on Nick's regular carseat. I am trying both of these out, comparing them to one another, and I will let you all know how they work out. I know you are all holding your collective internet breaths.

ANYWAY, Nick was so excited at having the carseat in the house that he sat in it and refused to get out. He sat quietly, watching Noggin, and cried when I tried to unfasted his safety harness. Go figure. Usually he cries when I try to do it up.

I will try to post from France, but I don't know how it's going to work from there. I might be able to get words in but not pictures... I might not be able to get anything up at all. I will do my best!

Passport

It's official.

I am holding in my hand a passport that belongs to NATE THE GREAT, NATO POTATO, NAY NAY, DROOLSTER!

so THIS is what breathing was like!

pitcher of water down mail chute - CHECK

In taking stock of the things I need to do before I leave, I'm actually in pretty good shape. The things I CAN do have been done. I'm waiting until tomorrow to do a few others - like change the cat litter and buy a lot of frozen pizza for Steve. I'm now trying to find a few other things to do so that I won't keep finding small items to shove into my suitcase.

I wanted to say something about yesterday's Sisyphus post. I realized a while ago that I complain a LOT on this blog, and that I could have named it "WHY NOT TO HAVE KIDS" and not be too far off the mark. BUT, it's not my intention. So I'm posting this link to the sisyphus myth as told and explained by Albert Camus. He imagines Sisyphus happy at his task, and also says "happiness and absurd are two sons of the same earth."

In other words, if I didn't have crazy nights where I hardly slept, and if I didn't wipe noses and change diapers and wander around like a zombie, I would not be having as much fun. OK, fine, not at that particular MOMENT. But it is kind of funny, a day later. Plus, I love my kids so much, and I wouldn't DO those crazy things if I didn't have this crazy insane stronger than you could even imagine emotion.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm happy. I'm crazy. I'm really tired, but given my choices, I'd rather be tired this way than not tired without kids.

Thank you very much, and have a nice day.

Sisyphus

Last night I had everything ready. Anything that I could do to prepare myself, I did. I did a load of wash and put it in the dryer before bed. I mixed a huge batch of formula. I was ready to go. Won't it be nice, I thought, when we wake up tomorrow and I won't have to rush to get these things done? I won't have to listen to the baby fuss while I make the formula, I can just mix it in the cereal! I can fold these clothes whenever I want! I have just given myself a the gift of time. How nice and relaxed it will be tomorrow.

And then Nate woke up every 2 hours - probably because of his cold. And Nick woke up screaming with a nightmare - twice. The first time I realized I was hungry, and since we ate a very early dinner the day before I went and got him a cracker and he went back to sleep. Then I heard some animal howl and I had to wander the house looking for Puck, who has spent a couple of nights outside by accident and now has a dore nose and ear. I found him, so he was fine. I also found some cat puke by stepping right in it. Then Nick woke for the second time and I just crawled into bed with him so I could get some sleep. But after a few minutes Nate woke up. I fed him, put him back to sleep... and creeped back to my own bed. But before sleep could really take hold, Nick began screaming again. So back to his bed. Nate woke up at 4:30am, and refused to go back to sleep. I tried nursing him, sleeping with him... he did his Karate Kid impression (Latch on, Latch off) and when I tried to just sleep he kicked me in the belly, scratched at me, and pulled my hair. He didn't mean to be mean, but COME ON!

And of course Nick slept until 6am for the first time in three weeks, but I couldn't take advantage because I had this Baby that wanted... what? What did he want? I have no earthly idea.

It never ends. As soon as I feel that I have accomplished something it needs to be done again. If I do dishes, there will be dishes waiting an hour later. Laundry? The same. I'll buy or cook food and it will be gone. I'll clean and it will get dirty. I change a diaper and an hour later will have to change it again. So today I'm asking myself WHAT IS THE POINT!

The good thing is, I was up so much last night that I only had time for ONE panic dream about Nate's passport.

HAPPY 4th of JULY

There are three things I wanted to post about today, so instead of one big post you'll get three smaller ones SMOOSHED together.

#1 - Complaining Post: It isn't even 7am yet and I've been up for almost 2 hours. I had to change Nick's bed sheets because his diaper leaked. I thought I was being so organized by bringing the boy's clothes downstairs and by trying to make a huge batch of formula in the morning so I wouldn't have to make it 3 times during the day, but then I realized - after 11 scoops of formula, that there were black specks floating in the water. Nick wanted toast instead of waffles. And as I was spooning oatmeal into Nate's mouth I realized it was goopy with baby snot because his nose was so runny.

#2 - Nastalgic Post: I love the 4th of July because it always reminds me of the musical 1776, and if you ask me it's a work of genius - who would have thought you could make a musical out of the Declaration of Independence? And it fostered my love for John Adams. Despite which I still could not make it all the way though his autobiography.

#3 - Hair Post: Here are before and after pictures of my hair. It's not the hair, but don't I look like Emily in the after photo? Don't I? DON'T I?

They call it humidity

Remember when I said I found Nick in the crib with Nate? Here is is.

In other news... it is very humid. Humidity really is awful. It makes heat so much harder to live with.

I never used to sweat until I started working out about 10 years ago. Or maybe it had nothing to do with working out and had to do with being an adult. In any case, I remember my surprise at how wet I was, and the salt coating my body. Needless to say, I began showering more.

With the humidity, I feel that I need to shower twice a day - like my brother Winston. In fact, I would probably live in the bathroom, showering, getting dressed, and then just showering again because that's how long I feel clean. In this humid weather.

It really is crazy - the pages of my books feel different. They are all slightly damp. Doors swell shut and it takes two people to open them. One of the doors to the boy's room gets stuck before it closes all the way, so there is an inch gap at the top, but you still have to yank on it to open it. Food... don't get me started at how fast food goes bad. And the pet hair... OK, I guess technically pet hair has nothing to do with humidity, but the pets are shedding like crazy. I am now brushing them every week - sometimes more. And yet, each time we open a door clumps of pet hair drift by, testimony to my poor housekeeping.

Fates Conspire

Last night, as Steve and I watched KING KONG, an awful noise came over the baby monitor. It was a rough, rasping sound. A cough. Nick coughing, actually.

This morning he sounds even worse. HE isn't coughing a lot, and by that I mean he isn't coughing too often. So it's easy to forget about it. But as he threw his morning temper tantrum when I actually had the gall to try and change his soggy diaper, he began making this other sound... whenever he inhaled he would make what sounded like a... like a honk, almost.

I am pleading with him to drink his juice, which I secretly laced with vitamins and Tylonol Cough medicine. I made sure he was wearing sweatpants as the air was chilly this morning. And I am considering enforcing a longer nap time, which may prove inconvenient and impossible. And I am trying to put some space between him and his brother.

But Nicholas needs to get better because we leave on vacation next Saturday. We have no passport for Nate. I can't pack more than 3 items at a time. I have a billion things I promised myself I would do before we go. But we will be leaving. Somehow. Even if I have to give him cough medicine as we get on the plane. Even if he's miserable on the trip over.

I need him to get well.

If anyone hasn't seen King Kong yet but was thinking about it... it is 3 hours long. I have no patience for movies that are 3 hours long when there are scenes and parts of scenes that could so obviously have been cut out. And some movies can make you forget how long they are because they are so engaging. This is not one of those movies.

Through the Looking Glass

"In another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly down into the Looking-glass room."

I got that directly from my copy of Through The Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll. I last read the story as a Teenager, and I loved it. The only copy I have in The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll which used to belong to my mother, before she was married. Apparently she was living on 16th St. in NY, at least according to the address in the front cover. In any case, the book is older than I am.

I feel as though I am through the looking glass myself. I can't seem to figure out Blogger. Yesterday I thought I posted a post with no pictures, but when I checked it out on another browser, I had apparently posted five photos of Nate's bum in his smiling ducky outfit. When I use my usual browser I can't see this picture at all. When I use The browser that came with the computer I can see it, but when I look at the "compose" section I can't see the picture, only html code. I can't see it any other way. And when I posted a photo this morning on that browser, it wouldn't actually POST it. Plus, while posting it it wouldn't let me see the pictures, only the names, and they are all something like DCjpg10078, and who KNOWS what that it, so it turns out I posted a previously posted photograph, and who needs THAT!
So I went back to the Firefox browser and I posted a picture that I can't see, but I hope you can.

Puck, melancholy after returning from his trip outdoors, is now packing up and moving out.

I am already packing for our trip to France. Not only is this in my nature, trying to be prepared, but I have a feeling I will need to do my packing at 5 minutes spurts. I f I take any longer Nich starts removing the items from the bags, and next thing I know he's walking around with an empty suitcase and our vacation is stuffed under the bed.

Yesterday I Liked...

When I was a kid in school every english class would start by filling out the "Yesterday I Liked" sheet, where you had to write a sentence about... something you liked.

Yesterday I put a half naked Nicholas and a very soggy Nate into the car so that I could deposit Steve's paycheck. Halfway there, Nathan began laughing. It wasn't the small, googling noises he usually makes. It was one of those deep belly laughs that he gives only when he realizes that this, this thing he's laughing at? It's REALLY FUNNY! When I leaned over to see what he was looking at, he was looking right at Nick. Nick was looking back at him, slightly surprised, but still smiling. And then HE laughed. And then Nate laughed again. They went back and forth like that for the rest of the trip, and it was one of the greatest moments in my life.

Yesterday I also called the passport office. The lady on the phone was very nice. She was sympathetic when I said Nate was born in November instead of January and told me I should get used to having a fried brain now that I had a baby. I assured he that I had a two yearold and that my brain had been replaced with a huge marshmallow. She assured me she was expediting the passport processing, that it should be express mailed to me today, and to call back Wednesday if I don't have it by then.

Yesterday Lillian came by in the morning and I went to this salon I like and I got my hair cut. It was a wonderful experience. The woman cutting my hair was nice. She spoke to me about her little boy instead of her soon-to-be-single husband. The other people there were relaxed and friendly and were not mall rat clones. And I actually got my hair cut. Before and after photos will be posted shortly.

I'm trying to post a photo, but I don't think it's working. WHY, blogger? WHY WHY WHY?

Passport Problems

OK, so the one thing you need to travel to Europe is... not luggage, not sunscreen, not even a wheely car seat... besides a plane ticket... yes, that's right, a passport.

Guess which one of us still has no passport?

That's right, Nathan.

In order to travel internationally, little baby Nathan had to get his picture taken. Steve and I made a date to meet at the Post Office where they took Passport applications. It was pouring rain, and by pouring I mean BUCKETS of water were flung down to earth at the count of three. I forgot my checkbook, but Steve happened to have ONE CHECK on him. The whole process left us angry and frustrated with each other the same we we get frustrated with each other doing things like putting the plow on the truck or moving large furniture.

And we still have no passport for him.

It's supposed to come in the mail, but it hasn't yet. I feel stupid because I didn't expedite the process, and felt we had PLENTY of time, and I was sure it would get here... but we have one week left - a holiday week at that - and I am not sure what to do. I could call the passport place, but I seem to remember a warning on the website saying it may make the process even LONGER if they have to search for it...

What should I do? Please, please tell me what to do! I refuse to alter my vacation plans because of this, and I just don't know if Nate will fit in my carry-on.

bwess you mommy

Nick has a cold - AGAIN. And of course I'm doind the usual "chasing round the room with a cloth trying to stop the flow of snot from nose." It's as if someone turned on a faucet, and I know it bothers him a lot.

Anyway, yesterday, for the first time, I saw Nick put his hand in front of his mouth while sneezing. Considering the number of colds he gets, this is HUGE. I can't tell you how many times he just sneezes point blank on me or Steve or his brother or the hamburger helper I have just made for family dinner. We are encouraging him to repeat this hygenic action. We're also stressing all sorts of manners. Please, which he just doesn't say. Thank you, where he either says "you're welcome" or "so much." And I'm also trying to teach him that it isn't polite to butt people with his head.

Nick has also said a couple of COMPLETE SENTENCES. Ok, they were small complete sentences, but complete. Once, as he was trying to lug a portable stereo up the stairs, he turned to me and asked "Will you help me?" and I was so touched by the fact that he asked for help without a tantrum AND did it using so many words strung together that I forgot I was upset he was playing with the CD player and helped him.

The other day Steve was headed downstairs to his office and I was trying to get Nick downstairs for lunch, and Steve took off out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Nicholas let out a scream and then shouted, crying, "Daddy! Wait for me!" I opened the door and Standing there with this look on his face, a look that said " I know I was going to just leave, but how could I resist THOSE WORDS coming out of MY BOY?"

Sleep Cycle

By far the most stressful part of the day is putting the boys to sleep. The rest of the day I'm fine. I am calm and happy and I feel that I do a pretty good job juggling activities and errands and fun stuff for Nick to do. But no matter how happy and calm and at peace with the world I am when I put the boys to bed, by the time they are actually both asleep I can feel the frustration crawling under my skin, and I know I'm about to spontaneously combust.

Nick usually goes upstairs peacefully enough, although he's sad about it. And I can get him into the bed. I read stories while I feed Nathan, and that's a challenge because I don't have a free hand to turn the pages, or even to hold the book, and Nick is often very squirmy, rolling around, digging under the covers, poking Nate in the head...

And then, once I turn the light out, the true test begins. Nick hops out of bed. He turns on the light. He climbs over the baby gate. He climbs into the crib. If Nathan's asleep, he often get a rude awakening as Nick falls on top of him in the crib. If I leave the room I am on edge because I don't want Nate to wake up or Nick to hurt himself, which he does a lot by falling off the rocking chair or the bed. I've taken to sitting and reading as the boys fall asleep, but Nick things this is funny. Last night he would see how far he had to dangle a limb out of the bed before I would tell him to get back to bed. He would stand up in bed and just LOOK at me. He would rush to turn on the light and then rush back to bed. He was being a little devil. A pain. A two-year-old.

I don't know what to do about it. I get upset no matter what I do. I keep taking Nate out of the room, but I feel bad because I feel that Nate should be allowed to learn to sleep in his crib before I have to have fights with HIM about it...

ANd last night, after one final good-night, I closed the door and kept my teeth clenched in anticipation of some noise or thump or crying... and nothing happened. ANd when I finally went in to check on them the light were all on, and Nick wasn't in his bed. He was in the brib, with Nate. And they were both asleep.

When Nate gets to the point where he can roll over easily and sit up, I'm just going to let them share a bed.

20 Questions

Yesterday we went to The Butterfly Place. It was really neat, and a little scary. It took all of 15 minutes, but there really are so many butterflies. And they are up close. One of them landed on Steve's hat. There's no pretending they aren't insects, either. Their little legs were all over the place. But it was kind of cool to have them flying in front of you, above you, behind you... blue, orange, pink, any color you can think of. I think we'll be going back when the boys are older and won't have to be confined to a stroller.

Remember my BzzzThingy, the thing I joined that may or may not be scamy? Well, they sent me some links so that I can play this game online - Twenty questions. They want to create this handheald game, but they need help getting the Artificial Intelligence to "learn" as much as it can. It's actually pretty neat, even though it may have a lot to learn. Here are the links so you guys can check it out. It's fun! It's free! It beats another game of solitaire. And the more you play, the more the game is "learning" so it should get better over time. You can play the Sports version, the TV/Movie version, or the Music version, and I have to warn you the music version is just rock/pop. You have to think of a person/place/thing, and the game will ask you questions.

Let me know what you think!

looking for a cure

Yesterday, after my salon incident, I moped all day long, periodically weeping, until I managed to get enough caffeine into my bloodstream to balance out my hormone levels.

I have to apologize for my over reacting. As Steve himself said at one point, it was just a hair cut. To explain, I really had planned this weeks in advance. I planned it for a Saturday, so Steve could watch the boys. I avoided the weekend before his birthday and Father's Day. I really thought this through. And if I had just clarified one stupid thing at the start of the appointment it wouldn't have happened. I guess I still over reacted.

Anyway, I've fixed it. Another hair appointment is already scheduled - at a different place. Lillian said she would come up and watch the boys. All shall be mended, and the earth will keep on spinning.

Also, this is what Nate looks like every single time we feed him "solid" food. That's twice a day of a face that looks like this.

A pony "tale" of a different color

This is a picture of me in December of 2002. Its a picture of the me I've secretly been trying to get back to - physically, I mean. Pre-kids, pre-pregnancy, and only 6 months into my marriage. So I decided I'd get my hair cut. After all, I hadn't had a haircut since Nick was 4 weeks old... that's about 2 years now. My hair is the longest it's ever been. And don't I deserve some pampering? I'm going on vacation - I had images of a cute, skinny me with cute, sassy hair running around with my kids in the sun.

I had a hair appointment scheduled for today, and it was a total disaster. How bad? Do I have blue hair? A mohawk? Am I bald? No... actually... Actually my hair looks EXACTLY THE SAME.

That's right. I showed up on time for my 9am appointment and made a mistake RIGHT AWAY. I didn't confirm waht I was having done. I figured TAMMY, the woman who I was trusting my hair to, would know what she was doing. TAMMY plunged right into the color I had asked for. Now, I don't usually get my hair colored. I have a great natural color - almost black. But I've been noticing a few white hairs in there, and I thought I would splurge. TAMMY kept telling me my hair was SO DARK, like is was a problem I should have fixed earlier. Then she suggested a natural brown, a couple of shades lighter. I said fine.

While she pulled my hair out my the roots and applied a noxious smelling goop to my head she talked to me about her husbad, who lost her paycheck and who didn't want her to go back to work after they had kids and who, she told me, she was probably going to divorce once her kids were "old enough." She told me about her mother in law who is manipulative and cries and who compares her to her sister in law. The she left me sitting for an hour while she put foils on another customer.

All the other women there were getting foils. They were all wearing cute apris and tank tops,. They all had on lipstick and eyeliner. They were all trendy and cute. I had an hour to look right into a mirror without my hair framing my face and observe the yellowish tint to my skin, the moles and the freckles, and the slight mustash that made me look like a feminine Gomez Adams. I listened to the chatter, to the conversation, and all the girls were talking about their boyfriends, their husbands, their dates, and fights with co-workers... I have never been able to say the things they were saying. I have never been able to talk to complete stranger about my ex-boyfriends, even if she was giving me a medusa foil do.

Anyway, the rest of the appointment was just awful. TAMMY handed me the blow dryer to dry my hair myself. It turned out they didn't have me down for a cut, only a color. My hair looks exactly the same as it did before 90 minutes in awful smelling hair goop, only now parts of my scalp are brown. No trendy look for me. Not even a blow dry, I just smell like ammonia. This is what I get for trying to be like everybody else.

I was so upset I cried all the way home. I had scheduled this Saturday appointment weeks in advance, and I was really looking forward to a new cut. To short hair. I didn't expect not to get it. I was supposed to feel good about myself, to feel special, and instead I felt icky and dumpy and so out of it. I felt unimportant. I felt, quite frankly, that when I walked out of the salon all the lipstick girls would roll their eyes and wonder how I could be so incompetent.

I really do want a hair cut. But I don't want to go back to a salon like that ever again. Betsy - I'm going to do what you do and just cut my own hair, OK?

My Mother, My Self

We used to make fun of my mother for her inability to remember our names. I mean, she knew who we were, but chances were, when it came time to address me in conversation, she would end up stringing together five or six names, inevitably calling me by my father's name, the dog's name, and quite often she called me Frances.

I didn't mean to give both my kids "N" names. It happened by accident, and then we decided we didn't care. But lately I have been calling the boys by each other's names. When both of the boys are with me I can cover it up - I mean, they are both so small. But sometimes, when Nate is sleeping, I call Nick Nate. And that's not so great, because as per yesterday's post, he's already having identity issues.

It's not just names, either. I posted some time ago about how Steve put Nate's diaper on Nick, and how I've almost done the same thing myself. Well, here are a few things I've done just recently that are even crazier than diaper mis-identification. I squirted a dropperful of Nick's flouride supplement into Nate's mouth and only noticed because he happily spat it out. I tried putting Nick's sandals on Nate's feet, and it took me some fumbling trying to get them to STAY before I realized the feet were WAY too small. And yesterday, while both boys were fussing and crying, I grabbed a pacifier in a fit of desperation, and after a few frustrating seconds realized I was trying to pop it into NICK'S mouth - Nick doesn't use a pacifier anymore - he hasn't for over a year. And we tell him he doesn't need one when he picks up Nate's. And there I was, trying to force one into his mouth... he was avoiding me, which is why I couldn't get it in, and the look on his face clearly said "Mom? You in there? You crazy?"

Baa Baa Black Sheep

What you can' tell from this photo is just how SMALL this little lamb is. It lives at the farm we visited the other week, but I couldn't manage to feed it. The bigger sheep and the alpacas swarm anyone who looks like they might have food and the little guys can't compete.

So far today is cool (of course it's only 8am), and I have an optimistic outlook, probably because Nathan slept through the night until 5:15 am, and I did a load of wash yesterday without creating a wading pool in the laundry room (was I imagining the water on the floor?), plus I have to say I was really encouraged by yesterday's comments. I was really feeling down and incompetent, and you, you people who comment, you let me know that, well, it's OK to feel incompetent. Because kids scrape themselves and you can't do anything about it. So I've decided to approach it the same way I do the pet hair situation. I can't do anything about it. So I just tell myself it builds character and boosts the immune system. The same with treadmill related injuries.

I do have a general question, though. I took my fair share of education classes, including child development and education psychology. But I can't seem to remember anything about when a child should call himself by his own name. When I call Nicholas, he responds. But he calls himself BOY. If he sees his reflection, or a photograph of himself, he calls it "boy." If you say you are going upstairs and he wants to come, he says "Boy too!"

I'm not overly concerned about it, but every once and awhile I wonder if I'm raising a serial killer or someone with a split personality. You know - one is named Nicholas and the other is BOY.

Deja-Vu All Over Again

Remember how, in yesterday's post, I said I was going to turn my mood around and we were going to have a happy, heathly, and at least partially comfortable day?

Ha!

Well... it started out really well. I got a load of laundry in, I packed the kids up and we went to a park. Nick got to see one of his little friends, and he didn't fall asleep on the way home, so I had real hopes of his taking a nap and my getting a run in.

Unless the washer has a cycle where water is SUPPOSED to pool out onto the floor, I'm pretty sure our washer is broken. Our new washer, less than 2 years old. Which we replaced because water was pooling all over the floor. This is bad. I don't think anyone knows just how much laundry I do. I do a load practically every day. 5 or 6 loads a week. If I skip two days I end up with a disaster, where we run out of clothing or towels or sheets. So... I don't know what we will do.

Then Nick wouldn't nap. He played and played and played in his room, switching on lights, climbing in and out of the crib... and I just couldn't figure out WHY? He was exhausted at the park! I could hardly keep him awake at lunch! I was offering him time to rest! How could he spend 90 minutes bouncing off the walls? So I did what I said I'd never do just so I could get a run in. I took him downstairs to watch a Pooh video while I ran for 10 minutes.

NEVER RUN ON A TREADMILL WITH A CURIOUS TWO YEAR OLD IN THE ROOM! I belted him into a little chair, but it didn't matter. While I was running he either fell or stuck his hand on the treadmill and he scraped his hand and his arm. "Scraped" makes it sound so minor, and his arm is hardly hurt at all, but the skin came clean off part of his hand. It's awful. I know it's painful. I know it' my fault 100%, worse than dislocating his elbow because I never thought anything might happen by holding his hand, but I KNEW it was unsafe to use a treadmill with a child in the room. I considered going to the doctor, but I honestly... I feel like I've lost my ability to know what's doctor-worthy. I've called the doctor so many times to be told to just use a band-aid or give him Tylonol or use a humidifier... a broken arm is one thing, but a scrape that isn't bleeding, that is just really painful... well, what would they do?

I put a bandage on it and Neosporin and I gave Nick Tylonol. I decided to wach it, to make sure he starts using his hand, and that the sore spot doesn't get too red or inflammed. Then I got to go shopping with him, because we needed food so that we could actually eat. And of course Steve has been lecturing me and lecturing me ever since he got home, and I can't say I blame him... He's afraid I've become one of those women who drown their kids. What he doesn't understand is that I was trying to get a workout so I wouldn't BECOME one of those women who drown their kids. And it worked well, don't you think? So, so well? Can you just hear the sarcasm dripping off my fingers, onto the keyboard and into the internet space this blog occupies?

So much for my attempt at making things right. I just seemed to make them wronger. And... and... I guess I really don't have anything more to say. Except that, if the boys would just nap when they were supposed to then everything would be just FINE, but there's nothing I can do and I feel so helpless and frustrated and out of control of the events in my life and guilty for Nick being so hurt and I just wish we could stay in bed today and read.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Yesterday was just awful... and um... Yesterday was just awful.

It was hot. We stayed at the library as long as we could. I tried to get the boys to nap in the den, but Nick was too excited and kept scrambling all over everything, until I put him in his hot bedroom. I had to close the doors, because he climbs over the baby gates. He climbs into the crib. He climbs onto the changing table, where he switches the baby monitor on and off. He can also now reach the light switch, and as soon as I leave the room the lights go on.

Anyway, I found him in the crib, so drenched with sweat I thought he had a leaky diaper. But no, he was just very, very sweaty. I tried putting the boys in the kiddie pool - I even sat in it with them (I'm a step ahead of you there, Linda!) But Nick just sat on the ground and cried, loudly, until I broke down and brought us back inside before the neighbors could call social services. ("She's forcing him to be outside in this heat!" they would say. "Quick, take him away and place him with a family in Northern Canada!") We sat in the den, in the air conditioning, but I couldn't figure out how to make a movie play up there, and our cable will currently only give us 3 channels in that room, and I wasn't about to watch Home Shopping or some talk show with my kids.

I took them in the car to mail the netflix movies, and I spilled my Dr. Pepper all over the car. I realized we had nothing to make for dinner except frozen pizza and a salad. I then realized the salad had gone brown. Nick screamed when I tried to give him a bath. Nate cried when he had trouble falling asleep. Nick woke Nate up when I was putting HIM down, and then I had to sit there until both boys were asleep so I wouldn't have to close the doors and cut off their air supply.

So this morning, when the breeze coming through the window was just a bit too cool, I could feel every muscle in my body relax. Today is when I turn things around and get things in order again. I will stop dripping things. The boys will let me put them down for more than 5 minutes at a time, and they will find something to do other than watch TV.

We're going to the park.

Les Miserables

You know what they say, it's not the heat... it's the humidity. Yesterday it only got to 93. But it felt like it was 102. And I'm not kidding.

And we do not have air conditioning.

It's one thing when you're a grown up and it's just you and you're hot because at least you know you're hot and you can always just take a cold shower or sit in air conditioning or go to the movies...

It's something completely different when you have two babies stripped down to their diapers with heat rash all over their little tummies, whining and crying, refusing to eat anything, and unab;e to sleep because it's SO HOT. Honestly, I felt bad I was making them wear diapers. It was that hot. After Nathan spat out all of his rice cereal I made Steve take them upstairs to the den, which is not childproof at all and which is also always dark because that's where the screen and the projector is and we usually just go there to watch movies. BUT, it is the ONLY air-conditioned room in the house. I then fed Nick an ice-cream sandwich on the micro-fiber recliner chairs and we put in an Alfred Hitchcock film. When I finally felt the boys HAD to go to bed, I sat down and read them 6 books, trying to lull them off to sleep. Usually I read one book and then shut the door to keep Nick in there, but I was afraid they would die from lack of oxygen to the brain. So I kept reading.

And of course they were both up a couple of times during the night. So was Steve. Because not only do kids have a hard time sleeping hot nights, but grown ups do, too.

It is hot today, too. I am planning on dragging the kids to the library so that we can be cranky somewhere with central air.

Isn't it funny? I think last week I was complaining about the cold and the rain. And today I'm planning on pitching a tent inside the freezer.

Goat Whisperer

Happy Father's Day to my wonderful husband.

And while I'm at it, I can't forget this guy.

Sacrifices

Saturday is my day to sleep in.

Every other day of the week I get up at 6am - or 5am, if you look at the past month. I get up and change diapers and fix rice cereal and peel a banana for Nicholas. I hate bananas. so much.

But today is a Saturday, and it is 7am. And I am awake and posting on my blog. WHY?

Because tomorrow is father's day. It's on a Sunday, which is my usual day to get up. On Mother's day Steve woke up with the kids, giving me TWO DAYS IN A ROW of sleeping in. I figured I could at least return the favor.

I wish I could post a picture or say something halfway decent, but I'm just too tired so you get this instead. I'll download new pictures off my camera so next week will be full of new images.

What's the Bzz?

I'm a Bzzagent! Crazy, huh?

OK - so I didn't know what it was either. And then yesterday my friend Betsy emailed me this information, and I began an internal dialogue that lasted until this morning. You know me - I'm a talker.

Apparently bzzagents are supposed to promote products by word of mouth. Can you imagine? I imagined myself trying to work in a vitamin supplement or a new brand of soda into conversation with other moms at the park. Yuck. The possibility horrified me. Besides that, they would need information from me so that I could join. My name. My phone number. My address. And sure they SAY they won't sell it to a billion other people, but you never know.

But then I realized that a bzzagent gets to choose which products they promote. I'm pretty sure you sign up for things. "campaigns" they call them. And you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. So if I taste the new soda and think it tastes like cough syrup, then I don't have to say anything. Or I can say it tastes like cough syrup. (HEY! That new Berry Dr. Pepper? COUGH SYRUP!) And supposedly I will get free stuff. To try out.

I like the free stuff. I like the idea of getting mail, because to tell the truth I sometimes feel stranded up here, and getting ANYTHING addressed to me makes me feel warm and fuzzy. Once I try something out, should I like it, I am then supposed to (I think) talk about it to my friends. Mention it. Let them know what I think. And then log in a report on the bzzz site, letting then know that "Yeah - I told my friend about that soda, and we both LOVE it..." And then whatever - they give you points, and if you get enough points you win a trip to the bahamas - it sounds like a credit card deal from that point onwards, so I'm not sure it will actually work out that way. But the first part, the part about seeing what's out there, that's exciting! kind of.

OH! And I promise I won't make this site a soap box for anything. I mean, anything I haven't already made this a soapbox for. So don't stop reading. I promise I won't go off the deep end or sell my soul to the marketing people.

The end. See you tomorrow. Love, Me.

the WHETHER man, not the WEATHER man

I wonder whether there will be any weather, not what the weather will be...

In this part of the country the temperature goes from too cool to too hot / humid right away. There is no middle ground. We had a few hot and sunny days this year, but lately the hot days have been too hot to go to the park. Even those are preferable to the rain. The canoe and the kyak, still stranded mid-lawn from the flooding, are now invisible, covered with tall grass. The right thing to do would be to move them and then mow the lawn, but not only is the grass too wet to mow, it is too muddy to walk through. One of us could probably do it, but why? We would only get uber wet and uber muddy, and at this point there is noplace to PUT the boats that would be dryer.

I am tired of the rain, and in the past couple of days I have regretted coming back from California, and also not moving down south. I am also looking forward to my vacation to France. A lot. Every day I need to fight the urge to pack because I'm not leaving until July.

If you can't tell, I'm a bit down - probably because of the weather and the fact that Steve's been gone. But he's coming back, and the rain can't last forever (shut up, no it CAN'T) so I'm sure this is only temporary. But I threw the schedule out the window this morning because I just didn't have the strength to do it all over AGAIN...

Fence Me In

Nick has been climbing back into the crib.

This is a problem. Not so much because I don't want him in a crib. Or even because I'm afraid he'll hurt himself. No. I'm afraid he'll hurt NATE, who is almost always already in the crib when Nick scales it.

One of the first CSI episodes I ever saw was the one where that 4 month old dies and it turns out he was smothered by his 3 year old brother, who wasn't evil he was just 3 and didn't know any better. In the living room, where there's plenty of room to run around, I don't worry too much about the boys getting in each other's way. But in a crib, which is much smaller, I keep thinking Nick will sit on Nate by accident and I won't be able to hear Nate cry for help.

The thing is, I don't really have any way of stopping this from happening. Usually Nick goes right to sleep and it's not an issue, but this morning I tried closing the door to the room so Nick wouldn't climb over the baby gate and run around the house... and of course he ended up in the crib, waking Nathan up in the process...

I feel for him. I was always an early riser as small child, and I remember wandering around the house, impatient for someone to wake up so that I would have someone to play with. I remember climbing into my sister's crib, helping my brother over... and then helping her OUT of the crib. My mother would come in to get her and she'd be in the toy box - we'd be in the crib.

If Nate were just a few months older... when he learns how to sit up by himself and doesn't get confused about turning over... THEN I'll feel a lot better and a lot more comfortable about Nick climbing in there. Until then, I'll be getting up at 5, when Nick does, to prevent disaster.

This one goes out to the one I love

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR STEEEEVE,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOO YOOOOOOO!

Old Mac Donald

Yesterday we went to Charmingfare Farm, which is really a zoo.

In this part of New Hampshire there are lots of small farms. If you know what you are doing, you can make a nice profit getting people to pay you to see your animals, and then getting them to pay you MORE for the privilege of feeding them for you. I love it. I really do.

Charmingfare Farm is a farm. It has sheep and alpacas and horses and cows and goats and pigs and chickens... But it is also a zoo. It has a camel, moutain lions, bears, wolverines... and of course a baby Wallaby that someone tried to order over the internet and ended up at the farm because - hello! We are not zoned for Wallabies!

One of the activities you can buy a ticket to is a pony ride. I was very excited to get Nicholas on his first real pony. I have no idea WHY I thought this would be a Good Idea. Because it wasn't. Nick recently rode his first carousel and the only reason he stayed on THAT horse was because I was there holding him. But still, I made us buy a ticket for a pony ride.

Nick wanted nothing to do with it. Why? Was he frightened? Was he overwhelmed? No. There was a tractor parked right outside the ring with the pony, and he wanted to climb into the tractor instead. And I refused to put a screaming and kicking child on a pony.

Later, as we stood inside the petting area for the goats, a couple of staff members got into the tractor and drove off. Nicholas, oblivious to the goats walking around him, pressed his face up to the gate, climnging onto it with both ands, sobbing and crying out "TRACTOR! TRAK! TEERR!" It was like he lived on the prairie and missed the supply truck or something.

I'm looking forward to going back when he's gotten over this Tractor phase... maybe in about 18 years?

On The Road with 16 Children

It looks like the Duggar family is at it again.

They have a new show on the Discovery channel tonight at 8pm. (If you are in the country and on the East coast... which is, I think, two people I know.) On the Road with 16 Children. Apparently they load all 16 kids into an RV and tour the country... I plan to be there.

In case you don't know about JimBob and Michelle Duggar, the have 16 kids. This isn't a crime. Neither is the fact that all the kids have "J" names. But Michelle's hair... THAT is something I think she may need an intervention for.

Chuck E. Cheese's

It was a place I had never been. They either didn't exist when I was a kid, or my parents didn't know about them, either. Or maybe they did but were wise enough to remain silent. In any case, I was pretty sure this was a place I never wanted to go.

Chuck E. Cheese's.

The thing is, yesterday was the 16th rainy day we had in a row. It was cold and wet and Nick was bouncing off the walls at 8am. We had planned on going to the Aquarium. This would have been an all day outing. First of all, it's in Boston, and it's a pain to get to. Parking is expensive. Admission is expensive. And I'm also confident Nick would have been there 15 minutes before loosing interest. Chuck E. Cheese's is closer. And they have pizza!

So we went.

I have never seen my children so stimulated. The games, the noises... there is a climbing structure ON THE CEILING! You know, those hamster tubes for kids to climb through. And they wisely created a ladder inside a mesh enclosure that only the bigger kids would be able to climb, which is probably the only reason we didn't loose Nick up there. There is a smaller climbing structure for toddlers, and he was fine with that. But the games, the lights, the giant mouse (who I always though of as a rat, but no, he's a mouse) walking around dancing... Even Nathan was stimulated beyond belief. The pizza was horribly overpriced and mediocre. And the fries tasted like the potatoes had gone over. But let's face it - you don't go there for fine dining. You go there so you can sit while your kid runs around and gets tired and will take a long nap.

Even after his nap, Nicholas was still crying because we left the place. He kept saying "money! wheel! money! wheel!" over and over. Because they had COINS to play the games, and of course most games and rides had wheels...

If it were just me, I would never go back. I would squirrel away our quarters and save up for my dream trip to Disney. But my kids seem to love it, and there are a LOT of nap times between now and the time when Nate will be old enough to ride Space Mountain.

Keeping it Safe

When I first started this blog I told myself I would do it in a vague way. I would, under no circumstances, post personal information, like our last name, our address, phone numbers, work places, ages, weight, social security numbers, favorite foods, and most important - I would NEVER post pictures of my children.

Well, I quickly found that a picture is worth... what, people? What is a picture worht? That's right, a thousand words. I mean, mostly readers of this blog are family and friends, people I eventually force pictures on anyway. And the occasional browser. And Debs, but she's what I refer to as a "Loyal Reader." Plus I read her blog, too, so... there you go.

But yesterday, as I was trying to get videos to somehow work on this site, I started to feel creepy. I like I was somehow pimping out my kids. It isn't this site. If I could just post a film clip on this site I might not have such a huge problem with it. But the fact that I first have to go through YouTube... I am not comfortable with that. Which is strange, I know. I mean, the internet is the internet. If strange people want to watch images of my kids, they can just as easily read this site as go to YouTube. But... maybe it's having the clips posted in two places? Or perhaps I just feel funny about posting on YouTube because they force me to write a description of the content of my video, and include key words - so if anyone does a search for Baby and Snow, my film clip will pop up. If I mark it Private, it won't work on my blog.

So, besdies the fact that I still do not know how to post it correctly, I'm having moral issues on the video thing. Feel free to comment and sway me in either direction.

This Is Only A Test

I've been trying to figure out how to get a video posted on this site. I've been worried about clogging it up and making it slow to open on people's computers. But as it turns out I can't even get the video to appear IN the blog entry. I think I have to post a link to a different site where I upload my clips to. So please click HERE for a 15 second clip of Nicholas last Thanksgiving. You can see how much he's grown. He has hair now. Oh, and let me know if it doesn't work, please.

Oh - here's another clip. Let me know if THIS works...
ok - can't get it to show on the post... but it's HERE... see the gold box? In my view it's up top, and there's NO picture in it. But if you click on it, you should get the video... I was really looking for a picture, though...

Please let me know what works and what doesn't and if anyone has any feedback AT ALL... something other that YouTube? If I can get it so it's not too slow I can start posting longer videos of tantrums.

Biig Biig Cannon!

When we were kids driving into New York City for school every day, my brother used to point at some object out the window every single day and say "Look at the biiig, biiig cannon."

I had no idea what he was talking about. I saw no cannon. I saw no pencil (later he would point out a pencil?). But he kept saying it. Every. Single. Day. It. Drove. Me. Crazy. I mean, besides the fact that he was hallucinating and no one ever called him on it, the repetition drove me nuts.

Nicholas's favorite book is "The Best Nest," or, as he calls it, "Birds!" My mother sued to read this book to us when we were kids, so I know it well. But now? Now I know it SO MUCH BETTER! And more than just reading this book twice a day until I can recite it from memory in my sleep with a mouthful of marbles? The commentary.

I can't read one sentence without being interrupted. "Outside?" he says? And I must say "yes, outside!" before going on. I must acknowledge his observation. Otherwise he isn't convinced I actually heard it, and will keep repeating it. "Outside? Outside? Outsideoutsideoutside?" And this isn't the only one. "Flower? Flowerflowerflowerflower? Househousehousehouse?" A book that should take 5 minutes to read can be dragged out to a 20 minute procedure as I try to feed Nate, turn pages, keep the book open, read the words, and reply to Nick in a timely fashion.

I know this will only get worse. I need to find a way to numb myself. I'm thinking vodka.

(insert tension filled theme music here)

It can be Mission Impossible. Or Jeopardy. But right now I deserve some sort of Theme music. Even though I suspect most people would look at my life and think Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass.

I have limited time. As I type this, Nick and Nate are both asleep in their car seats. Puck is secured in his cat carrier. I had to run to Wal Mart this morning, which I did bright and early so that we would be back in time to get Puck to his make-up session at the vet's. But I skipped Nate's morning nap, so he fell asleep in the car. Also, Nate woke up about every 45 minutes last night, so neither Nick nor I got any good sleep. Finally, at 4:45am, Nick woke up and began reading / playing with his cars. This is why HE fell asleep in the car.

And Puck is in the carrier because I put him there as soon as we got home.

The Exorcism

As befits the date (6-6-06, everyone roll their eyes now please) my children are obviously acting under the influence of horrible demons, horrible demons who loathe silence and feel that 5am is an appropriate time to wake up in the morning.

Nathan has now caught the cold that Nick and I had. This is more painful than you would think because he will not sleep for longer than 20 minutes at a time. And of course, he won't put himself back to sleep when he wakes up. He requires comforting and nursing. And he is too little to give medicine to. He cries when I put him down, either on the floor or in his bed or carrier or swing or anywhere else. He slept in his carrier IN his crib last night, sitting up a bit to keep his congestion from getting too bad.

I am very aware of how I am interacting with my children these days, post nick-elbow-trauma. And I can say with confidence that, this morning, I sounded like a woman who would not only dislocate her child's elbow, but then mix it up into sloppy joe's while smoking and wearing a hairnet. I don't think anyone heard me, though, as it was only 5am.

I am confident that this is the last day Nathan will have this cold, and that he will be sleeping soundly again by tonight. If not, I shall medicate him anyway. And then I'll medicate myself. Ny-Quil for all!

Hello, McFly?

I got no comments on how I , personally, dislocated my two year old's elbow. I came up with a few possible explanations. First, no one cares, and I could actually shut him away in a closet with only fruit roll ups as nourishment and no one would say anything. Second, everyone is so upset with me that they are too busy plotting the removal of my children from my home to post nasty comments telling me how horrid I am. Or third, it was a weekend post and no one reads this on the weekend.

I am, actually, terribly afraid that I will unwittingly harm my children again. I may squeeze them too hard, or swing them around too much and harm their brains, or I might pull their arms clear out of their sockets next time, who knows. After much thought, I've come up with a solution. Here is a picture of it. With Nick in this box, he can't run around and hurt himself, and I no longet need to run around pulling him off furniture and away from heavy falling objects or our knife collection. he balloons not only amuse, but offer cushioning in case of a fall.