Lately I am perfectly content to never leave the house. I got this absolutely divine Eddie Bauer blanket for Christmas, and I have these perfectly plump pillows (look at that alliteration! and it's not even "P" day...), and truthfully, I would be pretty dang happy to do nothing but lay on the couch day after day with my blanket, pillow, and laptop, barking orders and delivering commands. (I don't really bark. Much.)
"You need help with your homework? Bring it here. No you can't use my blanket."
"Can't you people hear the phone?. Can someone get that?"
"Someone bring me the baby so I can change her diaper. Don't forget the diaper and wipes."
"Lucy wants a snack. Who's going to get it for her?"
"I think the dog needs to go out."
Honestly I'm not very good at delegation, but I think I'm learning.
I'm pretty sure the entire problem is this whole winter thing that's going on. The thought of going outside and being cold just exhausts me. My blanket is so warm and cozy. Why leave it if I don't have to?
Yes sometimes I do leave the couch. These people keep dirtying clothes and dishes. Sometimes I have to cook for them. I try really hard to do a bare minimum 20-30 minute workout most days. And let's not forget the driving done to facilitate the fetching and delivering of children.
I am going out this weekend. I'm going to see Chris's band, The Smiths United, play. Like at the bar. So like I have to actually have real clothes on under my coat. (You should totally go too. What's not to love about a Smiths tribute band? Unless you don't like the Smiths, but that would be blasphemy.)
So yeah, hopefully when the weather starts improving I'll get over my couch potato homebody existence. No, I definitely will. But somebody better hide this blanket from me.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
They Say It's Your Birthday
Actually Chris's birthday. And it was yesterday. He wanted to stay home all day and just hang around watching movies and stuff. So my mom and his parents came over for pizza and I made cake.
It looked pretty good in the pan.
While I am unfortunately not much of a cook, I do enjoy baking. Mainly because I love sweets almost to the exclusion of all other foods. So I had a box of chocolate cake mix, but I wanted to do something different with it, so I found this recipe for meringue-swirled chocolate cake on the Betty Crocker
website. Well it was my first time making meringue, so let's just say it didn't look so pretty once I took it out of the springform pan
. Nor was it quite as intact.
This is what an overcooked meringue-swirled chocolate cake looks like.
I followed the directions exactly, but I guess I should have shaved about 10-15 minutes off the baking time. But it tasted good, kind of like a sweet, crunchy cookie coating. I think I'll try this one again another time, and maybe not forget about it until the oven buzzer goes off so that I actually check on it, to, you know, make sure it's not getting ruined.
The kids put together a little routine for Chris, to the Beatles "Birthday Song". Can I just say I love that my 9-year old daughter has Beatles music on her iPod
? We'll just ignore for a moment the rest of the crap she has on there.
My own birthday will be here in a couple weeks, and my birthday is always a depressing day for me. This year I resolve to enjoy my birthday. In fact I think I'm going to add that to my Life List - Enjoy My Birthday Every Year. I will prepare myself to have a great day. Okay I have some time to get myself hyped up, I'll do my best.
While I am unfortunately not much of a cook, I do enjoy baking. Mainly because I love sweets almost to the exclusion of all other foods. So I had a box of chocolate cake mix, but I wanted to do something different with it, so I found this recipe for meringue-swirled chocolate cake on the Betty Crocker
website. Well it was my first time making meringue, so let's just say it didn't look so pretty once I took it out of the springform pan. Nor was it quite as intact.
I followed the directions exactly, but I guess I should have shaved about 10-15 minutes off the baking time. But it tasted good, kind of like a sweet, crunchy cookie coating. I think I'll try this one again another time, and maybe not forget about it until the oven buzzer goes off so that I actually check on it, to, you know, make sure it's not getting ruined.
The kids put together a little routine for Chris, to the Beatles "Birthday Song". Can I just say I love that my 9-year old daughter has Beatles music on her iPod
? We'll just ignore for a moment the rest of the crap she has on there.My own birthday will be here in a couple weeks, and my birthday is always a depressing day for me. This year I resolve to enjoy my birthday. In fact I think I'm going to add that to my Life List - Enjoy My Birthday Every Year. I will prepare myself to have a great day. Okay I have some time to get myself hyped up, I'll do my best.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Preschool Is Preposterous
Just kidding, I love preschool. Yesterday was "P" day, and also my working day at the cooperative preschool Lucy attends. And it's fun to think of "P" words all day long. Even though it's now the next day but whatever.
When it was time to clean up and get ready for lunch time at preschool yesterday, one child did not take kindly to my helpfulness in the matter of putting away the giant waffle blocks. This child (whose name and gender shall remain anonymous) rushed me, and commenced to beat me with little fists, kick me, and violently climb up my body while frantically hanging on to me.
Whoa there little cowboy/cowgirl. Where's the love?
This is my sixth year being involved in a cooperative preschool, which means working in the classroom alongside the teachers at least once a month. I have never had a child attack me, especially not an almost 5-year old child who maybe should be well past the age of violent temper tantrums.
My instinct...well my instinct was to think, "thank GOD my kids never behave like this." And boy is that dangerous territory. I had to hurry up and get that thought right out of my mind lest my own 4-year old suddenly develop a bad habit of beating her parents or random strangers into submission. Because that's how the universe works.
Oh my GOD. I can't believe his parents let him use a pacifier. He's like 3 years old!
Enter the child who sucks her thumb until she is 6.
Co-sleeping is dangerous! Those idiots will be sorry when they suffocate their poor, innocent infant who should be safely sleeping in his own crib!
Enter the baby who will only sleep while being held, and believe me, there is only so much sleep one can endure while sitting up. Furthermore, there is only so much sleep-deprivation one person can tolerate. And for some of us, that might not be very much at all.
Judging our fellow parents can easily become an ugly habit. Maybe that kid you saw at the grocery store this morning had a filthy dirty face because his mother woke up late and had to feed him a chocolate Poptart for breakfast, in the car on the way to dropping her other kids off at school, because there was nothing else to eat in the house, and then when they got in the grocery store (because there was nothing to eat in the house, are you following?) she fittingly realized that she did not have any wipes or a single tissue with which to clean her child's face.
But why would she wait until there's nothing to eat before going to the grocery store? Doesn't she plan for these things? Maybe her husband's paycheck came late, or maybe the whole family was down and out with a nasty stomach bug all weekend. Or a millions other things, it really doesn't matter.
But chocolate Poptarts? Who would feed their children such absolute garbage? Maybe a well-intentioned grandparent brought them over for a treat. Or maybe it's just a family who eats Poptarts, okay? Who cares?
Well alright, but couldn't she have just taken him home to wash his face once she realized how filthy he was? How long could it take to get him out of the cart, put him back in the car seat, drive home, take him out of the car seat, bring him in the house, wash his face, get him back in the car seat, drive back to the store, get him out of the car seat, and put him back in the cart? Do you even have kids?
My own kids have done their best to embarrass me plenty of times. Don't all kids? And because I know I sometimes might have a snarky thought cross my mind when I see someone else's kid behaving poorly, I cringe all the more the one time my oldest decides to start crying at the store because I won't buy her something she wants. I know I'm being judged. My parenting skills are in question, my character, the character of my child, our family values.
So that child who attacked me...well maybe he or she was having a really bad day for some reason. Maybe his or her dad was out of town for work and he or she was really missing him. Or maybe that little boy or girl was coming down with a cold, or didn't get enough sleep the night before. Or whatever.
No kid is perfect, no parent is perfect, and there is no one perfect way to raise a child to ensure perfection. Sometimes we do the very best we can, and still our children misbehave or do things we really wish they wouldn't do. Despite our best efforts, they might lose their homework or spill juice on it. They might say something rude to somebody. They are their own people, after all. They don't follow scripts that we carefully prepare for them. Sometimes we might wake up late and not have time to brush their hair. Sometimes we might not notice that their shoes don't match until we're half way through the mall. The end result that everyone sees and judges is a conglomeration of so many things. Things that the person judging usually has no way of knowing.
When I realize these judgments are cropping up into my consciousness, I do my best to nip them in the bud a.s.a.p. Because it's true what they say about walking a mile in another man's shoes. Being helpful, kind, and understanding might take a little more effort. But it's effort well spent.
When it was time to clean up and get ready for lunch time at preschool yesterday, one child did not take kindly to my helpfulness in the matter of putting away the giant waffle blocks. This child (whose name and gender shall remain anonymous) rushed me, and commenced to beat me with little fists, kick me, and violently climb up my body while frantically hanging on to me.
Whoa there little cowboy/cowgirl. Where's the love?
This is my sixth year being involved in a cooperative preschool, which means working in the classroom alongside the teachers at least once a month. I have never had a child attack me, especially not an almost 5-year old child who maybe should be well past the age of violent temper tantrums.
My instinct...well my instinct was to think, "thank GOD my kids never behave like this." And boy is that dangerous territory. I had to hurry up and get that thought right out of my mind lest my own 4-year old suddenly develop a bad habit of beating her parents or random strangers into submission. Because that's how the universe works.
Oh my GOD. I can't believe his parents let him use a pacifier. He's like 3 years old!
Enter the child who sucks her thumb until she is 6.
Co-sleeping is dangerous! Those idiots will be sorry when they suffocate their poor, innocent infant who should be safely sleeping in his own crib!
Enter the baby who will only sleep while being held, and believe me, there is only so much sleep one can endure while sitting up. Furthermore, there is only so much sleep-deprivation one person can tolerate. And for some of us, that might not be very much at all.
Judging our fellow parents can easily become an ugly habit. Maybe that kid you saw at the grocery store this morning had a filthy dirty face because his mother woke up late and had to feed him a chocolate Poptart for breakfast, in the car on the way to dropping her other kids off at school, because there was nothing else to eat in the house, and then when they got in the grocery store (because there was nothing to eat in the house, are you following?) she fittingly realized that she did not have any wipes or a single tissue with which to clean her child's face.
But why would she wait until there's nothing to eat before going to the grocery store? Doesn't she plan for these things? Maybe her husband's paycheck came late, or maybe the whole family was down and out with a nasty stomach bug all weekend. Or a millions other things, it really doesn't matter.
But chocolate Poptarts? Who would feed their children such absolute garbage? Maybe a well-intentioned grandparent brought them over for a treat. Or maybe it's just a family who eats Poptarts, okay? Who cares?
Well alright, but couldn't she have just taken him home to wash his face once she realized how filthy he was? How long could it take to get him out of the cart, put him back in the car seat, drive home, take him out of the car seat, bring him in the house, wash his face, get him back in the car seat, drive back to the store, get him out of the car seat, and put him back in the cart? Do you even have kids?
My own kids have done their best to embarrass me plenty of times. Don't all kids? And because I know I sometimes might have a snarky thought cross my mind when I see someone else's kid behaving poorly, I cringe all the more the one time my oldest decides to start crying at the store because I won't buy her something she wants. I know I'm being judged. My parenting skills are in question, my character, the character of my child, our family values.
So that child who attacked me...well maybe he or she was having a really bad day for some reason. Maybe his or her dad was out of town for work and he or she was really missing him. Or maybe that little boy or girl was coming down with a cold, or didn't get enough sleep the night before. Or whatever.
No kid is perfect, no parent is perfect, and there is no one perfect way to raise a child to ensure perfection. Sometimes we do the very best we can, and still our children misbehave or do things we really wish they wouldn't do. Despite our best efforts, they might lose their homework or spill juice on it. They might say something rude to somebody. They are their own people, after all. They don't follow scripts that we carefully prepare for them. Sometimes we might wake up late and not have time to brush their hair. Sometimes we might not notice that their shoes don't match until we're half way through the mall. The end result that everyone sees and judges is a conglomeration of so many things. Things that the person judging usually has no way of knowing.
When I realize these judgments are cropping up into my consciousness, I do my best to nip them in the bud a.s.a.p. Because it's true what they say about walking a mile in another man's shoes. Being helpful, kind, and understanding might take a little more effort. But it's effort well spent.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
We're Little People And We'll Always Be Friends
I love Little People. When I was a kid I had a blue Little People house and a Little People fire station, and how I loved to play with the choking-hazard Little People figures that went with them. Once when we moved cross country I had to part with some of my toys, and one of those was my beloved Little People fire station. To this day I regret getting rid of that toy. My mom still has the rest of my Little People stuff, which my kids play with when they visit Grandma.
When I grew up and had kids of my own, I was thrilled to discover that Fisher Price had re-imagined and modernized Little People. I became maybe a little obsessed with buying Little People sets for my kids. Oh the details! The furniture! The accessories! The endless variety of imaginative scenes to be played out! So we have quite a few Little People toys. Maybe, just maybe, a ridiculous amount of Little People
toys.
But when we moved into this house in 2009, five (yes 5!!) days before Mathilda was born, the boxes of Little People went to the storage room in the basement. We have high hopes, you see, of creating a play room for the kids down there. It just hasn't happened yet.
(But it will! I swear! Hopefully sometime before they've totally outgrown playing with toys altogether. Otherwise our grandkids are going to have a kick ass play room.)
So the Little People have been living down there ever since, sad and lonely with no one to play with them. Poor Little People. However, this past Christmas, Mathilda received some new Little People sets. And that reminded the kids that there is a stockpile of these plastic gems in the basement. Yesterday Bethany hauled one of the boxes up to the family room and boy they all went crazy playing with those Little People that have been ignored and neglected for almost two years. The first thing Lucy did when she got up this morning was play Little People. Bethany and Connor can't wait to come home from school today just so they can totally annihilate the family room with Little People. Daddy will be so thrilled.
And I'm about to go hit up Amazon to see which new and exciting Little People
toys I can save in my cart for Mathilda's birthday.
See, Little People, I knew we'd always be friends.
When I grew up and had kids of my own, I was thrilled to discover that Fisher Price had re-imagined and modernized Little People. I became maybe a little obsessed with buying Little People sets for my kids. Oh the details! The furniture! The accessories! The endless variety of imaginative scenes to be played out! So we have quite a few Little People toys. Maybe, just maybe, a ridiculous amount of Little People
toys.But when we moved into this house in 2009, five (yes 5!!) days before Mathilda was born, the boxes of Little People went to the storage room in the basement. We have high hopes, you see, of creating a play room for the kids down there. It just hasn't happened yet.
(But it will! I swear! Hopefully sometime before they've totally outgrown playing with toys altogether. Otherwise our grandkids are going to have a kick ass play room.)
So the Little People have been living down there ever since, sad and lonely with no one to play with them. Poor Little People. However, this past Christmas, Mathilda received some new Little People sets. And that reminded the kids that there is a stockpile of these plastic gems in the basement. Yesterday Bethany hauled one of the boxes up to the family room and boy they all went crazy playing with those Little People that have been ignored and neglected for almost two years. The first thing Lucy did when she got up this morning was play Little People. Bethany and Connor can't wait to come home from school today just so they can totally annihilate the family room with Little People. Daddy will be so thrilled.
this is just a wee sampling of the Little People mayhem
And I'm about to go hit up Amazon to see which new and exciting Little People
toys I can save in my cart for Mathilda's birthday. See, Little People, I knew we'd always be friends.
Monday, January 17, 2011
...Like A Stranger In The Night
Don't worry, this is not where I share with you from my journals of unpublished poetry. (I don't have any, cause if I did, well, no promises).
So I woke up this morning and realized I haven't nursed Mathilda in like 3 or 4 days. Whoa. Oh my GOD. I never thought she was going to release me from her evil clutches. In fact, not long ago I seem to remember tears in the middle of the night. My tears. And maybe a teensy bit of ranting, something about never being freed of my servitude to a little person with a huge will to nurse forever. And then suddenly I woke up today and realized it's over. Like it was a huge joke.
So I woke up this morning and realized I haven't nursed Mathilda in like 3 or 4 days. Whoa. Oh my GOD. I never thought she was going to release me from her evil clutches. In fact, not long ago I seem to remember tears in the middle of the night. My tears. And maybe a teensy bit of ranting, something about never being freed of my servitude to a little person with a huge will to nurse forever. And then suddenly I woke up today and realized it's over. Like it was a huge joke.
Hahaha. You really thought I was serious about that? Breast milk? Eh. It's okay I guess.
I've definitely been all over the board on the nursing thing. I don't judge any mother for whatever choices she makes on the milk front. Because I've done it all, from nursing at first and then switching to formula, to straight formula from day one, to doing both formula and nursing for 18 months, and finally, exclusively nursing a child who would rather starve (loudly) than touch a bottle. Now that those days are behind me, I have to say, I wish I had had the fortitude to stick out the nursing with the first two. And I say that in a totally non-preachy way, because I really don't care how you feed your baby. It's just in my 20/20 hindsight, I can see that if I had just suffered through the first few torturous months, I would have survived and it would have become much easier eventually.
Nursing is great for lazy people who don't want to mix formula and wash bottles. And for people who don't like to sleep. (hey don't let this deter you if you are right at this moment debating: breast or bottle? because you could get lucky and have a nurser who likes to sleep. I've heard they do exist.) Because on the plus side, those two little formula fed babies slept like rocks, and for that I was so grateful.
I'm glad to have resolved the hostage situation with my body, but honestly, I think I will miss nursing a little bit. Not that I wasn't TOTALLY ready for it to be over, it's just that Mathilda is a big girl now and so busy. Snuggling on my lap doesn't hold as much appeal for her anymore. So here I go again sniffling about my baby growing up.
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