Logic

We took Charlie to Build A Bear last weekend. ("We" is my sister, Elizabeth, Alexis, and myself.)  My sister did this for Alexis for her first birthday, and for Elizabeth for several of hers when she was older.  And before you get all butt hurt for Elizabeth, that was because it did not exist in Ohio for her first birthday, plus she was a poor college student back then and she had to spend what little money she had on necessities like cheap vodka, Pabst Blue Ribbon, Ramen noodles, and condoms. 

It was fun to watch Charlie pick out the bear (actually, a doggie, that we oh so creatively named Doggie for her.  We are a very inventive bunch, fo shure...)  She had a very scientific method here that involved staring down the various animal skins (which really resembled bear skin rugs.  I had a barely contained desire to spread them out in front of the various displays of BAB furniture that were around the store.  I am sure that all of the parents that were there with their sweet innocent children would TOTALLY appreciate the humor in that...).  She then would attempt to remove their eyeballs and pick their noses; if they passed this test then came the final exam of chewing on the ear.  Only Doggie got that far, so I am assuming that there was some pretty stringent requirements that the various animals had to meet that only Doggie met.  Picking out the outfit was easy though...much to my delight, she went right for the Tinkerbell outfit (I call her Princess Tinkerbell, which came from Princess Tink, which evolved from Princess Stinker, which came from Stinker, which came from her being completely uncooperative as a fetus during her non stress tests and ultrasounds.  She definitely earned that nick name then.)

However, she now hates that outfit during bedtime.  In fact, we had to remove it.  Doggie is now naked.  (As a side note, so is Alexis's Beary (notice the originality in naming?).  I am not sure if this is something I should be concerned about with my children, but hey...look who their mother is.  I used to sell sex toys, for God's sake.)

Isn't it funny about what kids get into their minds?  I remember when I was younger someone talking about losing their temper.  I vividly remember walking around our front yard, looking for what I thought was a snake-like creature.  Elizabeth, when she was younger, once asked me why heaven had a gate around it.  Turns out that all the times I pointed out the cemetery where my grandmother, her namesake was buried, and then told her later that she was in heaven, she thought that the cemetery was heaven.  Alexis's first sentence was at the corner store, with Elizabeth and her best friend Jewel.  We were having ice cream and Alexis turned to me and said, "I a big kid".  I was confused, then asked her if she was a big kid because she was having ice cream.  She grinned from ear to ear and nodded.  So it totally follows that Charlie would be OK with her Doggie wearing its clothes during the day only.  In some brand of kiddie logic, it makes sense. 

Wind

As I was leaving work this evening, a cold wind blew through the trees. I caught myself thinking, "That wind smells like cold".  Huh?  WTF?  Does that sentence even remotely make sense taken out of context?  Or even in context, for that matter.  What the fuck does cold smell like?

It smelled like the wind tonight, I will tell you that much.

Thanksgiving

I really feel as though Thanksgiving totally got forgotten.  I totally feel for it, as my family regularly forgets to tell me important things.  Like hey, by the way, your mother has moved out of your childhood home into a condo in another city and no one mentioned it to you...that kind of forgotten.  But hey, don't worry Thanksgiving, that kind of neglect really only adds months onto your future therapy needs!  In relation to the decades you will require, really, just a drop in the hat!

I guess I am as guilty as the next person of forgetting about Thanksgiving in the rush to get Black Friday deals.  My sister even contemplated camping out in the Best Buy parking lot and deep frying the turkey out there.  Then we realized that we might run of out alcohol that way and there was no way in hell my family was going to try to tolerate each other without it (even with the added sleepy effects of the turkey...) so that idea got nixed pretty quickly.  I must say though, that it really seemed as though Christmas overshadows Thanksgiving in a big way this year.

I guess if you compare the holidays, it is pretty much a no brainer.  What to emphasize; the birth of Christ or the beginnings of the systematic oppression and cruelty towards an entire race of people as well as the beginnings of pillaging the land for its natural resources to the extent that we change the climate of an entire fucking planet?  I would buy that if a.) Christians weren't responsible mainly for the latter, and b.) Christmas is really not about the birth of Jesus anymore anyways.

I do go shopping on Black Friday.  This year we skipped Walmart in favor of the $15 jeans at Old Navy.  I have lost a lot of weight (thank you, Dukan diet!) and was down 3 jeans sizes, so that was a no brainer.  Then we went to the mall and for some reason stood in line forever to buy shit at Express.  Only reason why I went for this was because I have my nephew's name for Christmas and he wanted a fucking $60 hoodie that was on sale for $38.  His damn fleece pullover cost more than two pairs of my jeans.  Whatevs, it was what he wanted.  Then we went to Perkins and had really crappy food with even crappier service and waited till 5 AM for Kmart to open to complete my shopping.

I am providing these details because I want to clearly emphasize the next point:  I was tired the rest of that day.  No duh, right?  So I did not go grocery shopping until later that night.  And when I went, I kinda got the feeling I was witnessing the aftermath of...something.  Like an overly dramatic teenager just flipped out on her parents because they tried to show her how to fold a shirt and OMG I am not a baby and you just need to LET GO  and you are RUINING MY LIFE BY BREATHING THE SAME AIR AS ME!!!! and now the parents are left reeling and staggering around with a massive headache, strong desire to drink, and a vague sense of impending doom.  That kind of aftermath.

This is what unfettered materialism does to people.  Capitalism is not bad.  I am all as "Yay Capitalism!" as the next person...but really, America, the workers of retail establishments are people too.  And they don't need to have that look the day after Thanksgiving.  It should be the OMFG I ate too much turkey and now my pants don't fit look.

And for the record, I did today support a small business on Small Business Saturday :) Yay Capitalism!

Bottles

I have been slowly weaning Charlie off her bottles. By slowly, I mean that I have been thinking about how the hell I am going to do this.  That child loves her ba-bas like Katy Perry fans adore her music...with a fiery passion that only they understand (I mean, really?  Have you ever tasted formula?  Or actually listened to Katy Perry's voice?)

I attempted to give her some formula in a cup with her lunch today.  The look she gave me clearly indicated where she thought my intelligence quotient was for that exact moment, and I can tell you that it was NOT in the upper percentiles.  It was probably not even in the low average percentiles.  She barely drinks juice out of a cup; I don't know why I was kidding myself that it was going to be that easy.  She then proceeded to take the cup, look me directly in the eye, and drop it on the floor.  She then resumed shoving her cheese into her mouth.

The doctors recommended that we cut out her nighttime bottle after this last (her 6th...) ear infection.  She is supposed to get tubes on Monday.  Clearly there is some medical necessity here as she is only 10.5 months old...I think they think that we are propping her bottles up for her and allowing her to fall asleep with them, hence the recommendation.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  We have that poor child sitting up so straight while drinking them that it almost looks uncomfortable.  Or maybe they are trying to hint to me that I should start doing more than just thinking about weaning.

I could say that my reluctance to wean is because I want to keep her a baby.  But then I would be lying, and liars go to hell (it's in the Bible somewhere, I am sure...).  I have been actually really enjoying the past few months of watching her bloom and grow.  Sure, it is a bit sad that my baby girl is going to be a year old soon.  But...I never really got to enjoy either Elizabeth's or Alexis's baby-hood the way I am Charlie's.  I was too busy trying to just survive (for different reasons for both, but it was survival nonetheless.)  With Charlie, I have been able to marvel and enjoy every last milestone.  I can watch in amazement as she learns to climb, to blow kisses, to talk.  I don't have all of that other stuff to distract me from the miracle that she is.  I find myself eagerly anticipating her next move in a way I did not with the other two because I AM thoroughly able to enjoy the present now.

I just don't want the fight of it is all.  I am still holding out hope that she will be like Alexis and wean herself (and transition herself to a big girl bed, and potty train herself....hey, a girl can dream right?)  However, unless in the next three weeks she drastically reduces her desire for a bottle, she is NOT on track for this.  I will have to do this the old-fashioned way, I guess.

Now, time to google what the old-fashioned way is.  Guess I am still thinking about it :p

Necklace

I have a necklace that I had made for Gabe (from www.belkaidesigns.com, the footprint necklace if you are interested).  I have worn it daily since the day that I got it.

Last week, I was at the office and it slipped off of the chain it was on.  I noticed it in my cleavage and re-attached it to my necklace, with the vague thought of having Charles take a pair of pliers and tighten the loop up when I got home.  Needless to say, when I took Charlie to her apppointment at the ENT (tubes it is!  I guess 5 ear infections in only 10 months of life raises a red flag...) I lost it again.

I had tried to call security at the hospital...nope.  No one had turned it in.  I had resigned myself to having to buy another one because I was sure that it had gotten run over by a car and crushed, when I got a voice mail from a stranger saying, "I think I have something that belongs to you".

I assumed that it was security, and I was STOKED.  I called, described the charm, and sure enough...it was it.  She asked how she could get it back to me, and I mentioned that I would be back at the hospital again soon.  She agreed to leave it with security.

Then she said, "I found that necklace, and you know, I never usually pick stuff up off the ground.  Something told me to grab this, though.  I am so glad I did...if it had been me I would have wanted it back.  I ended up googling the name, found the obit, then your blog...I am so very sorry for your loss."

I was speechless.  This woman (she did give me her name, but I don't have her permission to publish it so I am not going to...) went through all of that time and effort to return a trinket that was worthless to everyone else but me?  I was moved beyond words.  Her simple gesture of trying to return my necklace to me made my freaking year.

This woman unknowingly re-affirmed for me the basic goodness of human beings.  I see so much crap, so much awfulness, that one basic act of kindness reminds me of why I do what I do.  People ARE good.  People do care.

Thank you.

Halloween

It is that time of year again where it is socially acceptable to dress up as the un-dead and frighten small children while simultaneously freely contributing to the growing "obesity crisis" by handing out tons of diabetes-inducing, teeth-rotting, conveniently packaged sweets.  AKA, Halloween.

I keep hearing that Americans are increasingly spending more and more time, money, and effort on Halloween.  That it may soon one day surpass Christmas as the "BIG" holiday.  That Halloween is FUN!  And EXCITING!

Yeah, I don't get into it.  Big shocker there, right?  I have never followed what the rest of the general public does.  Not on purpose; it just kinda always ends up being like that.  I would take pride in this fact, except for it makes my life a PITA sometimes.

I tried to figure out why I am not so much into Halloween.  I briefly considered the idea that as a child, dressing up and pretending to be something scary was just as bad as my own fucked-up reality...so I did not need the escape the way others might.  That was too depressing to contemplate, so maybe it was the fact that I have never been into scary stuff.  I much prefer to see a comedy or even a drama than a horror flick.  But Halloween does not necessarily have to be scary (though it often is...) so I discarded that idea as well.

I finally just decided it was not my thing.  I take my kids out to trick or treat; we decorate (though that is mostly by Elizabeth's insistence); I go to a friend's annual Halloween party.  I am just kinda "eh" about it. 

Maybe some day I will come around.  Happy Halloween anyways!

Conversations VI

At the doctor's office, with Elizabeth in that little paper gown:

E:  Look Mom!  I am a transformer!

Me:  What, are you going to turn into a car now?

E:  (Rolls eyes) No Mom.  You have to turn into something that is, like, the same species!  Like a fawn!  Or a rabbit!

Me:  WTF?  (Yes, I probably actually said WTF.  Parent of the year I am not.)  A fawn?  Out of all of the animals that you could have chosen...you say fawn?

E:  Well, they are kinda the same color as we are...light tan-ish.  If we were talking about Charlie or my dad, it would have to be something really white.

Conversations V

Talking about Charlie:
Me: Unfortunately, Charlie has my T-rex arms and Charles's thighs.

Charles:  Well, she has my strength though...

Me:  Yeah, I have no upper body strength...

Elizabeth:  Yeah, she is gonna be like a cobra (takes her hand and arm, bends it to look like a snake head, then makes it "strike").


Elizabeth, reading what I just wrote:

E:  You have a blog?

Me: Yes, I have a blog.  There is a link on my Facebook page...I write about you a lot.

E:  Is it because I am hilarious?

Me:  Suuuuuuuuure......

Multi-tasking

So as I sit here tonight typing this there are no less than 4 additional tabs open on my web browser.  Grand total: 5.

I have never been able to just sit and watch TV.  I am usually sitting and crocheting, sitting and folding laundry, sitting and catching up on paperwork from work, etc., etc..

I tried this morning, while brushing my teeth, to weigh myself.  I got really pissed when the scale gave me an error message because I was wiggling too much while brushing.  Apparently I put a bit of booty into my brushing...

I frequently eat my lunch while driving.  I am embarrassed to admit this, but I am really good at eating yogurt and going 65+ on the highway.  I don't do this during rush hour though (like that makes it any better...)

I have been known to read mail and cook dinner at the same time.

Springing off my last post here I guess.  Is it any wonder I constantly feel like life is a race that I can't win?  Like I am always second best somehow because I can't do as many things at once as I want to?    What the hell am I afraid is going to happen if I just slow down and RELAX for a minute?

I have always made things hard for myself.  My chosen career, my political beliefs, my religious beliefs, my style of parenting...all at one point or another in my life have come under fire in a major way.  Perhaps my need to prove to people that I am not worthless, my conditioned by society response to prove to the privileged class that I can pull myself up by the bootstraps (which ironically is never good enough for them...) is the driving force behind my inability to just do one thing at a time.

Or maybe my meds need adjusted. 

Sandwiches

There are two tasks that I truly dislike.  One is folding laundry, as evidenced by the current mounds that occupy a good portion of my basement (and most likely my dryer as well.  I could happily live forever out of my laundry baskets.  Folding laundry just seems to me to be an exercise in futility.  I seriously feel like that hamster running frantically on its wheel.  You never get anywhere, you know...)

The other is making sandwiches for lunches.  Elizabeth is old enough that and apparently cool enough that I dare not taint her lunch with my unholy, un-cool hands.  She packs her own shit.  I am also a bad wife and make Charles pack his.  This leaves Charlie and Alexis. 

Charlie is still young enough that she pretty much has no say in what she eats.  She gets sent to daycare with leftovers.  Alexis, however, has been corrupted by that oh so powerful force known as children her age and long ago dug her heels in on the leftover thing.  She now demands a sandwich for lunch.  The nerve, I tell you...I think I need to remind her of the hell that was her labor and delivery...

I really don't know why I dislike this task so.  I could possibly blame it on her wanting a PB&J, the most labor intensive of the sandwiches.  You have to get the correct ratio of the PB to the J, then spreading out the jelly...and those little fucking globs that JUST WON'T SPREAD....then there is the whole don't taint the PB with the J or vice versa; so really you HAVE to use two utensils to make it.  Is there any greater sandwich snobbery than having  to use TWO utensils?  I think not.  Then you have to use the nifty little cutter thingy that I have that removes the crusts (BECAUSE GOD FORBID THERE BE DARK BROWN CRAP AROUND THE EDGES, MOTHER!!!) and cuts it diagonally for you...bringing the total utensil usage up to THREE.  It gets very stressful.  Though I do admit that sometimes I exploit my child's distaste for dark brown crap and buy multi-grain bread.  Whatcha gonna do now, huh?  That entire bitch is dark brown!

At any rate, it is not her desire for the childhood classic as I hated it when she wanted bologna, when she wanted salami, when she wanted turkey.  I just hate making sandwiches.  Maybe it's because I don't eat them really myself.  Maybe it is somehow related to how often my mother did or did not hug me as a child.  I really don't fucking know, or care.  I am sure there is some grand symbolic meaning behind my reluctance to engage in all activities sandwich-making, but the internets haz funny videos made by funny peeps, so...

I delegated for a while.  I asked Charles to make it for me.  Not sure he really understood why, but he lives with me and usually does not pretend to fully understand me, so he went with it.  Then it just got to the point where I just started to do it.

Herein lies the problem. I think every working mother struggles with this very thing.  I just make all of the lunches at once, and if Charles is not readily available I just do it instead of waiting.  I am just too busy in my mind to wait.  Hell, I try thinking of ways to multi-task while brushing my teeth.  I am at the point to where I would try to pay bills during sex if I thought my husband would let me.

When did I get to the point where slowing down and waiting a minute became a sin?  What am I running from?  And how does this interrelate with some of what is going on  in my life now?  All very worthy questions I need to ask myself.

So much for not analyzing.