Bookish

Last week the kids and I ventured to the library so C could attend story (half) hour. He disappeared into the story room, and A and I did every puzzle in the library several times over. For some reason, while she won't touch the 40 billion puzzles in our playroom, at the library the puzzles are a major draw. But I was finally able to bribe her into accompanying me to the adult section with a stack of new Dora books to peruse while tucked under the water bubbler. I picked out this book, and so far it is fabulous. Then I added this one and this one, as how many books sitting in your Amazon cart can you actually ever find on the shelves of the library? Clearly the library gods were telling me it was time to pick up the pace. As we passed the travel section, I picked up a few books on London as well, so I could show C and A where Julia and Evan are now spending their days. At the circulation desk, the librarian stopped us and handed over this baby, which I hope to take for a test drive this afternoon.

Just as A started terrorizing the patrons and I began wondering if story (half) hour would ever end, the children emerged, each carrying a coloring page and a book. One by one they bolted to their caregivers, full of news about the itsy-bitsy spider and Georgie the Ghost. But as A and I stood there with our piles of books, a little concerned about the whereabouts of C, a small figure stumbled out with only his eyes visable over the collection of early readers gathered in his arms. The librarian trailed behind, picking up the droppage. She finally spied us, and steered C over. As she eyed my pile and C's pile, she laughed. "I see he comes by it honestly. We generally don't let the kids take out this many books from the story hour room, but he was so engrossed in them all..."

I gathered up C's books with my own and thanked her, while C literally buried his nose in a book and started walking towards the door, running into several other patrons on the way. He handed over the book under protest at the scanner, and then quickly snatched it back and curled up in a chair with it while waiting for A and I to finish checking out the rest of our finds. I have to say, it perked up an otherwise dreary parenting week. Now if only he would learn how to actually read the book himself....

Overheard at Bedtime

A: "I want to sleep in the hallway!"

Mommy: "No, we sleep in our rooms."

A: "But I used to sleep in the hallway!"

Mommy: "Well, the rules have changed and now we sleep in our rooms. Not the hallway."

C: "A, she does that sometimes."

A: "Oh."

The ultimate chili

Tonight, I think I finally perfected my chili. So for all those chili lovers out there, here is my recipe. It has been a seven or eight year work in progress, but tonight it got the "Ymmm" of approval from M while he shoveled it into his mouth at the stove.

Chichimama's Chili

1 lb lean ground turkey (optional)
2 green peppers, chopped
2 onions, chopped
2 jalapeno peppers, diced
6 cloves garlic, minced
2 to 4 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon cumin
2 tablespoons oregano
2 (28 oz) cans crushed tomatoes
2 (15 oz) cans diced tomatoes
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 bottle chili sauce
1 cup dry white wine (optional)
2 15 oz cans kidney beans
1 15 oz can cannellini beans (2 if omitting the meat)
1 can tomato paste

Stir fry the ground turkey until cooked through in a large dutch oven. Remove from pan and drain grease. Add onion, pepper, garlic jalapeno, oregano, chili powder and cumin. Stir fry 5 min or until pepper is crisp/tender. Add tomatoes, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, chili sauce and wine. Simmer for at least 20 minutes, but I usually let it go for an hour plus. Add the beans and tomato paste (if you like a thicker chili like I do). Simmer for an additional 5 - 10 minutes. Sprinkle with Mexican cheese (or cheddar) and serve.

This makes a vat, so be prepared to freeze some. And it tastes even better after being frozen.

Overheard during quiet time

C: "Mommy, I want to talk to Julia on the typing phone."

Mommy: "The what?"

C: "The typing phone. You know, like when you type on the computer to Rebecca and she types back and then my name appears."

Mommy: "You mean Google Talk?"

C: "I guess so. Here, let me show you."

Mommy: "How did you know how to open that?

C: (shurgs) "I dunno. I just knew."

Mommy: "Huh. Do you know how to fix the printer too?"

C: "Not yet, but give me a few minutes. I can figure it out."

Shopping assistance needed

Why is it that they don't make hats for kids over the age of two with ear flaps? Has anyone seen one anywhere? I was finally able to purchase C a jacket on Ebay at a reasonable price as I just refuse to pay full price for a winter jacket, but now I can't find a hat that isn't camouflage, which I refuse to buy on principle. The few that I do find he'll never keep on his head. I want ear flaps. He's never going to keep a scarf on, and quite honestly, it's a hazard at the playground.

BTW, the new spell checker on Beta? Fabu. If you need spell checker like I do, it is totally worth the switch.

Caved

I caved and moved to Beta. I couldn't resist the labels. But looks! Haloscan, my blogroll, and all three of my doohickys made the move with no assistance on my part! I procrastinated long enough that they figured it out for me!

Look out for flying labels...

Settling in

Chaos is slowly being restored to our lives. When I leave in the morning, the breakfast dishes are in the sink and the beds are unmade. If the toys are out in the playroom, oh well. Life is good. Except the chaos bothers me more than it used to. Not enough so that I am inspired to DO anything about it, but enough so a little voice over my shoulder sometimes whispers "Wasn't it NICE to walk into a clean house?" I then promptly swat that little voice away with a big booming "But I was a B-I-T-C-H on wheels to my kids, and that was no fun either."

Beyond the chaos, we seem to be slowing settling into our new home and routines. After several retrievals from the old house, Dumb Cat seems to have figured out where the people now live, and returns after his jaunts around town. Although he insists on howling to be let in at the front door, which means I only hear him if I am walking upstairs and he seems less than enthused about the back door for reasons that are clear only to him.

The kids alternate between "We love the new house" and "We miss the old house," which is only to be expected I suppose. I just wish they would start sleeping for longer than two hours a clip. The toys are all back out, and several old favorites have been rediscovered. Like the Legos and puzzles, which disappeared with the arrival of the for sale sign, as who has time to pick up 500 Legos and sort fifteen puzzles when someone is about to arrive on your doorstep?

M has flown off to, well, someplace, as tis the season to travel. Except right now he is trapped at Newark, because it is raining and Newark doesn't seem to like to send planes up in the air when it rains. But when he is in residence he is wallowing in the joy of a fully networked house and a screened porch that keeps the bugs at bay.

I've been battling with the various appliances, most notabley the microwave and I have yet to have a meeting of the minds. I need to get pointers from Rebecca on cook times as I think it is the same brand as she used to have. I LOVE the new range, I can actually control the burner heat instead of having "super hot" and "off." The oven, however, seems to be quirky. I think I actually need to dig out the manual as there are several buttons that are not self-explanatory, and the two meals I have tried to cook in there have turned out dismally. Clearly I am missing some critical piece of information, like how to actually get it to turn on. The dishwasher and drier rock, they both take half the time as our old ones saving both time and money. Whirlpool is my new favorite brand folks.

I know I promised pictures, but the camera is among the missing items yet to be discovered. Perhaps tomorrow it will be found as I actually need to pick up for A's little playgroup who are arriving to inspect the house with furniture and toys. Although these people know me well enough now that I don't really feel obligated to pick up for them. Except, well, I do because I'm compulsive that way. But I like to THINK that I won't pick up for them. Ahem.

So hopefully in a few days things will return to as close to normal as possible, and I might have enough brain cells regenerate to be able to whip out a decent post. Or, I'll just continue in my current vein until I throw up my hands and start posting random pictures of the cats.

May I introduce you to my new favorite activity?

The New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest. I spend my whole week writing captions. I have yet to win, but if I do you'll be the first to know! Try it, you too can waste hours trying to be witty.

Baby it's cold inside

M and I had some hope that the new house was going to be warmer than the old one. It IS a century and a half older.... But based on how cold it was downstairs this morning, I'm thinking that we were wrong on this one. Apparently the lovely windows that let in all the light? They also let in the cold. Not that I am complaining, I'll take cold and light over cold and dark any day.

It was actually cold enough that I went to check my blog from last year to find out when I caved and turned the heat on in the house. Apparently I have a ways to go. And apparently my blogging was as uninspired last year as it is this one. It was amazing to see how much A's hair has grown though. But that swimsuit? She still wears it. Complete with pajamas.

But wait! A door prize!

In my unpacking frenzy, I apparently scratched my cornea. So there will be no pictures for a few days, currently my world is crystal clear on the left and bizarrely blurry and multi-colored on the right and looking through the viewfinder made me dizzy. The eye doctor assured me I should be back to some semblance of normal by Monday, which is a good thing as if I can't drive C to preschool and let the teachers bear the brunt of his excitement and stress-induced frenzy for a few hours, I will be doing a lot more than scratching my eye out...

Old habits, new space

Apparently I am going to have to change my blogging habits in the new house. I used to blog standing up with my computer on top of the TV cabinet. It drove M nuts, he would see me standing there even after the kids went to bed and insist that I sit on the couch. I didn't have anything against the couch, it was just a pain to unplug my computer and plug it in someplace else, and my battery doesn't hold a charge well. I also liked to delude myself into believing that I might be burning a few extra calories by shifting from foot to foot and doing calf raises so I could see the screen a bit better (hey, a girl can dream).

But the family room in the new house (how long before it is just home?) is much smaller, and the TV cabinet is wedged into a corner leaving no room for me or my laptop. Plus, the armchair is conveniently located next to a plug and a large window overlooking the backyard. So here I sit. And it feels, well, not quite right. And there definitely needs to be a side table of some sort so I have someplace to put my coffee. Right now it is precariously perched on the window sill, and the cat is bound to knock it over in the next few minutes.

I know I will get used to my new blogging space and learn to love it. What's not to like about sitting down, right? But I'll miss all those extra calories burned...

And we're in...

We are moved. I hate junk boxes. Hate. Them. I have spent the last 3 hours wandering around the house with random articles wondering where I could possible stash them. Remind me that the birthday candles are in the hall closet, OK? Thanks...

Anyway, the kids rooms are totally unpacked, the rest of the house is a disaster. Although our phone and wireless is working, so life isn't all bad. I'll try to post some pics tomorrow. Right now it all feels rather surreal to see furniture in a house that we have hung out in empty for so long.

Now where did I stash the sushi menu....

Meme meme, meme meme

Gwynnethe over at one of my new reads tagged me for this one. And since it is T-minus 36 hours to the move, a meme is about the right speed for me! I have a vague suspicion that I still own someone else a meme, if it is you, let me know and I'll jump right to it! Not that I am procastinating or anything...

1. What is your occupation? CHO (Chief Home Officer) in case you haven't bothered to read my profile..

2. What color are your socks right now? Black, grey and aqua stripped. I like funky socks since I spend most of my day shoeless.

3. What are you listening to right now? A calling me from the top of the stairs "IS quiet time OVER yet? HELLO?? HEL-LO?" Oh, and Blues Too Much by the John Mehegan Trio.

4. What was the last thing that you ate? A Veggie Delite sandwich from Subway. Today was A and my girl's lunch out since C ate at school.

5. Can you drive a stick shift? It is my preferred mode of transportation. Although right now I drive an automatic.

6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Brown. Plain old brown.

7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My real estate agent. And no, she had no good news for me.

8. Do you like the person who sent this to you? One of my new blog finds! So far so good!

9. How old are you today? 34 years, 10 months.

10. Favorite drink? caffeine Free Diet Coke

11. What is your favorite sport to watch? I don't tend to watch sports. At all. I guess college football, but only if it involves a lazy afternoon on the couch with nachos and a nap.

12. Have you ever dyed your hair? Um, I have no idea what my real color is. Really.

13. Pets? Two cats, Millie and the General (otherwise known as Lazy Cat and Dumb Cat).

14. Favorite food? Ohh, tough one. I would have to go with sushi. Closely followed by a frozen pizza.

15. What was the last movie you watched? Movie? What is this that you speak of? I think it was The Weatherman. At least that is the last one I stayed awake for...

16. What was the last book you read? Play Ball Amelia Bedelia. Oh, wait. You were talking about GROWNUP books? Umm, hold on. Oh! Right! Japanland. I highly, highly recommend.

17. What do you do to vent anger? I yell. Then I stomp my foot. Like a two year old. Yep.

18. What was your favorite toy as a child? Breyer horses. And paper dolls.

19. What is your favorite fall or spring? Fall

20. Hugs or kisses? Hugs.

21. Cherries or blueberries? Blueberries

22. Do you want your friends to email you back? With one exception, my friends don't email.

23. Living arrangements? Lost in a sea of boxes.

24. When was the last time you cried? I actually don't know. Sometime in the last few weeks, but it wasn't in the last few days at least. Now ask me when the last time I threw up my hands and exclaimed "I GIVE UP!" was...

25. What did you do last night? Ate a frozen pizza and packed boxes of random junk.

26. Favorite smells? Freshly cut grass. Bread in the oven.

27. What inspires you? I'm not one to be inspired, I must admit.

28. What are you afraid of? Dying before my kids are grownup.

29. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? I don't like hamburgers. If faced with no other options, a thin one smothered in cheese and burnt to a crisp. But generally I would prefer to starve.

30. Favorite dog breed? Great Pyranese.

31. Number of keys on your key ring? HA! Let's see. New house key, old house key. Garage door key. My car key, M's car key, key to my parent's house in Maine. Keys to my old office (from four years ago). Guess it is time to clean off my key chain, huh?

32. How many years at your current job? Four and a half.

33. Favorite day of the week? Friday

34. How many states have you lived in? Three. Six if you count family summer homes and every other weekend at my dad's growing up.

35. Favorite holidays? Groundhog Day. Really. That doesn't count as a holiday? Sure it does! In fact, the kids and I have decided to throw annual Groundhog Day parties. Because who doesn't like a good party in the middle of winter?

35. Ever driven a Motorcycle or heavy machinery? Does a tractor count? I used to drive a tractor. And a pick up truck. Motorcycles scare me.

Why? Why?

Why is it that when you move, you always end up with boxes of random crap despite your best efforts to pack efficiently and by category? I have had three months to move, and yet today I found myself randomly throwing stuff into boxes because I had no idea how to categorize it. How would you deal with a drawer containing artwork, scotch tape, a screwdriver, scraps of paper with phone numbers on it, and my master's thesis (yes, I found a copy of my thesis in a kitchen drawer. Heaven help me). I can tell you what I did, dump it into a box and label it "random junk from left hand drawer in old kitchen." Hey, at least I will know where to look when I am searching for the random junk..

Yet another reason I'm not going to miss this house

It takes our dishwasher two and a half hours to run. I timed it today. That's on the normal setting, with no drying involved. And the worst part? The dished never ever get completely clean. There are always a few that have to go through again or get hand washed.

If only I could protect the innocence forever

After my cousin's wedding this weekend:

C: "Mommy, the very instant I am a grownup I am going to be married."

Mommy: "C, I'm glad you want to get married, but it might take some time for you to find the right person. It's a big commitment."

C: "Well, when I find the right girl we're going to get married. Or the right boy. I might marry a boy you know."

Mommy: "What is important is that you find someone you love C. And who loves you."

C: "I know Mommy, I know."

Sleeps

Five sleeps until we move. C informed me of that fact this morning. Thanks kiddo. I don't really know how we started calling nights sleeps, except that it seemed like the easiest way to explain to C how long it was until some exciting event occurred. Apparently, the move is exciting enough to count as a sleep-worthy event.

At what age does a real concept of time kick in? C gets it, generally, but if you get over a week out it all becomes a little fuzzy. Then it is "in a long time" or "a long time ago." A is currently doing the very cute "Yesterday we will go to the party" and "Tomorrow was a lot of fun." I was sad when C finally figured out how to use time terms appropriately, and will be equally sad when A moves on. To the point that I'm not really correcting her. Hey, that's what preschool is for, right?

I also haven't worked very hard with C on learning to tell time. Mostly for my own sanity. Once he gets good at time, my mommy five minutes (or ten minutes or fifteen minutes) will have to actually approximate real time. And it will be impossible to pop the kids into bed early on nights that some sanity needs to be restored. As it is, my days in that regard are numbered. C keeps asking what time his bedtime is and I keep responding with a vague "Oh, when it is night-night time. " But apparently he needs a more specific answer for preschool sharing time next week. During which he is going to learn that the other children in the world have much later bedtimes. WHAT are those teachers thinking? Did they not have children of their own? Although I suppose that when he learns to tell time I can send him back to bed when he wakes up before the crack of dawn...

Just maybe it all is sinking in....

C: "I'm very angry with you because you won't let me pick the show."

Mommy: "You HIT your sister over the head with a drum stick. Did you really think I was going to let you pick a show?"

C: "Yes."

Mommy: "If you were the mommy, would you have let you pick?"

C: "No."

Mommy: "Well then. There you go."

C: "Fine. A can pick the show."

Overheard at the Gym

Mommy: "So C, what was your favorite part of t-ball?"

C: "The end."

Mommy: "The end? Why? Did you do a fun cheer?"

C: "No, we stopped playing. T-ball makes me too tired."

Mommy: "Oh. Um, OK. Maybe you need a better breakfast. One with protein."

C: "No, I think I need to sit on the sidelines and watch."

Whose brilliant idea was this again?

As I stand in my house staring at all of the crap that somehow needs to get boxed and moved by next Thursday, I have to just walk away and ignore it. Because really, the one-man, two small children moving company hasn't been working out so well. Sure, we got the china and most of the crystal taken care of quickly, and clapped ourselves on the back. But now, there is the book collection that rivals a small town library (and there are no built in book cases at the new house, so I'm loathe to pack up the books knowing they will sit in their boxes for months or years until we get some made). There is the antique grandfather clock my great great grandmother had shipped over from England. I'm terrified to even touch it for fear it breaks and the wrath of my family crushes me. But at least I know where that is going if I ever get up the guts to take it apart and move it.

There are the remaining toys that I think will have to be smuggled out in the cover of darkness. The contents of the laundry room and cleaning closet. And the garage. The garage makes me cry. But at least I can claim that M has to deal with than one since it is (mostly) all of his treasured possessions (cough, cough). There is the stereo system that was never hooked up after our last move. I wonder if it even works anymore after accumulating four years of dust.

To top it off, the fail-safe babysitting plan designed to make sure my children are happily distracted and entertained while the contents of their home are removed and reinstated, crumbled around my feet yesterday. Lovely friend, who has saved me more times than I can count in the few weeks since Rebecca moved across the pond, has graciously offered to save me again, and I figure the cost of the thank you gift I am going to feel obligated to place on her doorstep is going to be much greater than the cost of hiring a sitter for the day. But at least I won't have to worry about the kids getting trampled by the moving men or escaping out the front door. Offering to entertain four kids under five for eight hours. She is a saint. Really.

How do people do this? Really. I can't begin to imagine how Rebecca managed to get her whole house sorted into storage, boat, and air shipments. With her children in tow nonetheless. If I ever, ever make noises about moving again, please point me to this post. My mother keeps telling me I will be so happy once we move, but I think I would be even happier if I was committed someplace.

I'll take what I can get

Today I was able to introduce a protein source other than dairy back into my children's diet. Tofu. Oh, how I love you tofu. Even though the brand of choice can only be found at the grocery store 20 minutes from here, I will happily shlep the distance to be able to claim that my children do in fact eat protein when the pediatrician asks in November.

I have nothing against liquids but....

...today they are not my friend. This morning started off bright and early with the downstairs toilet overflowing because C used an ENTIRE ROLL of toilet paper and then tried to flush it down the ancient toilet. While I was cleaning that up, A found a balloon and proceeded to make her own water balloon in the kitchen sink and dump it all over that floor.

After lunch we headed over to the new house and discovered that the fridge had defrosted at some point in the recent past and the ice from the ice maker had melted and pooled on the kitchen floor. Which is now warped. And besides warping the floor, the water had leaked down into the finished basement. Upon returning home, A dumped a sippy cup of soy milk onto the couch and while I was cleaning that up, she took off her diaper and peed on the rug.

I am now out of: toilet paper, paper towels, dish towels, bath towels, and carpet cleaner. Can I cry yet? Please oh pretty please?

Edited to add: Just as I posted this, A just took off her diaper and peed on the rug again. And I have no way to clean it up. I think it is time for everyone (me included) to head to bed and hope that tomorrow is a better day.

Cleanliness comes at a price

And in my world that price is a cleaning service. Having someone else clean the house has been one of the non-negotiable budget items for years. When we first got married, M cleaned the house. After M switched to his current job that requires many late nights and travel, we hired someone to clean every other week. She was the best investment we ever made in our marriage. Well worth giving up dinners out or movies or other such luxury items when the budget was tight.

I can't clean. I fully, completely, and openly embrace my inability to clean. Sure, I can clean a bathroom in a pinch. And I have been known to whip out a vacuum if the cat hair gets out of control between cleaning dates. Once, I even bleached the sink and scrubbed the garbage disposal with a toothbrush because Martha told me it is what a good housewife should do. But, all of my cleaning endeavors have been limited in scope. There have only been a few occasions that I have had to tackle the whole house on my own, and none of them ended very well.

But, our current budget has gotten tight enough that we (I) finally caved and agreed to let the cleaner go. We had given up eating out and movies that didn't come from the library ages ago. I can't remember the last time we had takeout sushi (or takeout of any kind). We are quickly chewing through the reward points accumulated on the credit cards over the years to buy the few items we desperately need for the new house and purchase M a few suits that actually fit him now that he has lost several sizes. There is really no place else in the budget to cut that makes logical sense. We could sell M's car and drive him to the train, but then the kids and I would have to wake up at 11pm to pick him up. I suppose we could start eating pasta every night and save on the food budget, but none of us actually like pasta, so the savings would be lost in the need to buy even more clothes.

No, the cleaner made sense. So this weekend I tried to tackle the new house on my own. I offered up the job to M, but he felt inspired to spend time with the kids and take them to church and then the fun fall carnival downtown. So Sunday morning, with only a modicum of guilt about missing church to clean (cleanliness is next to Godliness, right?) I surveyed the new house with vacuum and broom in hand. "Well, at least there is no furniture to dust" I thought to myself and headed into the void with iPod in hand.

I am sure that the neighbors peeking through the trees wondered what on earth I was doing. Honestly, I wasn't sure myself. I couldn't decide if I should tackle jobs by task (vacuum everything first, then mop and scrub) or by room (all bathrooms, all bedrooms). I finally went with a totally inefficient but somewhat logical approach of doing everything I couldn't do later in the week with the kids in tow. So I scrubbed the showers and tubs, then vacuumed and mopped the upstairs and front hall. Because of my utter inefficiency, this took me almost four hours. And I still have the kitchen and playroom left. The house ain't that big folks.

I know there are people out there who clean their own homes and clean them well. I applaud all of you. It is a useful skill to have and, quite honestly, I envy it. I am never quite satisfied with how someone else cleans my house, but as evidenced by this weekend, if the cleaning were left up to me it would take my whole week. But since I am left to my own devices for the foreseeable future, any words of advice for the cleaning challenged? How to you clean your house? Does everything get done at once or do you do one room a day? Inquiring minds want (and need) to know...

Menu - Week Three

Well, I stuck to the menu last week, but something went slightly wrong with each meal. Oh,, and then there was the incident with the cat and the chicken that required M to make an emergency trip to Trader Joe's on the way home from the train, but we won't go there....Perhaps this week I can stick to the menu AND actually successfully complete a meal (cough, cough, sputter, sputter).

Sunday - Maple-Mustard Pork Tenderloin and Maple Glazed Sweet Potatoes

Monday - Caribbean Sweet Potatoes and Black Beans (using leftovers, double bonus points!)

Tuesday - La Bamba Casserole

Wednesday - Spinach and Cheddar Quiche, Caesar Salad

Thursday - Leftovers Night (more bonus points!)

Friday - Tilapia Filets with Cilantro Butter, steamed veggies and rolls

Saturday - Whatever I get served at my cousin's wedding!

Fabulous

Yesterday the kids and I had a fabulous meet up with Suzanne (Mimilou) and Liesl (Come, Mommy). It was everything a bloggy meetup should be. Good company, well behaved kids, and good conversation.

Liesl was as wonderful as ever, and Suzanne bears such a resemblance to Rebecca that threw me for quite a loop. So Suzanne, please forgive me if I kept staring at you, because it was a bit odd knowing that you weren't really her with shorter hair.

I have to say that I was not at my finest conversation-wise, and kept getting sidetracked by random thoughts such as "Damn, did I call the floor guy back?" and "Boxes, I need more boxes. Must get boxes." But as Rebecca consoled me this afternoon via my favorite thing ever, Skype, I can be rather flaky and do tend to ramble on incoherently, so hey, you got to see the real me. I still felt bad that I couldn't quite wake up enough from my moving induced fog to follow a conversation through to the end and to ask the pressing questions weighing on my mind such as "How DO you manage to finish a book let alone write about it" and "What did you think of Little Earthquakes because I just found it unread in my bedside table?" Or for Liesl, "How was Gran-Gran's visit" and "How are the new ferrets settling in?"

Anyway, thanks again, sorry for the flake-factor, and I hope we can do it again! Maybe y'all can shlep up to the new house, if I ever make it in there without being institutionalized someplace.

I guess things don't actually stay the same

You've Changed 76% in 10 Years

Compared to who you were ten years ago, you've changed a great deal. In fact, you're probably in a completely different phase of your life - and very happy about it!

How Much Have You Changed in 10 Years?

It's actually kind of scary how different my life was ten years ago...especially since I tend to be someone who doesn't like change.

As seen at Mimilou .

Apparently spelling is hereditary too

I have a spelling issue. Which anyone who has read my comments/emails/posts without a spell check readily available knows. I believe (and Nana will correct me if I am wrong) it was determined very late in the game that I had mild dyslexia, but had compensated enough that it wasn't worth doing anything about except insist that I type all of my papers and have spell check available at all times.

Over the past several weeks, C has proudly shown me his writing. Which is perfect, except that it is backwards. In that if you held a mirror up to it, it would read perfectly correctly. I can't replicate here, but imagine that "baby" was spelled "ybab" with the letters facing the opposite direction. The first time I shrugged it off. The second time, I was ready to race him off to whoever you race off to if you suspect a learning disability. At age 4 (and a half as C would say.) Really, I'm not that type of parent, but I suffered through this, and want to nip it in the bud if I can to save him the suffering I experienced until I got my own computer.

So do I freak out at this point? Am I over-reacting?

Just for kicks, once I spell check this, I will tell you how many errors I had in this short little post. And the answer is...twenty-three. I had twenty-three spelling errors. And that isn't even counting the ones I caught with a quick once over.

Damn those genes anyway

As many of you (OK, all of you) know, A has some sleep issues. She can't stay up much past 7pm, and awakes ready for the day at about 5 or 6am, despite our best efforts to shift her schedule. Some helpful scientists have now determined that "morning larks" (gee that sounds perky) are that way because of a mutant gene.

As no one who knows M would call him a morning lark, I am clearly the guilty party in the genetic roll of the dice on this one. I guess this means I have to stop moaning about it, huh?

Riddle me this

C and A have discovered the childhood mecca of stupid jokes. Over the last few days, I have Googled joke after joke, and tried to teach them the basics. The standard knock knock jokes, the chicken jokes, the how do you jokes. A few of them they have finally mastered. Many of them have been mangled beyond belief.

C: "Knock Knock"

Mommy "Who's there?"

C: "Pizza"

Mommy "Pizza who?"

C: "I want pizza for dinner!" Both C and A burst out laughing and fall off of their chairs.

Or there is my current favorite:

C: "How do you get a mouse to smile?"

Mommy: "I don't know!"

C: "Say pizza!"

Mommy: "Uh, I think it is supposed to be 'Say cheese!"

C: "Silly mommy. If people smile at 'Say cheese' then mice must smile at 'Say pizza!'"

Mommy: "And how do you figure that?"

C: "Well, mice love cheese and we love pizza. Get it?"

Mommy: "Not really, no."

C: "A, do you get it?"

A: "Oh yeah. Silly silly C!"

Apparently, my sense of humor is sorely lacking.

Menu Week Two

A little late, I know. But M is late tonight, so I didn't have to really plan anything for tonight (Hey! Chicken nuggets are a totally respectable meal I tell you...). So without further ado...

Tuesday - Turkey Tenderloins with Cornbread Stuffing (side of some veggie out of the freezer)

Wednesday - Potato Crusted Red Snapper, Caesar Salad

Thursday - Turkey Burgers with Sweet Potato Fries

Friday - Chicken Fajitas

Saturday - Chicken Pot Pie (a special request from C)

I know, I know, heavy on the poultry this week. But I am trying to use up my freezer stash of random crap before we move so I don't have to beg space from other people's freezers while the deep freeze is out of commission, and I seem to have accumulated a fair amount of chicken.

Semantics

Every so often over the last six months M has asked me "Are you going to miss this house?" I look around, and honestly answer "Not really, no." To which he sniffs a bit and huffs and puffs about the charm and the historical yadda yadda and then we move on to rehashing the decision to buy the new house all over again.

But his question is a good one. Will I miss the gorgeous, 1771 original, hardwood floors with little grooves that make it impossible to get the bits of dried peas off the kitchen floor without a pair of tweezers? Not so much. Will I miss the wood beamed family room that oozes charm, but never gets a drop of direct sunlight? Nope. See ya. Will I miss C's gabled bedroom that screams "George Washington slept here!" but everytime I walk into it, I hit my head? Can't say that I will. Will I miss the creaking floorboards outside the kids' rooms that wakes them up every night, the pipes that freeze every. single. winter., or the bathroom sink that only runs cold water? Again, I don't think so.

But, right now, even though 90% of my stuff is now in residence at the other house, this house is home. It is where we have slept and played and cried and yelled for the last four years, longer than I have ever lived anyplace except my mother's house. This is where C learned to talk, A learned to walk, and both kids learned how to climb up and down stairs with ease. It is where we looked forward to returning to after every trip, and where I curl up when I need to get away from things.

Soon the furniture and books and toys will all be installed at the new house,but it isn't going to feel like home right away. When the light streams into the playroom, and I sip my coffee and watch the kids play with a smile, it will seem odd. When I walk across a thick, tacked down runner to check on the kids at night instead of creaky floorboards, it will be not quite right. When I drive home from the grocery store, the playground, a playdate, I am fairly confident that I am going to miss the turn and have to circle around the block for months to come.

I'm not quite sure how long it takes to make a house a home. Or if there is some magical ingredient that will speed the process along. Probably not. So to answer M's question more specifically, I'm not going to miss the house itself, but for the first few days and weeks and months, I am going to miss the comfort of having a home.

Overheard at Bedtime

C: (staring up at the kitchen ceiling instead of lying in bed) "Look! There is a hole in the ceiling."

Mommy: "M! There is a hole in the ceiling!"

M: "Look at that. There is a hole in the ceiling. Not good. How did that happen?"

Mommy: "C was jumping in his room today."

M: "We need to get out of this house."

Blogging lite

I'll probably be following the blogging lite plan for the next few weeks (not that I have been doing such a stupendous job of keeping up recently anyway). We have finally set a move date (and no, we haven't sold the old house, thanks for asking though) and the logistical details of moving a household around the corner seem to be eating up my life. Especially since we decided to do as much of the move as possible ourselves after seeing the quote from the movers. So the kids and I have become our own little moving outfit. Yesterday was the crystal, today is the china. This weekend I think I will tackle the deep dark recesses of the crawl space attic. Shiver.

Anyway, I'll give updates as I can, and once we are in I will regale you with the details and pictures. If I can find the camera that is.

M is such a good sport

So today's culinary misadventures are a result of chef error rather than equipment malfunction. Apparently, Cod Poached in a Spicy Tomato Broth is spicy enough without doubling the amount of spice in the recipe. Just in case anyone other than the Kleenex box was wondering. In my defense (because one must be defensive about such things) M and I generally think that recipes require much more seasoning than called for. And I was using a crushed red pepper that I had found in the depths of my cabinet and I swear must have been there for four years. So my assumption was that it was not nearly as potent as a newly acquired spice would have been.

M: "Wow, it has a bit of a kick to it." Then "This is spicy, my pallet is clearly out of practice." Finally "I get a home-cooked meal AND clear sinuses without taking my allergy meds. Two for the price of one." He every bite, bless his heart.

So, for the record, Cod Poached in a Spicy Tomato Broth=Good, but don't tamper with the seasonings. Just don't.

Not an auspicious beginning

Well, last night I did indeed make the Indian curry (recipe will be emailed to those who asked for it). And it would have been rather good, if my new crockpot had in fact functioned appropriately. I popped the food in at 9 am, headed off to start our day fully expecting that I would come home to the smell of dinner wafting through the house. Instead, I returned home to the smell of burning potatoes. Apparently, the new "high-tech" crockpot I asked for for my birthday last year doesn't actually operate like a "normal" crockpot, or so customer service told me. It heats food really, really quickly, and then reduces the temperature. But sometimes the thermostat is "a little temperamental" so I really need to check on it every so often. Umm, correct me if I am wrong, but isn't the point of the crockpot that I don't actually have to be paying attention while my food cooks? Needless to say, I'll be returning to the "turn the dial to low and forget it" model for future culinary adventures.

M was a great sport and ate it, but the leftovers were not saved for lunch. But I did have all the ingredients! I did! And dinner was on the table at the right time, even if it wasn't quite edible. That has to count for something, right? Right?

The ultimate bedtime stall

C; (Emerging from his room for the 700th gazillionth time) "Mommy, I just want to have a happy talk."

Mommy: "You have one minute for a happy talk."

C: "OK, when does the one minute start?"

Mommy:"Right now."

C:"I just wanted to say that I love you and I am happy when you are happy. That makes this a happy talk. Because I am talking about being happy. How much longer do I have?"

Mommy: "About 30 seconds."

C: "Well, I don't think the time we spent talking about how much time I had left should count because it wasn't actually happy talk."

Mommy: "Your one minute is up. I love you, now go to bed."

C: "Oh, OK. But we are going to talk about this in the morning. I don't think it was very fair."

All good plans

I am challenging myself publicly to put together a weekly meal plan, buy groceries ahead of time and then actually make the meals that I planned. As part of my problem with meal planning seems to be finding the plan once it is made, I decided that if I post it up here I'll at least be able to find it. And perhaps if I can find it, and I know I have to report back about the recipes selected, I'll really make them.

For my first week, I wasn't actually able to figure out a whole week worth of menus before I had to do the shopping, so I figured I would ease myself in a bit. Plus, I've already lost the menu and had to recreate on the fly at the grocery store. Hopefully I remembered correctly or else I'll be scratching my head on Friday wondering why on earth there is a bunch of cilantro and a head of broccoli in the fridge. Anywhoo, here it goes.

Monday: Leftovers, M is working late

Tuesday: Indian Curry with Chicken in the crockpot (side of brown rice)

Wednesday: Cod Poached in a Spicy Tomato Broth (side of salad and roll)

Thursday: Turkey Empanadas (side of black bean and corn salad)

Friday: Grilled Chicken in a Cranberry Marinade (side of grilled veggies and some rice to be named later from the pantry)

Saturday and Sunday: TBD.

OK, now it is out there. I have to do this right?

Failing in my wifely duties

I have apparently been failing in my wifely duties. While Groomzilla, Ridiculous Chick, and Rebecca appear in my blogroll, M's new blog does not. For which I greatly apologize. But in my defense, he was having some issues with identification (i.e. his first and last name were appearing on posts) in the beginning, so I was rather underwhelmed by the prospect of linking to him. But now that the technical issues have been fixed, I am happy to direct you to M's blog, and take complete control of mine back.

Happy blogging M...

Overheard at Bedtime

C: "Mommy, it's so nice to have a nice Mommy."

Mommy: (swooning) "Aww. thank you C. That is so great to hear."

C: "Well, you're not always nice. But you were nice tonight."

And then there were two

I think we need to reevaluate the whole pushing of bedtime to 8pm thing, don't you?

Nap Shmap

This is what happens when you try to push a non-napping toddler's bedtime an hour later to try and get her to start sleeping past 5am.




She is still asleep on the dining room floor. I'm unclear on how to proceed. If she sleeps, she'll never go to bed. But despite both C's and my best attempts, she refuses to open her eyes and move.

Overheard from the back seat

C: "A, who are you talking to on the phone?"

A: "Your teacher."

C: "Why are you talking to my teacher?"

A: "I'm telling her that you can't go to school."

C: "What? But I want to go to school!"

A: (Holding up a finger) "Shhh. Hello? C's teacher? Yeah, hi. C can't come to school today. Uh huh. Yeah. Because I want to play with him. Okay, bye."

C: "Mommy! Mommy! I want to go to school. A, call them back and tell them I WANT to go to school."

Mommy: "C, she doesn't actually have a working phone. It's a pretend one. And she doesn't know your teacher's number. Calm down."

C: " Oh, right. A, were you just pretending?"

A: "Yes silly. My phone is out of juice."

Bullets of forgetfulness

• Today I got the November issue of a cooking magazine tooting the joys of roast turkey. I also received a reminder from my dentist of an appointment in November. I'm sorry, am I missing a month or two here? Last I checked it was early verging on mid-September. If the dentist thinks his reminder will do me any good, he will be unpleasantly surprised when I don't show up on November 14th. In fact, I bet none of you will remember to remind my on November 13th of my appointment on the 14th.


• To prove my utter inadequacy in the remembering things department, I dragged C to the pool today for his second swimming lesson of the fall. I sent him in, the swimming teacher gave me an odd look and sent him back out again. "Uh, Chichimama? You missed his lesson. It was half an hour ago." See? If I can't remember the one activity I have my children signed up for in a week there is clearly no way I will remember an appointment seven weeks from now.

• I went to the grocery store twice today and both times managed to forget honey, the one item we really needed because my children will only eat things dipped in honey right now. Chicken in honey, grilled cheese in honey and, get this, Cherrios in honey. Do y'all think I should just break down and buy the sugar cereal? Cause it would probably be a lot cheaper.

• I can't seem to remember the name of one of C's teachers and C refuses to tell me. I know it begins with an F, but is it Flynn? Fowler? Fluffer-Nutter? Who knows? Apparently not me. And, in my defense, she was a last minute switch in for another teacher whose name began with an F so I spent the whole summer thinking her name was something else.
  

• While I am on the topic of names, do you know how many women I know in this town and can't for the life of me remember their names? They tell me, I forget, then they know my name and I am too embarrassed to ask theirs again. Please tell me I am not the only one. I generally remember their child's name, does that count for something?
  

I'm sure there are more bullets of forgetfulness, I just can't remember them.

So long and thanks for all the sushi

While Rebecca and I had planned on saying a last goodbye this afternoon, life got in the way and instead of a tearful in-person farewell, our last conversation for a while was a flurry of "I need Joyce's phone number" and "Don't forget to get the brisket out of the freezer after we leave" via cell phone. I actually think it was better that way. After our last take-out sushi binge last night I cried enough tears to send their "by boat" container halfway across the Atlantic, and probably would have sent it the rest of the way this afternoon had we had our last exchange of hand-me-downs and hugs.

So in lieu of a tearful farewell, I hope your flight was safe, I hope Evan didn't fly the Business Class coop, and good luck on the school interviews next week. You know where to find me if you need me.

Overheard at Bedtime

Tonight as I was bawling after saying goodbye to Rebecca ...

C: "Mommy, it's not worth getting worked up over this. They're just going away for - for how long again? Two weeks?"

Mommy: "Two years."

C: "Right. Two years. It's OK. It's not that long. You'll be fine."

Mommy: "Thanks for the support C."

C: "No problem. I do what I can."

Before and After

So here are some before and after pics of the family room and dining room. The family room looks much more impressive in person, I swear. The dining room needs a second coat, and we are still undecided about the chair rail, so that is still primer white but you can get the gist.

Family room before

Family room after (the paneling is getting ripped out someday, but we just couldn't face it this year)

Dining room before

Dining room after

Maybe I should get depressed more often. It seems to be the best way for me to actually get stuff accomplished...

For the birds

This whole having to get out of the house by 8:30 to get C to school is for the birds. We are so, so screwed next year. I think I might be reconsidering afternoon kindergarten.

Perhaps if we work towards an orderly exit from the house one step at a time? My goal for today is to get A out of her pajamas for drop off....

The ultimate parenting failure

I am going to have to fake the first day of school picture. The camera battery isn't charged. I feel like such a loser parent.

For the curious....

Almost a week past skunking, and seven baths later, dumb cat still smells of skunk. At least he hasn't been dumb enough to get on my bed. Perhaps he does have a brain or two in there after all...

Interior decoration question of the day

So in an effort to keep my mind otherwise occupied and my body out of bed this weekend, M and I went into overdrive working on the new house. The carpet is pulled up in the living room (and indeed, we do need to hire professionals to refinish the floor), the new banister is hung, the hallway is scraped, sanded and prepped, and the dining room is no longer fushia pink, but rather a lovely primer white. Which leads me to the interior decoration issue that has consumed our lives for the past 24 hours. What color does one paint a rather poorly installed chair rail?

We did briefly consider ripping out the chair rail and replacing it, M was all for the project but after inspecting the rail and the wall, I decided that it was going to be much more involved than it sounds, as there are actually TWO chair rails, a crappy piece of trim that would be easy to rip out, and then an original piece of molding (it might even be plaster) that the new trim is installed directly above, in a not very precise way. I'll try to take a picture today, it's hard to imagine without seeing it.

ANYWAY, below the chair rail is going to be a dark blue, and above a lighter blue. I am of the opinion that the chair rail should be the same off white as the rest of the trim. M thinks that we should paint it dark blue to match the bottom half of the room. Thoughts? Opinions? Advice?

Evidence

Apparently, the fact that my weight fluctuates based on my stress level is not only apparent to me and my fat and skinny jeans. After perusing the family photo albums, C did the following portraits of me.


Apparently, the top photo is a rendition of me now, the bottom one is a picture of me before A was born. Guess it's time to lose the baby weight, huh? Or, I could just keep eating these to die for ice cream bonbons from Trader Joes. Diet, bonbons. Diet, bonbons. Hmmm...

Oh, and my hair is not, and never has been curly. But apparently C likes women with curly hair so he took artistic license.

And so it goes

I've been waiting for it to happen, and wake up each morning surprised that it hasn't hit. Today I finally caved to the pressures of a house that won't sell and a best friend who is moving to London. I woke up cheerful and by 4pm I was a tearful mess. This is the first time I've actually been able to pinpoint the beginning of a depression. I am hoping that the fact that I can actually recognize what is happening will mitigate the symptoms. But right now I just want to crawl into my bed, pull the covers up, and will it all away.

Poor, Poor Cat

The cat still reeks of skunk. And I just can't let him into a house we are trying to sell. I feel just awful. I've set up his bed, food, and water in the garage, and just spent 45 minutes cuddling him on the patio (so of course now I smell like skunk). But the poor thing. I have a feeling that the cat door in the new house will be a moot point, after this the cat is never, ever going to go outside again. I know I sure wouldn't...

Be careful what you ask for...

A and C like to play a game they call "puppy." They take turns pretending to be a dog while the other tries to walk the dog, feed the dog, wash the dog, etc. I spend most of the game reminding them that "We will never, ever, have a dog. You know that, right kids?" But in general, I'm a big fan of puppy because it keeps them both happy and playing with each other for long periods of time.

Today puppy took an unexpected turn. C started asking A "Are you going to bite me puppy? Sometime puppies bite you know." I quickly pulled C aside and explained to him that if he kept asking A if she was going to bite him, eventually she probably would. After nodding agreement, back he went to playing puppy. "A, are you going to bite me? Sometimes puppies bite you know..." Seeing where this was headed, I put a premature end to puppy.

But a few hours later, I hear a yelp from the playroom as I am starting yet another load of skunky laundry. "Mommmmyyyyy! A BIT me!" wailed C. "I asked her if she was going to bite me, and then she DID!"

I have to say, I was torn. While A lost her ability to choose the TV show after dinner and a serious talking to about the evils of biting, I really just wanted to shrug my shoulders and tell C that he had it coming to him. I mean, what did he think was going to happen?

The things we keep

Although M might beg to differ, I consider myself pretty minimalist in the sentimental keeping of stuff department. Each child has a small tupperware bin into which I throw things like the first picture of Mommy that C drew, A's birth announcement, and C's first "report card." There are no locks of hair, there are no baby hats or receiving blankets, and almost all of the baby items and toys have gone to various charities or the church nursery.

But tonight I found myself digging through the toy box in A's room because M thought it might smell like skunk. I figured since I was digging through and sniffing for skunk, I might as well clear out the junk and save myself the hassle of moving it. As I sorted through, several items quickly hit the "try to wash" pile. The pink and purple baby blanket Nana knit. The white waffle blanket that was originally C's, but A quickly adopted as her "blue blanket." Baby Ellie, the small stuffed elephant that is sometimes requested as a sleeping companion. "Duckie," the yellow floppy blanket that Auntie Joy sent A for her first birthday. Several other items quickly hit the trash can: the collection of junky Easter bunnies, the rattles that neither of my kids ever actually shook, the wooden shape sorter that cost a fortune but was actually not at all useful as my kids quickly figured out that if you turned the shapes on their side you could shove them into whichever opening you wished.

But there were several items that I saved from the trash can at the last moment. The soft cloth cat book that C adored with a passion from six to eight months and then never looked at again. The pink bunny that made A giggle when she had pneumonia. The broken parts to the mobile that C would stare at for hours (ok, minutes) while I wept on the phone to anyone who would listen to how miserable I was post-partum. I know that someday I will probably discard all of these items. But I couldn't quite do it. Not yet. Not tonight. So instead I will lovingly soak them all in laundry detergent and hope for the best. Because some things are worth saving, at least for a while.

Skunked

Yep. It had to happen sometime. Dumb cat (who I DO love very much, despite his nickname) got skunked. The worst part? I didn't figure it out until he had come into the house and made himself comfortable for a few hours in the dirty laundry basket in my closet. At least it wasn't my bed, right?

I now have to face getting rid of the skunk smell from both my cat and my house. The laundry, I'm tempted to just toss it. It was pretty much the kids summer PJs and some in need of replacement anyway underwear. Anyone want to come give a cat a bath?

Edited to add a picture of the poor cat getting his third bath of the day...


Note the baby wash in the background. The poor cat now smells like a mix between a skunk and a baby, go figure. Poor, poor General. Not looking so powerful today.

When it rains it pours

It has been raining here, a lot. And my kids have been climbing the walls, and the tables, and the couches, and the beds. So in the interest of everyone's sanity, we actually ventured out into the backyard and did some puddle jumping in an attempt to burn off some energy.


And the givers of karma rewarded me for allowing my children to cover themselves from head to toe with mud and muck and wet flower goo, as I finally found the source of the water in the basement - poorly installed downspouts. I had gone around early this year and reattached all of the downspouts that had come loose, but of course I did this when it was nice and sunny outside. Today, standing out in the rain trying desperately to take cute pictures of the kids splashing, I started to wonder where exactly all the water in my yard was coming from. And when I set off to investigate, I found that the downspout closest to the water's entry point into the basement was not in fact dumping water at the fence where it was supposed to go, but instead was leaking water all along the foundation.

So I struggled and battled the shrubbery, realigned plastic pieces, made liberal use of duct tape and swore under my breath more than a few times, but the end result was this:



Still not perfect, but much better and I think a trip to Home Depot tomorrow should solve the problem entirely. Plus, the kids were entertained for a good 45 minutes. Say it with me...Chichimama rocks!

Best word verification ever

Shlupid. I love it. I think I am going to start using it in everyday conversation.

"Man, was that shlupid."

If only I had a brain

Last night at dinner M said something, or I said something, and then we both chimed in with "There's a blog post for you." And now I have no idea what the gem of an idea I was planning on sharing with y'all might be. Nor can I remember where I left my car keys, or what page I am on in my book, or why there is a stapler in the fridge. And there is something else I am supposed to remember to do, but I can't quite remember what.

Please tell me my brain will someday return to me, please? I feel like 34 is a little too young to be quite so forgetful.

She must be a saint

I met a woman at the playground the other day who proudly informed me that she had never once yelled at her child. The child in question was four, almost five. My first reaction was to slink off into a corner and hang my head in shame as I couldn't remember a day when I didn't at least raise my voice, or at the very least shriek "NOOO!" to my children. "I yell too much" I thought to myself. "Even this woman who has never met me before sees that I yell too much." But honestly, when you run to the bathroom to grab a towel to wipe up the milk someone spilled on the floor, then come back ten seconds later to both children about to jump off the dining room table, what's a mom to do?

I started to wonder "Is her child that well behaved that she doesn't need to yell? Maybe I've been going at this all wrong. Maybe if I spoke to my kids in an even tone they wouldn't be prone to jumping off of whatever high, dangerous object they can find. Maybe they would sit quietly when I told them to, and would refrain from gorging each other's eyes out over who gets to hold which Thomas train." Then I began to watch her child. And he wasn't any better behaved than my two. He certainly wasn't any worse, but he wasn't winning any gold stars in the behavior category either. He shoved and pushed, talked back to his mother, and pitched a fit when it was time to go.

I have to say, it made me feel so much better. But I also have to believe that she must be a saint. Because if my child kicked me and bit me on the way out of the playground, there is no way I could remain calm and repeat quietly "It's not nice to hurt people. I know you are upset that we have to leave, but we use our words." I just don't have that kind of inner zen right now. So to those mommies out there who manage not to yell, I salute you. And send some of your patience my way, OK?

The "I shoulds"

When I am up in the middle of the night I feel like I should really be productive, but somehow I never am. Right now I should be finishing one of the three books I am reading, or I should be writing a meaningful blog post for once, or I should be working on something that might actually make some money, or I should at least be folding the two baskets of laundry sitting in the family room. But instead I've been randomly wandering around the house trying to figure out what I should pack up next in anticipation of the move that will happen, someday.

Sigh. I guess I will get to that laundry now. It seems like the least productive thing I can be doing.

How many days?

So I started a post this morning about what a fabulous summer it has been not having structured activities, and how I am not at all looking forward to the start of school. You will never, ever, see it. I tempted fate by even starting to type the words.

It is time for school to start. We all need a break from each other. Or at least I need a break from them. It was one of those days.

Do you think it is too late to enroll A in Mothers Morning Out two days a week?

The elephant in the room

Did ya see that big ole elephant sitting over there? Yeah, that one, the one that keeps screaming "Rebecca is moving to London. HELLO??? Did you hear me??? REBECCA is moving to LON-DON." I've been ignoring it, but I guess eventually one has to stop and actually pay attention to the elephant jumping around in the room. I mean, an elephant. It's a large animal. And it eats peanuts. So the fact that I have been ignoring it given A's allergy issues is huge, huge, I tell you.

All kidding aside, I have been ignoring the fact that my closest friend is picking up and moving far, far away, far enough away that I will have to count on my fingers AND factor in family schedule differences to figure out whether it is safe to call or not. And although everyone is swearing by Skype, I have a hard time picturing it working all that well for me as I tend to wander around the house while chatting on the phone.

Never mind about the bigger issues, like the fact that I have to find a new emergency contact for my kids, and figure out some way to safely hide my spare key because the keeper of the spare key is no longer going to be available to just run over every time I lock myself out (and no, you don't REALLY want to know how frequently she arrives in my driveway dangling my key out of her window. It is just embarrassing.) And who is going to provide a mommy gut check at 7:45 in the morning when I need to decide whether to shlep to the pediatrician's office or not?

I'm actually going to have to take my kids into the grocery store when I need one more egg to finish a quiche, or a ziploc bag in which to marinate the steak. When the going gets rough, I'll have to deal with my kids on my own instead of inviting myself over for a playdate. And if I need a insta-sitter for an emergency doctor's appointment, I'm going to have to call around to figure out who might be free instead of booking on the spot because I know Rebecca's schedule backwards and forwards.

So I think I am going to just keep on ignoring that elephant over there jumping up and down for just a few more days. Perhaps when he figures out we are a peanut-free household he'll leave for greener pastures...

Overheard at the Playground

C's friend: "Come on! Come on! We have to save the world! Right now! It's critical!"

C: (looking dubious) "You go save the world. I think I'm just going to sit down and take a rest. But thanks for asking me!"

Overheard on a Playdate

C: (wailing) "I don't want you to leave, I just want it to be MY way..."

Truer words have never been spoken, at least by a four-year old.

Post Vacation Roundup

As M put it on the drive home (over the screams) "Well, this year wasn't NEARLY as bad as last year, and NEXT year should be just GREAT!" It always helps to have a "glass is half full" person in every relationship...

But seriously, the trip far exceeded my expectations. Or, rather, the kids far exceeded my expectations. They played well with each other, fairly well with Cousin C, and although they reverted back to some very undesirable sleep patterns, I have hope that they will straighten out after a few days at home. Of course C still whined his way through the vacation, "But I don't WANT to go to the beach..." "But I don't WANT to leave the beach...,"and A, despite her illness, still threw some massive temper tantrums. I think Cousin C learned some rather unpleasant habits during her stay. Sorry Auntie M...

OK, so on to the activities. Of which there were actually very few, as this was the vacation of the choo choo. We went to the Seashore Trolley Museum multiple times, took six (or was it seven) trolley rides and explored every inch of the place on foot. By the end of our second week all of the volunteers knew C's name and were giving him high fives. Then Saturday we took the kids to TtFTE, which is deserving of its own post, but let's just say C figured out within five minutes that Thomas wasn't real, and A started crying when she saw the bobble head Sir Tophen Hatt, so the visit wasn't even close to worth the outrageous price we paid for the tickets. But, we did manage to escape without buying anything besides a water and a muffin, so it wasn't all bad I suppose.

The highlight of the trip for C, (outside of the trolley museum of course) was the little camp at the beach community center. He took tennis lessons and had two hours of your basic, run-of-the-mill day camp from my childhood that involved freeze tag, scavenger hunts, animal crackers, and a host of knock-knock jokes. No theme days, no enriching activities, just good old camp. And thanks to his camp experience, I met people more people during those two weeks then I have in all of the previous 20+ summers put together. Of course they all know me only as C's mom, but it made me feel like royalty to be out to dinner with M and have kids on bikes stopping by to wave and point me out to their parents.

I know this is a cop out post, but quite honestly after the laundry and cleaning and day of normal activities, the beach seems very, very far away. And I am just a little jealous that Auntie M and Nana are still up there basking in the sun. So I'm choosing to move forward and comment that in two short weeks my children start school, and I get one morning a week (OK, two hours of one morning) in which to grocery shop in peace. And that my friends, is no small thing.

For your viewing pleasure, the beach in all its glory. And this picture was taken at 3pm. I love this beach.

Ahhhh. Broadband.

We are back. If you saw a black SUV speeding down the Eastern seaboard with two children screaming their heads off despite the liberal use of a laptop as DVD player, that was us. I now need to get the "two cats have been cooped up in my house for two weeks" smell out of my house, unpack, and replace the entire contents of my fridge due to an unfortunate failure to clean it out prior to our departure. The stench, it was not pretty.

And in case anyone had any doubts, my house, it is still very much for sale. I am sure the cat and fridge stench did nothing to improve its desirableness. On the upside, I can connect to the wide wide world of the internets at a moments notice again. Which will be useful as I google "cat stench removal."

Overheard at Lunch

After a 30+ minute monologue by A on everything under the sun...

C: "A, are you going to eat that grilled cheese or talk to it?"

A: "Um, I don't know!"

C: "Well, if you aren't going to eat it can I?"

A: "Sure!"

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We return to the world of high speed internet tomorrow, so stay tuned for a vacation round up in the near future....

Double Gah

This is my 500th post. I was planning on throwing myself a little blog party, but instead I am bowing to the Gods of childhood illnesses, as that fever of A's I thought was gone? Yeah. Not so much.

So here I am on vacation with a feverish child who exhibits no symptoms other than a fever that seems to randomly come and go according to its own whims and wishes. As I chatted with my new best friend, the on-call nurse at my pediatrician's office, I found myself saying over and over again "Nope, no symptoms. Eating, sleeping, drinking, peeing, pooping, playing, dancing, laughing." And she kept saying "Nothing? No ear tugging? No tummy ache? Nothing?" Yep, nothing except the damn fever.

It took a while to convince my new best friend that I was not in fact driving BACK seven+ hours to visit her, as nice as she was on the phone. She finally understood that I was ON VACATION. WITH FEVERISH, SYMPTOMLESS CHILD. And we decided that I should watch A for another day, or maybe two, and then find a random doctor to check her ears. Or something.

I should just stop planning vacations, or major holidays, or parties, as it never fails that one child or another manages to come down with something. Hey, do you suppose I could use that as an excuse not to attend my cousin's wedding in October? "I'm so sorry, we will not be able to attend. As I guarantee that one of my kids will be ill, so why don't I just save you the money for our dinners and write you a lovely check?" I'm going to have to sleep on that one. It might just be my get out of jail free card.

A housekeeping note: my connection is rather slow up here so I probably won't be around to visit much, but will stop by when I can and catch up in some fashion when I get back.

Vacation Reading

My vacation reading so far has been a re-read of A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend. The first time I read it, it was pre-kids and I was living in the middle of Manhattan. As cars honked around me, I started making mental plans to quit my job and thru-hike the Appalachian Trail. Clearly, I never quite made the finances and logistics work.

This time round, I was similarly inspired to hike the trail, although I recognized that realistically it wasn't happening for the next two decades or so. The thought of convincing two teenagers to devote a summer to a grueling hike with Mom and Dad makes me shiver. Especially since right now C can't walk further than the end of the driveway without whining that his legs hurt. Presumably in fifteen years his endurance will be a bit higher, but still...

Last night as I lay awake though, I started to panic (because, of course, I MUST start planning for something happening in two decades RIGHT NOW, this VERY INSTANT). "I bet my cell phone won't work on the trail. And even if it does, I clearly won't be able to charge it. What happens if my kids need me? What if one of them gets hurt and I am off gallivanting around the Appalachian Trail? What if something happens to my parents? They won't be spring chickens by that point." And on, and on the thoughts flew until I finally fretted myself to sleep.

Upon waking this morning, my first thought was "Man, I have this worrying thing DOWN. Will I ever learn to just let go and stop panicking about every little thing?" And my second thought was "Did these 'what if' thoughts of occur to all those people who hike the trail every year? Or did they just plunge right in assuming that their loved ones would survive for seven months without them in constant contact?" I have to assume that they had these random "what if" thoughts, and felt that the experience of hiking the trail was worth the risk. And I envy them that for as much as I would love to experience the hike, I don't know that I could take the risk.

At last

We finally arrived in Maine late yesterday afternoon. The vacation started out with a bang as I made it here in an all-time (with kids) record, even with the hour-long stop for lunch that included the purchase of a Happy Meal for Julia (which I had to eat as, alas, she is not here) because the toy du jour was a Polly Pocket and "Julia LOVES Polly Pocket Mommy..."

Upon our arrival, we quickly headed to the beach and I discovered that, unlike prior visits when every trip to the beach was a major workout, this year I might actually be able to use that beach chair I insist on shlepping back and forth "just in case" and supervise from a seated position. After a quick dip we had supper, and both children were deposited into bed in the same room. Which meant I actually got to put on pajamas with the lights on instead of tripping over a pack-n-play or blow up bed in the dark. "Ahhh, this is the life" I thought to myself.

Then, of course, today it all fell apart. A has decided that she doesn't want to share with Cousin C, and that the mere sight of Cousin C is reason to cry and clutch all of her belongings and sob "Stay AWAY! MINE!" To which Cousin C nicely responds "Share? Nice? Share?" And I discovered the problem with having both children sleep in the same room is that it makes the sham of a quiet time I still enforce virtually impossible. And the noise they make wakes Cousin C, who sleeps 7 to 7 and takes a 2+ hour nap every day.

But, tomorrow is another day. One that involves sand and water and perhaps even a cup of coffee while sitting in a beach chair. Because I'm all about the beach chair this year.

Copy Cats

C: "Mommy, do copy cats have tails?"

Mommy: "I don't know. What do you think?"

C: "I don't think so. (long pause) Copy cats aren't REALLY cats, are they? They're just people pretending to be cats, right?"

Gah.

A still has a fever. We are not going to Maine tomorrow. C is going to miss the first day of camp. Gah.

Anyway, as I am flipping channels tonight to try and find something to distract myself from my pity party of one, I find MTV's The Real World. I watch for five minutes and think "God, they are so young." And then I think about it, and during the third season, which I was addicted to thanks to Rebecca and MS, Groomzilla's husband, I thought they were so old.

Now I'm really depressed.

Can a out of the technology loop mommy learn new tricks?

So Rebecca and I tried out some IMing (is it called that these days?) to see if it would suffice as our daily form of contact, seeing as international phone-a-thons to England would max out our budgets in no time flat. And I discovered after the fact that transcripts of the chats are kept (Remember that! Nothing goes into cyberspace unrecorded...). So, here, for your amusement, is the transcript of our first IM chat.

I feel old. Very old. How do kids do this and text messaging? Do ya think I will get used to it?

_______________________________________________________

Rebecca: hello? are you there? what the hell is this green dot they're talking about?

me: I dunno. I am finding Google Talk rather confusing myself...

Rebecca: oh. found green dot. duh. still confused, though.

me: Where is it? Oh, wait. There.

Rebecca: can I not enlarge this window? so annoying

me: I can't find a way to enlarge it. Should we keep shopping services?

Rebecca: on the up side, this is every bit as linear as chatting while trying to control screaming children (and I can scroll back up to see what I missed when someone loses it)

me: Not quite as satisfying as a chat on the phone but I am sure I will get used to it.

Rebecca: People seem to love MSN... and is IM a generic term or a specific service? I don't even know. I am feeling quite old right now.

I think it's going to be harder to multitask while IMing...

me: I am feeling very old. IM is through AOL. That's what B and I used to use. I don't remember having issues, but I was younger and hipper.

It will be more difficult to multi task.

Rebecca: how many holes are they playing exactly?

me: Yeah, I'm tied down to the computer and my kids just dumped water all over the floor.

I would guess 10 holes, 9 + the bar...

me: Hey, it told me you were typing

that was cool

Rebecca: yes, I did notice that.

me: I do like the fact it just adds on as I type if you haven't answered.

Like this! Fun

Rebecca: oooh. ok, this could work. try opening another window above this and watch...

I can interrupt you!

Did you see?

Uh.... hello? :)

Ah, hope springs eternal

So a quick A update, she is still fever-ridden, but demanding that we cater to her every whim, so I am not so concerned about her well being tonight. If she can keep me running up and down the stairs for an hour and a half with demands like "I need socks on my hands" and "I think I want to sing Hello Everybody FIVE times now" then she is not all that ill. Although I will probably make the obligatory phone call to the pediatrican's office in the AM so I don't get chewed out for not calling if she still has the fever on Monday.

But the real topic of this post is that today I broke the news to C that his best friend Julia was moving to London. After we looked up London on a map and determined that it was "a lot further than Nana's" he burst into tears. Then suddenly he perked up and smiled. "Mommy! Julia isn't really moving. Because it takes a really long time to find someone to live in your house so you can move. So I'm not sad anymore because by the time someone wants to live in her house, I'll be all grown up." And despite my reassurances that she was indeed moving, whether or not they found someone to live in her house, he was insistent that it wasn't really happening.

Ah, September will be so much fun.

Power Outages According to C

C: "Mommy, we didn't LOSE our power last night, it was just going for a run. It was getting its exercise. Then it came back to cool off in the AC."

Hallucinations

It is clear that I will not be getting much sleep tonight as A seems to be hallucinating. Every ten minutes or so she starts flailing about and crying out. At first she thought C was in her room trying to take her CD player. More recently, she was convinced that Zak and Wheezie from Dragon Tales had taken her lunch box. (Do you see a theme here?) A few minutes ago she started laughing at the silly goats in shoes. I didn't even know that she knew what a goat was. But, apparently they have silly shoes on. Now she is crying out because her pigtails are missing. Which is slightly amusing if you know just how long it takes me to convince her to put them in every morning and then how quickly she takes them out and hides the holders.

My attempts to get fluid into A have been remarkably unsuccessful, so I am guessing we will be headed into the pediatrician's office bright and early tomorrow morning for an exam. And this will now make the fourth year in a row that we have seen the pediatrician within 24 hours of our intended departure for Maine. There seems to be some bad, bad karma going on here. On the up side, I won't have to spend 39 cents to send in C's medical form for school next year.

At least our power is back.

Clearly, I am unprepared

So, to add insult to injury, A's fever is apparently caused by a stomach bug. And right after she vomited, we lost power. Leaving me to scrub up a puke covered bathroom by flashlight. God only knows if I got it all, I guess the stench will tell me in a few hours. Ah, if it were only Wednesday...

Anyway, once I got everyone and everything cleaned up and called M to tell him that he probably wanted to check whether the trains had power before he left the city, I decided to find something for dinner. "Ah HAH." I thought. "I will dig into my stockpile for the apocalypse. This will be a great trial run." After rummaging through the bins in the basement and my cupboards, I was reduced to a dinner of mini-marshmallows and cereal. Apparently my plans for the apocalypse all rely on having a working electrical grid. Clearly, I need to rethink things a bit.

So, here I sit, typing in the dark on my laptop about to run out of juice. Thank God for wireless.

Bookclub Update

So both the suggested books were out until the end of August at my library. Do we want to pick another or wait until September? I put a reserve on them just in case.

Or, since I seem to be terribly disorganized, and Stephanie has her act together, I can direct you to her new bookclub site, and we can band forces with her.

So close, but yet so far

A developed a sudden fever of 103 this afternoon. So, that trip to Maine tomorrow? Yeah. Not happening. At least not tomorrow. I'm trying to find a bright side, but I can't quite see past the clouds.

Grand Ambitions

We leave shortly for the great trek to Nana's in Maine. Have I started packing? Cough, cough, sputter. I have a list...in my head.... Actually, M has graciously agreed to take tomorrow AM off to watch the kids while I pack, so for once I'm not running around like a chicken. But I DO need to get on making those lists...

Anyway, pre-kids vacation planning was all about how many books I thought I could get through. And I always underestimated and ended up having to make a bookstore run. Which was no great sacrifice, trust me. But now, my lists include things like "sippy cups, loveys, DVD's, swim diapers, oh, and how about the new O magazine?" I think on my last two trips to Maine I have gotten through a total of two books. Over two years. And I finished both of them at home once vacation was over. In October I think.

This year, I decided to avoid the bookstore trip and head to the library. Now that I can keep books out for a month at a time, I can actually take library books on vacation without buying them with the late fines. And I figure I can be more ambitious about my reading list because I won't feel guilty about spending the money on the books and then not reading them. So after quiet time today we will be heading to the library to stock up. Which means I need to get online and reserve some books because it's not like I will get to do any browsing with the kids in tow.

I'm still not quite sure when I'll get the reading in, but this year I am much less tired than I was during the last two years, so perhaps I will choose to use my Nana time to read instead of sleep. Or perhaps A and C will start napping again (yeah, right). Regardless, I'm at least going to try to ramp up my reading level again. I'm aiming for finishing a book a week. A gal has to have dreams you know...

So does my blog look funny to anyone else?

I can't see my blog. Can you?

Desperate Times

I was planning on making a taco salad for dinner using the leftover grilled chicken for last night. As I was looking over the recipe I thought to myself "Have to check and make sure I have corn." Which I then neglected to do. And of course, when I went to add to corn into the salad, I had none. So instead of shlepping both kids to the store in this heat I decided to pick the corn kernels out of the bag of mixed vegetables. Yes, you read that correctly. I just spent the last 45 minutes sorting frozen mixed vegetables to avoid the grocery store.

Anyone need some peas or carrots?

Band-Aids

Are we the only household in which Band-Aids are the major form of currency? It seems that we go through Band-Aids faster than goldfish crackers. It doesn't matter if there is blood or not, any boo boo, real or imagined, requires the immediate application of a character laden bandage.

Not every Band-Aid is created equal; depending on the day, Dora, Blue or Sesame are the sticky bandage of choice. Today, Target was out of BOTH Blue and Dora, so we had to venture into new territory, Hello Kitty and Spiderman. Both have been embraced with abandon. Joy of joys. Even more characters that I need to keep in stock.

At the moment, A has a Hello Kitty bandage on her pinky, a Spiderman one on her knee, and two Sesame bandages held in reserve, just in case. C has two Blue's Clues Band-Aids on his shin, although only one of them is the coveted one with Tickity Tock on it. He too is holding some in reserve, apparently they are preparing for the apocalypse in their own way.

I have tried offering up stickers instead of Band-Aids when one is requested, but am always scoffed at. "Silly mommy, I have a BOO BOO. A BOO BOO. I don't need to do art." Silly me indeed. Cause if there is no blood, I am hard pressed to call a small red mark Band-Aid worthy.

The folks over at J and J were brilliant, just brilliant. "Hmm, what is better than mommy's kiss? Hey, I've got it! Stick a cartoon character on a Band-Aid! The kids will go wild!" I should have bought stock in them as a kid. I would be rich by now I tell you. Rich!