Neglect

I've been neglecting my blog as of late (Hi, mom, we made it back from Florida just fine, no worries!). I don't know why it is that I can't quite commit to writing down the posts I have in my head. I think it is probably because I am a fundamentally lazy person. So, for example, on the plane ride back today, I composed several posts in my head, as my laptop was otherwise in use as a portable DVD player. But did I write them up when I got home? No, I did not. I did laundry, and went to Trader Joe's, and watched American Idol. Because I couldn't commit to writing about the problem with princesses or the amazing lack of parenting ability on display at an airport near you.

You should see my Blogger dashboard. Littered with half finished posts. The demise of the nap and the advent of the travel season has wreaked havoc on my ability to focus for more than a minute at a time. Plus, one can't blog and knit at the same time, and I've sort of been on a knitting kick recently. Has anyone invented a really workable audio blogging device? Because I could chat your ear off while I knit...

Anyway, don't mind me and my lack of content. One of these days I'll commit to a blog post of consequence, or not...

Check

Dumb Cat located? Check.

Arrived safely in Florida? Check.

Children well behaved on flight? Check, check.

All bags and belongings accounted for? Check.

Children thrilled to see grandparents? Check.

Grandparents thrilled to see children? Check.

Alligator in the backyard? Check.

Snake on the patio? Check.

Lizard in the bedroom? Check.

There is a reason why I refuse to live in Florida, much to my husband's dismay. I like northern critters and creepy crawly things, thank you very much.

This whine is brought to you by the letters C and D

Why is it that Dumb Cat goes missing EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. we are about to go on vacation? Rebecca can attest, she has spent hours hunting for my cat while I have been off gallivanting around. Except unlike the other trips, which generally take place in the summer, this one is taking place when it is fricking cold outside, and icy and snowy and windy. And I am more concerned than usual. Because Dumb Cat is not a fan of the cold and icy and snow and wind. So that fact that it is 2:30am, and I am up, the lights are on and he is not home? Not good. AND, since Rebecca is, well, living in another country, she will not be around to hunt for the missing feline. Poor Lovely Friend, who I am quite sure is wishing she never met me right now, is going to get stuck with that job. Because for all my blustering, I will be rather upset if something happens to that cat.

And, it is supposed to be cold in Florida. Right up until the day after we leave. Whaaahhhh.

It's a fricking roller coaster

Wheee! The deal is on, no it is off, no it is on but with a contingency, wait! But what about this!

As of right now, it is back on. But don't expect to hear of it again until the keys are officially handed over. Because clearly, I am a major jinx factor in our lives.

Too good to be true

Our lawyer just informed us that we are not out of attorney review. Instead, we are in the midst of watching the deal disintegrate around us. Our real estate agent was perhaps hoping if she spoke the words, they would magically come true. I am familiar with that feeling, heck, every time I offer up a green bean to A, I commit the same offense. But somehow, announcing that green beans are yummy and telling someone they are through attorney review on the piece of real estate that just.won't.sell. seem to be of different magnitudes. Not that I am bitter or anything.

I'm going to crawl into a small hole and hibernate until this is all over. We are officially on school vacation for a week plus, I might just stay in my pajamas until school resumes. Because there is something very, very comforting about living in one's pajamas. In fact, I think I am going to go find them. Right now.

Late Breaking News

We are officially out of attorney review on the old house, and the closing is set for the end of April. I'm just going to dance myself a little jig over here. Don't mind me.

Thanks to all for all the support during the house drama. I would claim that I will now be an upbeat and cheerful blogger, however, I would be lying. But at least I'll have one less thing to whine about, right? And just maybe if I'm not constantly in a semi-panic state, I'll have more time to ponder the wonders of the universe. Like how some people manage to be on time to school every. single. morning. With all members of their household dressed in weather appropriate clothing.

The Diary of a Phone Chain

8:15 pm: Huh, it is actually snowing a little. Yeah! I don't have to clean for playgroup in the morning. I can curl up and work on my knitting instead of mopping the kitchen floor.

10:07 pm: Wait, if there isn't school, how will I know?

10:08 pm: Phone chain! I remember now, there is a phone chain!

10:09 pm: Where is the phone chain?

10:15 pm: Ah, the phone chain. Who do I have to call?

10:16 pm: Who IS that person? Is her child actually in C's class? Where is the class list?

10:18 pm: Ah ha! The class list. Huh. This is the class list from last year.

10:20 pm: Ah ha! The real class list. Why was I looking for this? Right! Who's mom am I calling? Now where did I put the phone chain?

10:21 pm: There is the phone chain...I should really file this stuff somehow...huh. I thought her name was Jane. Man, I hope I haven't called her Jane to her face. Why did I think her name was Jane?

10:22 pm: It doesn't seem to be snowing that much. I bet we will have school. I guess I should go to bed.

10:23 pm: I should bring the phone chain upstairs just in case.

10:25 pm: Where is the upstairs phone? Oh God, in A's room.

10:26 pm: Phew! Phone and phone chain on my bedside table. I didn't even wake A up.

10:28 pm: Damn, I missed the weather. Oh well. Clearly, there will be school. Just look at it outside. Barely any snow.

1:17 am: Have to pee. Is there much snow yet? Nope. I guess I need to dig out the juice boxes for the party in the morning. Gee, I hope I have enough. Gah, I never mopped the floor for playgroup.

5:28 am: "Mommy! I had a nightmare that the Valentine's party was canceled because of the snow!" "Don't worry, look out the window, no snow. Go back to sleep."

5:53am: Is that the phone? Where is the phone? Why is it ringing? Who is calling at this hour? "Hello? Really? But there is no snow! Ice, huh? OK. Bye."

5:53 am "MOMMMMYYYYYY! BUT WHAT ABOUT THE PARTY?????"

5:55 am: Wait, I'm the coordinator? What does that mean? Am I supposed to call everyone under me? It says I have to call everyone under me. But the woman who called me said to just call the next person on the list. Why is this so complicated? It's a freaking preschool phone chain. What happened to waking up and watching the news?

5:57am: "Hi, this is Chichimama from preschool. Yes, I know it is early, but they told me to call. OK, bye."

5:58 am: Crap. I didn't say anything about calling the next person on the list. And the list says I am supposed to call everyone, so I should really call the next person.

5:59 am: Well, I'm not calling anyone else this early. I'll go back to bed an call at a more respectable hour.

6:03 am: I can't sleep. What if I oversleep and someone heads off to school and gets into an accident and it is all my fault? I should get out of bed and start calling.

6:05 am: But is is only 6:05 am. No one on that list is up at this hour. Even my kids are still sleeping.

6:11 am: I am never going to be able to sleep unless I call. I'm just going to call. I was called before 6 am, this is so not my fault.

6:15 am: "Hi, this is Chichimama from preschool. Yes, I know it is early, but they told me to call. OK, bye."

6:16 am: Damn it, I forgot to tell her to call the next person on the list. I'll just keep calling.

6:17 am: "Hi, this is Chichimama from preschool. Yes, I know it is early, but they told me to call. OK, bye."

6:18 am: "Hi, this is Chichimama from preschool. Yes, I know it is early, but they told me to call. OK, bye."

6:19 am: "Hi, this is Chichimama from preschool. Yes, I know it is early, but they told me to call. OK, bye."

6:20 am: I should really mention to someone at school that they could start the phone tree at a more respectable hour. "Hi, this is Chichimama from preschool. Yes, I know it is early, but they told me to call. OK, bye."

6:21 am: Phew. All calls made. NOW I can go to sleep.

6:22 am: "MOMMY! MOMMY! BUT WHAT ABOUT MY PARTY?????"

6:28 am: Next year, I have to remember to put my name at the VERY LAST SLOT on the list.

Underachiever

Nothing makes me feel like an underachiever like reading an email from my alma mater about a graduate who accomplishes something important and meaningful while I am wiping yogurt streaks left by little fingers off of my computer.

I think there should be an alumni award for the most impressive waste of an education. I could be a contender I tell you.

In case you wondered why my drivel has dried up over the last few days

I present to you, the finished bunting.


It's a little reminiscent of an unfortunate bridesmaids dress (which was thankfully never worn), or a certain McDonald's character, but it is done.


Done, done, done (just don't look too closely at how the zipper is sewn in, OK?). I hope Baby C2 wears it at least once. In fact, I hope it fits Baby C2 by the time it makes it to Texas, the child is growing like a weed.


Some (grammatically incorrect) lessons that were learned during this knitting project...

• Much like on a wall in your living room, colors that look good in small swatches take on their own life when knit into a large item of clothing.

• If I ever do a zipper again, I'm buying a sewing machine.

• Picking up stitches is not nearly as difficult as it sounds.

• When sewing something together, double check that you have pinned it together correctly BEFORE sewing around the whole piece.

• Stockinette is a really boring stitch when done for long periods of time.

• When knitting in boring stockinette stitch, never, ever pick a pattern that dictates increases and decreases by row number instead of inches.

My next few projects are hush hush, so don't be looking for any knitting updates over the next few weeks. But once the surprises have been sprung, I'll post pics.

There is something so wrong about this

So I haven't blogged about this, not wanting to jinx anything, but we finally had an offer on the old house. The inspection is this afternoon. I went over this morning to turn the heat up and low and behold, the pipes, they were frozen. Solid. I called Lovely Friend in a panic (and I mean a full-fledged, hysterical "OH MY GOD. I'M GOING TO HAVE A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN RIGHT. NOW" panic. And, because she is so much calmer and, well, saner than I, she came over armed with heat guns and fans and portable heaters, and most importantly, snacks for the kids.

And as I paced around the kitchen querying her on exactly which anti-anxiety medications she might have lying around her house, she went about setting up the heaters and fans and heat guns and, bless her heart, got them unfrozen. I wish I could be that kind of calm person, instead of the kind that runs around with her head cut off in the middle of a crisis. I always thought I handled crisis well, but I have been proven wrong time and time again this year. So if you have a crisis, don't call me. Unless of course you want Lovely Friend's number.

I think I will bring her wine. And perhaps knit her some new mittens. Seriously, how do you thank someone for saving your real estate deal? I somehow think that wine and mittens are not quite enough.

Oh, and the part that is so wrong? It is now almost 10 degrees warmer at the house in which we do not live than it is here. Wrong. Just wrong.

The magic number

Apparently, 70 is the temperature that my house should be at today to keep me warm. And I did in fact set it that high for half and hour or so until the fear of sky-high energy bills scared me into turning it back down to 64. But the half hour was blissful. Unfortunately, I discovered that it should have kept it warmer for a bit longer as the sandwich bread we are in desperate need of for tomorrow has decided not to rise.

I have also discovered that the downstairs powder room is about five degrees warmer than the rest of the house because it is so small, and because for some odd reason the air blasts out of the vent in there more more forcefully than in the rest of the house. So I spent much of the day knitting in the bathroom, and will be rising my bread in there from now on. I know, it is an exciting, exciting life I lead.

Cold

I am cold. I cannot get warm. I am wearing long johns, fleece pants, a turtleneck and a fleece sweatshirt. Wool socks and down slippers. I have even broken my cardinal rule of energy (and money) conservation and turned the heat up to 67. Unheard of in this house. But do I feel any warmer? No, no I do not. Even the cats have spent the day following the sun from one spot to another, and have now buried themselves in the middle of our bed, snuggled under pillows.

The arctic chill without any snow to make it all pretty? Not fun. Not fun at all. I am off to join the cats in their search for warmth under the covers in the bedroom. Come find me if I haven't emerged by spring.

It's a small world

Today, I totally forgot about the birthday party of a classmate of C's until 20 minutes after it had started. Stupidly, I mentioned this oversight to C, and somehow found us racing over to the local gymnastics studio with no socks and jackets on in 20 degree weather in order to make it "in time for the cake!" We screeched into the party, C flung himself into the fray of 25 five year olds playing some bastardized version of statue, and A burst into tears as she realized she was going to spend the next 45 minutes watching her brother and his friends have fun.

All of a sudden, a piece of paper appeared in front of my eyes. I looked up, and there was the knitting pattern I had been begging the internet to help me locate. Before me stood the woman in the funky scarf, who was almost jumping for joy.

"I got home and realized that the pattern was at Berroco, not Bernat!" she exclaimed. "So I printed it out and have been carrying it around in my bag hoping I would see you! And I did!"

It is a small, small world. And now I have a reason to finish that bunting for Baby C2.

Overheard from the disgruntaled

A: (muttering under her breath after a sibling battle over TtFTE) "When I am da mommy, I am going to give you time outs C. Yes I am. Long, long time outs. I can't wait to be da mommy and give you time outs."

Going for the Jugular

As C sat perched on a stool watching me frantically sweep and clean the kitchen before the arrival of our playdate (because of course I decided to procrastinate the cleaning)...

C: "Playdate Friend's mom's house is always nice and clean and white. She is a very good cleaner." He looks around critically, then adds "You're not such a good cleaner."

Five's a Crowd

I woke up this morning with four small bodies crowded around me. Two kids, two cats. No husband. I lay there and wondered, "How did I get here? Where oh where did I go wrong?" Clearly, we should have bought that king sized bed when we replaced the full after C was born. But at the time, the queen seemed so huge, and C was so small! Plus, he would soon be sleeping in his own room, in his own bed. So a queen would serve us just fine. Hah. Yet another fatal error in parental judgment.

While the kids start the night off in their own beds, somewhere around 1 C has started migrating into our bed. He migrates back to his own around 2 or so, just in time for the cats to arrive. At 4, A tries to wake up for the day and generally can be convinced to snuggle in bed with us until 6 or so. But C must have some sort of fairness radar that goes off the minute she climbs into bed, because he arrives shortly after demanding the opportunity to snuggle as well. After a few minutes of two children and two cats squirming around trying to get comfortable and carve out their own space, M generally gives up the ghost and starts his day. I try to eek a few more minutes out of the kids, but the sound of the shower alerts A to the fact that it is time to start our day, and so ends our night.

When talking with my mom a few days ago, I mentioned that my sister, with a toddler and a newborn, seemed to be getting more sleep than I was as Baby C2 already has day and night figured out, and is only getting up once or twice a night to nurse. My mom paused, and then finally commented, "Well, she is not quite as quick to go to them as you are. They have to really mean business before she heads in to them. Not that there is anything wrong with what you do!" And it is true, I have always gone with the "Cut the crying off at the pass" philosophy in hopes that the child would quickly return to a sleeping state.

So last night, I tried not to run up the stairs the instant A woke up. I sat and finished my row, and even debated starting another one. But then she climbed out of bed and stood in the hallway screaming "I want my MOM-MEEEEEE! I want my MOM-MEEEEE NOW!" By the time I made it there, she was lying in the middle of the staircase, about to roll the rest of the way down and crash land on the tile floor below. And then she continued to scream for an hour and half. So much for that experiment.

I really, really wish we had gotten that king sized bed. If you glean any advice from my blog at all, let it be this. If you are in the market for a bed, and you have more than one child, and you are of the "whatever works" style of parenting, do yourself a favor and get the king.

Bullets of Randomness

• I should be working on the bunting for Baby C2. But since I am almost done with it, I have instead spent most of the day pondering my next project. This is why I find it hard to actually FINISH a project.

• My hands are so dry and cracked I look like I am well over 100 if you look at my hands. Really. I need to get better at moisturizing.

• It is supposed to snow tonight. Which would generally be fabulous, but M isn't going to be home tonight and there are two houses to be shoveled out. Sigh. Double sigh. At least I won't have to worry about not getting to the gym.

• The Jello Pudding 100 Calorie Devil's Food Cake thingy's are perhaps the best invention ever. Although if you eat three of them in a day, I suppose the 100 calorie thing is not so relevant.

• We are supposed to have a playdate tomorrow with a child who was exposed to strep on Tuesday. Is it bad of me to hope that it snows enough that we won't be able to have the playdate? Because if he was exposed on Tuesday, he is ripe to be coming down with it on Saturday, and will be nice an contagious tomorrow. But what was I supposed to say, "Oh, no, we won't play with you because you MIGHT be getting sick?" I would have been much happier if she had just not told me at all. There is indeed such a thing as too much information.

• I guess I need to clean if there is a playdate coming over. But do I clean now? Or wait until the last minute because it might be canceled? Decisions, decisions.

• Despite the playdate and cleaning thing, I think I am still hoping for a lack of snow. Because all that shoveling, shiver. So I am off to ignore that weather alert blinking at me at the top of my browser. Weather alert? What weather alert?
  

Help This Knitter Please!

Yesterday I actually chased a woman down on the street to find out where she got the pattern for the scarf she was wearing. I swear, it was the coolest scarf ever. It had cording woven in and out of the sides, allowing you to scrunch it up and adjust the length as needed. And the pattern on the scarf itself was beautiful. I just had to have it.

After getting over the shock of being virtually attacked while sipping her coffee and waiting for the light to change at a crosswalk, the woman very nicely told me that the pattern was available on the Bernat website for free. I raced home to look only to discover that it was not in fact there.

I have considered laying in wait at Starbucks for hours on end everyday in hopes that she returns and I can beg a copy of the pattern off of her, and I have considered trying to recreate it myself. But then I thought I would throw it open to all of you and see if anyone has any similar patterns.

So please, for the sake of the poor woman who just wanted to enjoy a cup of coffee in her nice warm scarf, help this knitter out!

Overheard in front of the TV

M: "I think we need a bigger TV. I can't read Tivo."

Chichimama: "I can see the TV. Have you considered the eye doctor? You ARE at the age that people need bifocals."

M: "I think we need a bigger TV."

Explain this to me

Why is it that I have made five cups of tea today and I have not sipped a single one of them nice and piping hot? Two of them had to be tossed because they had steeped for too long and were bitter. Another two got sipped at lukewarm, but quickly forgotten and scattered around the house (one of them still in an undisclosed location). The last? I have it here, reheated in the microwave, but not nearly as satisfying as a cup freshly brewed. And now, it is cold. Yet again.

I think the Today Show should do a piece on Mommies who Drink Cold Tea. Because I am trying to find "a healthy way to relieve stress," but clearly the hot tea thing is not the way to go. In fact, I volunteer to be their mommy blogger. But I want to go on with Dr. Phil.

So where is the line?

Apparently I missed the mommy moment of the week on the Today Show last Friday, as it was cold and the kids didn't feel like getting out of their pajamas and so I skipped my bi-monthly trip to the gym yet again. But, never fear! I was soon brought up to speed by several friends and many, many blogs. Apparently, the whole "mommies who drink at playdates" thing is back, and Meredith Viera equated stay at home moms to babysitters. Clearly, I didn't watch the piece as I was putting together 100 piece puzzles and being cheered by my adoring preschooler public instead of plodding along on the treadmill, so take my summary with a grain of salt (or, considered it stirred, if you prefer your martini that way). But I have to assume that having heard the same story from multiple sources, it has to be at least somewhat accurate.

I must admit, I've always been a bit hesitant to have a cocktail when it has been offered up at a playdate. And I cringe at the rumors that flasks of margaritas get passed around the stands at weekend baseball games. But I've always been known as a bit of a stick in the mud, and just because I generally choose not to imbibe on a playdate doesn't mean that I judge those who do. Hell, if I did that I wouldn't have any friends. Seriously. I just generally choose to feed my Diet Coke addiction instead, and save my glass (or two) of wine for after the kids are in bed and I can actually sit down and relax. Because no matter how many glasses of wine I have, pushing swings and chasing kids around someone else's house is never going to be relaxing.

However! There is always a however! Let's assume for a moment that drinking while playdating is bad. Fine. But then where does the line get drawn? How about after the kids are in bed? Can a mommy have a drink then? Or how about at an evening party (say, a wedding or New Year's Eve) when there are children in attendance? How about with dinner? Are moms allowed to have a glass of wine with dinner?

And where, dare I ask, are the men in this equation? I don't see any segments on the Today Show about men who have a beer while watching a football game with their kids. Or a dad who has a drink while grilling up some food at the BBQ. Why is it socially acceptable for a man to have a drink but not a woman?

What do you think? Have you had a drink since your child was born? Did you, gasp, do it while they were awake? Or did you arrange for a babysitter to come and watch the children while you had your glass of wine?

Menu Week of 1/27

Saturday - Stir-Fried Vegetable Moo Shu Wraps

Sunday - Baked Ziti (you can ooh and ahh now!)

Monday- Barley, Black Bean and Corn Burritos (these never actually got made last week due to a scheduling error...)

Tuesday - Cornmeal Crusted Tilapia

Wednesday - Random Meal out of the Freezer Day (otherwise known as "too lazy to walk out to the garage and check what is in the deep freeze right now" day)

Thursday - Enchilada Casserole

Friday - Leftovers

Khutspe

I never discovered what Dumb Cat was after the other night. Eventually he gave up his prowl and began whining for more food, and that was that. But as M and I were watching Sea Biscuit last night (we're only a few years behind in movies), we heard a scratching at the now sealed cat door. "Dumb Cat" we said as we rolled out eyes, and then noticed that Dumb Cat was accounted for on the chair. M headed over to the cat door mumbling "It isn't the NEIGHBOR cat, is it?"

But, indeed, it was. There the cat sat, scratching at the door asking to come in to a house that was not his. M wanted to open the door so he could pet the cat (who's the softy here, huh?) while asking if the cat was nice. "How would I know? I've been mean to it. I don't want another cat thank you very little," I replied. Then M started wondering if it had a home. "Maybe it's a stray?" "That cat is too fat to be a stray," I insisted. Eventually, I went to the door and gave it "Mommy Angry Face" and it took off.

But this morning when I woke up, it was sitting on our porch furniture. You don't REALLY think this is a stray cat, do you? I mean, it is FAT. Not quite as fat as Lazy Cat, but much fatter than I would expect from a stray....

I am NOT getting involved with this cat. I am just not.

Vindicated

Apparently, I am not the only one who set her sponge on fire. I feel so relieved.

A flick and a growl

Dumb Cat is currently growling and flicking his tail in a very focused manner in the middle of the family room. Clearly he is hunting something. I am just very unclear what it is that he is hunting. And it makes me a bit nervous. After the mouse incident, and then the visiting cat hubbub, can you blame me? Now Lazy Cat is in on the action, but I am unclear on whether that is because she is curious as to what Dumb Cat sees, or whether I am missing the giant rabbit in the room somehow.

Sorry Ducks

In a fit of desperation today, the kids and I headed to the playground. Yes, it was 38 degrees. No, I could not find a matching set of hat and mittens for anyone. Yes, my God, it was cold. Yes, we were the only people running circles around the jungle gym and swinging the tire swing as far and wide as it could swing. And yes, every. single. person. I know in town drove by, rolled down their windows and laughed. A lot.

Anyway, at one point, when I could not possibly push the tire swing one more time, I suggested that we take a short hike to the pond to see if there were any ducks. Was I expecting ducks? Not really, it was 38 degrees and mid-January. Any self respecting ducks should be sunning themselves in South Carolina or wherever they head for the winter. But yet, as we plopped down on a bench and cringed at the cold on our tushies, they appeared. First two ducks, then four, then a loud-mouth gossip announced the arrival of small children, and the flood gates opened. All around us were ducks, hungry, hungry ducks. Ducks used to the constant summer fodder of bread and bagels and leftover picnic lunches.

The kids were enthralled. There were ducks on the land, ducks in the pond, ducks overhead. "Look at all the ducks! Look! Look!" They thought the ducks were all there to say hi. "Hi ducks! Hi!" All I saw were hungry faces, begging for a meal, ducks who in the summer heyday would head as far away from wee ones as they could as their tummies were full and the risk of a stick landing on their heads was high. But in the winter, a human face brought hope. And as we slowly got up and followed the siren's song of the tire swings, the ducks one by one headed back to their hiding places, calling the soulful cry of the hungry.

Can you tell that I'm a bit snarky tonight?

What is the Republican obsession with red dresses? I'm just saying.

How does he plan to balance the budget without raising taxes? Is he cutting defense spending? That would be lovely.

Really, John McCain shouldn't wink. He looks a little scary in a "lecherous uncle" type of way when he winks.

Don't even get me started on the No Child Left Behind Act. Just don't. I will personally write letter upon letter against its reauthorization.

He can't say tax deduction. It took me a good five seconds to figure out what he was talking about. Or maybe it was the accent. Or perhaps is was the disconnect between the link between tax deductions and health insurance.

I have an itchy pimple on my face. Do you think I should put some money aside in my health savings plan for that?

I'm sorry, I missed the link between health insurance and immigration. Holy lack of transition Batman.

Yeah, doubling the border patrol will do wonders for building that human chain across Texas. But yet, we are a big melting pot of love...

Wait, now we are on energy. There is not a transitional sentence in this whole speech. I should have been a speech writer.

Clean coal? Nuclear power? Yeah. And it is not VeHIC-cule. It's just not. But I am all for improving fuel economy standards.

Nancy Pelosi is licking her lips quite a bit. I think she might even be biting her tongue.

Whoops, on to the judicial system now.

And, on to homeland security. I think I have whiplash.

Cheney needs to work on his posture. Maybe it is all that time huddled in an undisclosed location.

Still on homeland security. And Iraq. I'm tuning out a bit here, forgive me.

I think McCain is falling asleep. There seem to be a lot of sleepy faces in the audience. Or maybe it is just me.

Still on Iraq. I'm not going to comment. See? I can hold my tongue. Really, I can.

People in Iraq do want to live in peace, I am sure. Which is oh so possible with hundreds of thousands of US troops wandering around. Sorry, I was supposed to be holding my tongue.

How many times do you think he is going to invoke the memory of 9/11?

Still on Iraq. Clearly, this is a speech on domestic issues.

Baby Einstein? In the State of the Union? Kudos for all her good work, but really, not very relevant to the running of the country.

Go forth with confidence. The State of the Union is strong.

A Public Service Message

Just in case you read this article, and decided to sanitize your sponge in the microwave? Yeah, about that. Just make sure it doesn't CATCH FIRE, OK? OK. Thanks.

Brought to you by The Nothing Quite Seems To Go the Way That It Should Housewives Network.

Anticipation

Is it wrong of me to be rubbing my hands in glee at the thought of being able to watch the State of the Union tonight? I love picking apart Bush's speeches. I really, really do.

Don't believe everything you hear

At preschool drop off today, C went running into his classroom full of news. "I'm getting a new baby sister!" he exclaimed. Before I could open my mouth, the teachers offered up congratulations, the moms ohhhed and ahhhed over how I didn't LOOK 20 weeks. Finally I was able to stutter out an "Um, no. My SISTER in the Really Big State with Cowboy Hats had a baby girl last night. Not me. Done. Very, very done."

But, by the time I made it across the street to the gym, the news had spread far and wide. I am going to be spending days explaining that really, my tummy is just in need of some sit ups. Sigh.

Welcome to the world Baby C2, even if I am very glad that you are not mine. Your mommy is much better at this parenting thing than I am, trust me. You are much, much better off.

Overheard from the "crowd"

While rehashing the details of the college basketball gamed they watched with M this weekend...

A: "Give me an S! Give me a Y! Give me an....applesause! Give me a spoon! What does that spell?"

C: "SNACK! Go...Oranges!"

Decisions, Decisions

As part of the school registration process for next year I have to select whether my kids will be attending morning or afternoon sessions (yes, we have a half-day kindergarten program). My ideal? Both kids in the morning. Morning school makes sense. We get up, we get dressed, we have breakfast, we make beds and off we go. We come back, it is lunch time and half the day is nicely accounted for. Unfortunately, the drop-off and pick-up times for kindergarten and the preschool in which C is currently enrolled are within five minutes of each other, and there is no busing available. Meaning that either I need to switch preschools, I need to place them both in the afternoons when the pick up times are staggered a bit better, or one child needs to go in the morning and one in the afternoon.

Switching preschools would make the most sense, except for the fact that this preschool is everything I always wanted in a preschool. The children play with sand and water. There is lots of art. They sing appropriate seasonal songs (played on RECORD PLAYERS people), paint rocks, and make a turkey centerpiece for Thanksgiving. There is no formal curriculum. There is no expectation that children will know how to read by the end of the pre-K program. The highlight of the year? A parent-organized Spring Carnival that involves games like blowing ducks across a wading pool using straws and playing hopscotch. Really.

I just. can't. leave this school. I just can't. So the next logical solution? Put both kids in the afternoon. I would get three afternoons a week to do whatever. Go to the gym. Take a nap. Gasp, read a book. But....C is not a great morning person. Oh, he is up bright and early, but trying to get him out of pajamas and into the car? Painful. Very, very painful. And I fear that our combined laziness would mean that if we had no place to go until 12:30, that we would be racing around at 12:25 trying to get dressed. Which is fine for next year, but would make the 8:25 am start in 1st grade a living hell. In fact, I am somewhat fearful that we might never recover from a year of afternoon school.

My final option is putting C in morning kindergarten, and A in afternoon preschool. Which, while fine and lovely for them, leaves not a second in any day that belongs to me. AND puts me in the car four freaking times a day. Because C will not be attending our neighborhood school that is two blocks away. No, he will most likely be attending kindergarten on the other side of town because of a nightmare of a redistricting situation.

So what do I do folks? What do I do?

Overheard in front of the TV

While watching an ice skating routine on TV this afternoon:

A: "Wow, she's beeutiful."

C: "No, I am pretty sure she is cold. Who ice skates in a sun dress?"

Menu - Week of 1/20

Well, since I'm not going to be living it up in New York this weekend, I might as well cook.

Saturday - Maple Mustard Pork Tenderloin with Roasted Apples, side of green beans.

Sunday - Clay Pot Chicken and Vegetables Pot Roast

Monday - Twice Baked Sweet Potatoes with Tofu and Kale

Tuesday - Leftovers

Wednesday - Chichimama's Ultimate Chili

Thursday - Leftovers

Friday - Barley, Black Bean and Corn Burritos

Croup is a four letter word

I had big plans this weekend. BIG PLANS I tell you. M was taking the kids to see his sister and I was headed into the city to spend the night with friends, check out a new wine bar, eat some yummy food, and wake up in the morning for a lovely brunch. I was going to be kid-free for a full 36 hours or so, and it was going to be fabulous. But, like all good plans, this one too came to a screeching halt at 5:30 am this morning when C woke up coughing, that oh so distinctive "barking seal" cough. Croup is not. my. friend.

On the up side, he is old enough that he just sounds like hell, but in reality he could still breathe fairly well. And that is a good thing because our hot water heater is so old that I couldn't actually generate any steam in our bathroom.

Sigh. And do you know who I actually feel worse for? C, and not because he is sick. He was so looking forward to going to see his cousin. When I broke the news that he wasn't able to go, he looked like his heart was going to break. Poor thing.

I is for iPod

Yesterday was visitation day at C's preschool. All the mommies (no daddies this year) came and sat behind their child for an hour and got to "see first hand" what a day in the classroom was like. Never mind the fact that 99% of the kids were attached to their parents' sides like flies to glue traps (except of course C, who insisted that he sits on the letter K and as the letter K was against the wall there wasn't room for me so I should just stand by the door).

The class is working on the letter "i" and each child was asked to come up with a word that began with "i." "I" is for ice cream was a popular answer, as was "i is for iron. Apparently there are mommies in the US who iron too, Rebecca. One girl, whose parent was not in attendance, jumped up and down and screamed "i is for iPod!" The teacher applauded her, and then asked if her mom or dad had an iPod. "Oh, yes, but mine is PINK!" she replied. "Theirs is just boring white." A four year old. With her own iPod. I sure hope they got accident protection insurance with that.

The first snow

We woke up this morning to what could be called a dusting of snow, if one wanted to be generous. Just enough that a snow brush, if I had one in the car, might be useful. But I don't, and I have no idea where it lives, and M is out of town so the kids and I will just sweep our mittens across the windows and call it a day.

A's face is currently pressed up against the windows and she is gazing out at the snow in the backyard, very insistent that there is enough there to make a snow man. I have tried to dissuade her from that idea, but I have a feeling that the instant C is up and coherent we will be pulling on snow pants and boots. She probably doesn't remember the snow very well from last year, although she might. You never quite know with A. But right now, it seems magical and wonderful to her.

I'm generally very pro-snow. I love to look out at the yard, the trees and bushes have such a regal yet gentle look when laden with white fluff. But this year I find myself hoping that it doesn't snow, as if it does we have a real snow removal issue as we will have to shovel out two houses.

At the old house, we had three walkways, a circular drive and a long shared drive back to the detached garage that all had to be shoveled, by hand, because it was gravel. Here there is only one short walkway and a much shorter drive to deal with when it snows. As an added bonus, there are teenage boys on either side of us and across the street, so there is some hope that one of them might be dispatched to our place to shovel if we ever get more than a dusting, especially if M is out of town, which he always is when it snows. So once the other house is someone else's problem, it can snow all it wants.

At the old house I could sit on the sun porch sipping my coffee and imagine that we were alone with the snow. The new yard is not quite as peaceful looking as the old one, however, as we can see the houses behind us clearly and the deck ruins the view in some respects. I am also fairly confident that our new neighborhood is going to be gregarious on snow days, which, while fun for the kids, means that I will spend snow days traipsing around instead of enjoying the enforced solitude.

Overheard from C

C appears in the kitchen without a get out of bed free pass...

Chichimama: "C, back to bed, you used...."

C: "Shhh, shhh. My tummy is full but my mind is empty."

Chichimama bursts out laughing and can't stop. C is finally dispatched back to bed. Chichimama continues to laugh. Is still laughing. Will be laughing for days.

Are my kids the only ones...

who don't actually play with their toys? I mean, we'll get ten minutes here, ten minutes there, mainly with the legos and blocks, and then the rest of the time? They either run around laughing and screaming or they do things like stand at the kitchen sink for over AN HOUR using turkey basters to transfer water from one mixing bowl to another and back again.

Distraction

Weffriddles. I am addicted. I might have to block it like Phantom. But boy has it done a great job of distracting me from my pity party. So don't get worried (Nana) if I don't post for a while, I'm just following a puzzle trail...

The bottom step

Our real estate agent held yet another open house at the old place this afternoon, and as far as I could tell from my bordering on stalker-like drive bys, there were lots of people traipsing in and out of it, but no one who looked at all interested. After it was all over I swung by to make sure the heat had been turned down (it hadn't) and turn off the water in anticipation of the cold snap arriving later this week.

It was dusk, bordering on dark when I arrived, necessitating the turning on of lights around the house. I flipped on the switch to the upstairs hallway and burst into tears. I just sat on the bottom step, as I used to every evening as I talked to my sister or Rebecca on the phone and cried. Tears of hopelessness, tears of sadness, tears of homesickness. Even without the furniture, the giggles, and the drone of sibling bickering, in the dusk, with the lights on, the stairs felt like home.

I really didn't think I would miss the old house, and in day to day life, I don't really. Not the house itself anyway. But I miss life the way it was before we moved. Life with only one mortgage, life when my best friend didn't live an ocean away. Life when M and I didn't snap at each other at the drop of the hat, life when I could sit on the hard wood of the bottom step and just enjoy my home.

A big shout out to Al Roker

Last week during one of my not so frequent trips to the gym (positive thought: I DID make it to the gym!), I caught the tail end of the Today Show. Al Roker was doing a sleep segment with some expert, I can't remember which one (Jodi Mindell maybe?) that was aimed specifically at the older child. Apparently, Al has a toddler who sleeps almost as poorly as my two, and all of his questions mirrored what mine would have been had I pursued that career in broadcast journalism instead of ditching out on the first day of freshman year when the director of the program announced that 75% of the people sitting the the room would never ever see the inside of a television studio.

We have already implemented two of the suggestions, the "Get Out of Bed Free Card" and the "Good Morning Light." The "Get Out of Bed Free Card" is a brilliant, brilliant idea (so far) for the "pop out of bed 25 times in 15 minutes" variety of child, which C has turned into. Before bed we make sure that he has peed, has water, has all necessary stuffed animals, and then any additional request requires the surrendering of the "Get Out of Bed Free" card, and then there are no more nighttime visitations unless he needs to pee, poop or has "an honest to goodness" nightmare. The first night I had to impose a few extra rules, like a second book does NOT get read at 11pm, even if the magic card is presented, but other than that we have not seen C more than once after he has been tucked in for the night. The card has worked less brilliantly with A, who is still a little young to work through the process yet. She surrenders the card, then wants it back so she can surrender it again.

The second brilliant suggestion was the "Good Morning Light," to solve the issue of the early morning riser. Apparently, in the Roker household there is a child who wakes up at 4:30am, which made me feel so much better about our 5:30 wakeup. The "Good Morning Light" is a night light selected by the child and plugged into a lamp timer. The timer is set to turn the night light on at a reasonable hour, and the child is instructed that if the light isn't on when they wake up, they should try to roll over and go back to sleep. If the wake up hour is, say, 5:30 and you would really like the child to learn to wake up at 7, you are supposed to gradually adjust the time that the light goes on by 15 minutes ever few nights.

I have to say, I ignored that piece of advice and went straight for the 7am setting. And you know what time we were up this morning? 7:20. A was up a few times before then and heard muttering "Uh oh, no light. Nighty night A," but she did not set foot in our room until the light was on. I'm not going to guarantee that this will be a long term solution for us, as it seems nothing ever is with her, but I am more hopeful than I have been with other techniques.

The other piece of advice that I wish I had heard two years ago when we forced A gave up her nap way too early because it made it too hard for her to go to sleep in the evening, was to still let the child nap in the afternoon and then at night allow her to lie in bed for half an hour or 45 minutes with the lights on looking at books. If she gets out of bed, the light goes off until the next night. I think it might have saved us hours of agony.

So anyway, there you have it. Wish us luck. And send good sleeping vibes in the direction of the Roker household as well. Because no one should be waking up at 4:30 in the morning with a toddler. Even if they have to be at work at 6am.

Guilt

Just to get it out of the way, my happy thought for the day is that my house is (almost) clean. Let's just ignore the fact that I was up until almost midnight last night scrubbing toilets and rinsing showers, OK? Focus on the positive, clean potties and showers.

Last night I was not a very good wife. M was in the city for what I thought was a business meeting. And I guess there was a meeting involved, at five, and then he met up with friends of ours for dinner and drinks. But I didn't know about that part until 10:15 or so when he called to see how the kids were doing. I had just crawled into bed after spending the day dealing with two over-tired, whining children, A was already showing signs of having a not very good night of sleep, and the cats were loudly expressing their displeasure over the closing of the cat door. Basically, I was not in grand mood.

So when I heard that he was out having spur of the moment fun instead of doing business deals like I thought he was, I burst into tears and whined "So nice that SOMEONE gets to have fun in this family." Then I felt guilty because really, it wasn't his fault that the kids were trying and the house was a wreak, and that I had done (literally) eight loads of laundry that still needed to be folded, and that I was PMSing and hungry and my favorite show hadn't recorded. But once the tears are out there, you really can't recover from that as hard as you try to insist that really, everything is fine and to go and have a good time.

Once he had assessed that I wasn't going to throw myself from the second floor window or ship the kids off to the circus, I was instructed to go to bed and he went on with his evening. But the guilt kicked in and I decided to scrub the house instead. Because, well, I don't know why, besides the fact that I was already feeling guilty about the fact that I am a horrid housewife, and while I couldn't do anything to fix my guilt trip of an outburst, I could at least get the house clean.

Of course we all know that with two kids and no school today, there will be no sign that the house was actually clean at midnight last night, but I swear, it was. If you sniff really deeply in the upstairs bath you can still smell the shower cleaner.

The trauma

In the space of one day I had to register C for kindergarten and A for preschool. There should be a law about overlapping enrollment days somewhere. I am rather traumatized by the whole thing.

Blogkeeping

Thanks to the geniuses at Haloscan, I was finally able to get my comments installed properly on an upgraded template. So don't mind me while I play around with the layout for a few days...

So many things get revealed in t he middle of the night

One of the major perks of our new house is the cat door that is built into the sun porch. For the past few months, I have not had to let a cat in or out of the door, there have been no flying objects launching themselves against the windows, no loud bangs on the doors, no howls in the middle of the night when someone hasn't realized that bedtime had arrived for the human residents of the household. So when I was awoken by cat noises in the middle of the night, I was a bit confused for a few minutes.

I finally decided that the cats were bickering about the cozy spot on top of the heating vent downstairs and got up to investigate, only to realize that one of the cats was snoring away at the foot of the bed. More confusion clouded my already foggy brain. If Lazy Cat was asleep on the bed, what on EARTH was Dumb Cat DOING? Finally it clicked in, clearly another cat had found the entrance to our home through the miraculous cat door. As I raced downstairs, I did indeed hear the telltale thwank of the cat door swinging after someone had gone through it. And I found Dumb Cat pacing back and forth, staring at the swinging cat door.

I headed back upstairs and explained what had happened to M. "Well, you closed the cat door, right?" he asked. "Really? You think I have to do that?" I replied sadly. Silence. "Right. OK." So, with a heavy heart, I closed the cat door. I was so nice while it lasted. On the upside, I now know why the cats have been peeing around the house, and why we have been going through outrageous quantities of cat food. On the downside, I was interrupted five times while tying this to let a cat in or out.

Once we sell the other house, we are SO getting one of these....

Menu - Week of 1/7

Back to menu planning. I've discovered that without a menu I spend way too much at the grocery store and still have nothing to show for it. This week is courtesy of my pantry and deep freeze as I'm trying to clean out some of the stuff I bought thinking it "might be useful someday," as well as use up some of the stuff I froze to prepare for a cold, snowy winter. At the rate the temps are rising, I'm not going to feel much like stews and chilis much longer!

Sunday - Three Sisters Stew (From Moosewood Low-Fat, fabulous if you have never tried it)

Monday - Stuffed Baked Potatoes

Tuesday - Smoked Sausage Cassoulet

Wednesday - Roasted Vegetable Lasagna

Thursday - Ham and Squash Casserole

Friday - Zesty Flounder

Saturday - Moroccan Chicken

This should suprise no one

The Subtle Neurotic
You scored 88 anxiety, 95 awkwardness, and 47 neuroticism!

You have all the makings of neuroticism without any of the amusing trappings--you are The Subtle Neurotic! Plagued by doubt, fears, and worries, you are much more likely to have a quiet existential crisis off on your own than to bite your fingernails. You worry a lot over social situations, but take heart--chances are, you're not nearly as awkward as you feel you are. The best advice I can give you? Confide your worries in someone--no matter how irrational they seem. You're far too likely to keep everything bottled up.

Your high anxiety score implies that you are unable to relax, worry about the future often, and probably are plagued by irrational fears and self-doubt.

Your high awkwardness score implies that you are socially nervous, probably have difficulty with conversation, and perhaps feel uncomfortable in large groups of people, such as at parties.

Your low neuroticism score implies that you don't exhibit subtle neurotic behaviors--your nails are probably an acceptable length, your pencils aren't covered with bite marks, and your bookcase isn't arranged alphabetically by genre. Congrats!

The Neurotic Test, as seen at Mimilou

Overheard from the hubby

M: "I find this [70+ degree] weather so depressing. But what galls me about it the most is that it is making Gore look good."

Remind me of this

Someplace in my house, a cat has peed. Not in the litter box. I cannot find where. I have spent hours on my hands and knees sniffing every inch of carpet and upholstery. I cannot find the source(s). Remind me of this when I start talking about getting a cute little kitten someday.

I don't have a happy thought right now. There is nothing happy about a house that smells like cat pee.

Survival

We made it through our strep induced days at home, and (hopefully, as he is still asleep right now) C will be returning to school today. Hurray for school! In actuality, yesterday wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I did about a dozen loads of laundry (Really! Everyone's sheets, plus three grandparents-worth of sheets and towels, plus all of C's special friends=lots and lots of laundry). We did every puzzle in the house, set up an elaborate train track, used up about a ream of paper, and built a solar system mobile (from the back of a coloring book, don't start thinking I was getting crafty or anything).

When the kids started melting at about 1:30, we went outside, without jackets because it was that warm, and swept and washed down the front walk and steps. We chatted with the next door neighbor for a bit, and then A discovered some chalk and drew all over the freshly washed walk. But it was all good. Except for the fact that the trees are starting to bud, in fricking January. Not. Good.

The day ended with copious quantities of PBS kids, as by 4pm I was fresh out of ideas, C and A were starting to wrestle, and I am desperately trying to keep A from getting strep. Because we could survive three days at home, but I'm not sure how we would do with another three. Especially since M's travel and conference schedule has picked up again and he'll be jetting around to all the warm, sunny spots until June or so. Gah. Why are academic conferences never anyplace like Vegas or West Palm Beach? Or was I just in the wrong field?

A and I are going to celebrate C's return to school with a trip to Trader Joe's. Because nothing says "I survived winter break plus an additional two days" like a trip to the grocery store with only one child in tow. Those of you with only one, or none, think I am kidding, but it is true. Shopping with both children is an exercise in futility.

Oh, and my happy thought for the day? Rebecca got a wonderful present for the holidays, a US phone number through the Internets that allows me to call her at no cost to me (or her) as much as I want (time-zones permitting). Which makes the whole mommy-gut check "should I take my kid to the pediatrician" questions so much easier. Although she still can't help much with the "what kind of jacket are you putting on the kids today" type of questions. Now if only they could invent a way for her to send me eggs and box of soy milk when I run out....

New Years Resolution

I am going to try and whine less.

Phaw. Who am I kidding. I whine. That's what I do. Let me try this again.

OK, I am going to try and balance out my whines with happy thoughts.

Happy thoughts. I can do this. Really I can.

My happy thought for the day, (not that I am trying to jinx myself or anything) A has been in underpants for three days without an accident. With very little reminding on my part.

Not just a fever

Yes, indeed, C has his first case of strep. Now that he has seen the doctor and been given medicine, my used to be somewhat cheerful son has now thrown himself on the couch, declared himself "very sick" and has commenced the whining that he feels a doctor's visit worthy illness requires. Sigh.

I am now off to perform the obligatory "So glad you came to my party, hope you had a great time, oh, and as a door prize, you won some strep germs" phone calls. At least we made it to Target before the diagnosis for tissues and Diet Coke.

Questions and more questions

Today is supposedly the first day back to school for C. But I am still in my pajamas, and so are the kids, and it is not because preschool is closed for the national day of mourning. No, C's fever came back yesterday morning, and he literally spent the day in bed. Sigh.

Besides the "what REALLY constitutes a fever" thing, this raises an interesting dilemma, the mommy disclosure. Do I call every parent at the party and inform them that my son has a random fever and no other symptoms? I mean, if he had something requiring antibiotics, sure, I would call. But random viral something or other? Not so sure. And the whole "fever free for 24 hours" thing, is a fever of 99.5 at 7am REALLY a fever worthy of keeping him home again tomorrow, assuming it doesn't get any higher by tonight? And can I take him out in the world, say to the yarn store to replace the non-washable baby yarn? Or to Target to get tissues for the sinus impaired in the house? Inquiring minds want to know these things.

Bullets of of the New Year

• I was pleasantly surprised to discover that even though we ended up with 12 adults and 11 kids, our house could have held a lot more easily. Although did anyone congregate in the actual living room? Of course not. Well, except for the kids who were using the chairs for an elaborate game of "hide your head and put your tushie in the air and call it hide and seek."

• I have to remember that people actually arrive well after the start time on the invitations. By the time anyone showed up, the baked brie was cold. And not very tasty.
  

• I made way, way too much food. Some baked beans, sweet potato mashed potatoes, or ham anyone?
  

• Children don't actually eat real food at large parties, unless you count popcorn, pretzels, and cupcakes as "real food," which you might...

• Apparently, this group of people like beer, seltzer, and chocolate milk. May I offer anyone a bottle or two of wine to go with their baked beans and ham? Or some soda? How about a sparkling cranberry juice? A Clifford juice box?
  

• My children lasted an hour and fifteen minutes past their bedtimes, and then basically put themselves to sleep upstairs, even though all of their friends were still downstairs playing "hide your head and put your tushie in the air and call it hide and seek."

• When eleven children are in the same house, they don't actually play with toys. They run around screaming with glee. Or they play picnic under the dining room table. And apparently, I am a "cool mom" because I didn't see anything wrong with a picnic under the dining room table. Hey, if I could have fit I would have, it looked like fun.
  

• I must remember to invite at least one obsessive compulsive cleaner to every party I throw. Thanks to M and Friend who Might be Moving to London Too, my house looked like this by ten fifteen.

She started cleaning up "just a little" while I was seeing people out.

• Although M and I made it to midnight (barely) we missed the ball drop because we were too engrossed in Grey's Anatomy, season one, episode 7.
  

Hope everyone had a happy and safe New Years Eve.

The aftermath

Everyone is (almost) healthy again, except for a few raging sinus issues amongst the grownups, which may or may not warrant antibiotics, but who has time to see a doctor....It's been rather chaotic around here, with all three sets of grandparents around for portions of the past few weeks. It has been wonderful, don't get me wrong, but the kids are so hyped up by now that you look at them wrong and they fall to the floor a sobbing mess. Tuesday can't come soon enough for everyone, I am quite sure.

My dad heads home this morning, and then it is the mad scramble to get ready for the New Years party. What, oh what was I thinking? And since the kids have been totally off their already virtually non-existent to begin with sleep schedules, I can only imagine how they will handle being up two plus hours past their bedtimes tonight. Or, rather, I wonder what kind of wrecks they will be tomorrow. I think I should stock up on videos now...

Other than mass chaos, things are find here. I've finished the last of the Christmas scarves, and have moved onto the baby gifts needed in the next few months. I'm a huge fan of knitting baby gifts I've decided, because they go so quickly. I also have a new favorite yarn (bought on sale at Webs), Jaeger Roma, for those of you who knit. Although when linking to it I just realized that it is a hand wash only yarn, which is an issue in the baby gift department. Gah. What to do, what to do. I swear when I bought it it was machine wash. Sigh.

Anyway, I probably won't surface again until Monday or Tuesday, but I am working on the New Years resolutions, I promise. Wishing you and yours a happy New Year, and may you have a Rocking New Years eve.

I always knew I was important....

As seen at Ridiculous Chick's...

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Milady the Right Reverend Chichimama the Recumbent of Old Yarkhillshire Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

It just ain't a holiday without a fever

Yep. At least C managed to get all of the presents open before falling asleep to Curious George with a raging fever and no other symptoms. Why is it that my kids get the fever with nothing else? Is it just me? Do other children get raging fevers with no other symptoms? I mean not even a sniffle!

Today he woke up, came downstairs to say goodbye to Nana and Grandpa S, and then crawled back into bed for three hours. He seems perkier now, but the day is still young...

Christmas Bullets

• The Dora the Explorer Magical Castle? Doesn't come with furniture. Just so you know. Little People furniture works in a pinch, but it is a very, very short term solution at best.
  

• Playmobil takes a very, very long time to put together. The instructions are not well written. And the parts? Very small. Very easily lost. It should really be done the night before.
  

• If you ever need to dress up as, well, anything, come on over. We can outfit several preschool classes as princesses, ballerinas, knights, doctors, kings, spacemen, firemen, flappers, etc, etc etc.

• We have sixteen pair of dress up shoes. And every. single. pair. is different. Who knew there were so many different dress up shoes out there?

• My rolls? They came out very well, if I do say so myself.

• M pulled off the turkey flawlessly. Clearly, the turkey issues are all mine.

• I got two new bread books. And a gift certificate to the local yarn shop. I am a happy, happy woman.

More tomorrow, or perhaps the next day.

Happy Merry Christmas Fun

Wishing you and yours a merry happy Christmas, if you celebrate such things. The tree is up, the presents are almost wrapped, and the holiday gifts are (almost) all made.

Stay tuned, next week I get to see just how miserably I failed at my New Years resolutions this year, and then contemplate some new ones (or just revisit the old...).

The kindness of strangers

As I was strapping the kids into the car this morning, off to deliver the last batches of cookies, C's eyes grew huge. "Mom! Look!" he whispered. "Just look!" I glanced across the street, and there getting out of a big red suburban was Santa. Santa hugged an elf, and told her to hurry up.

C stood transfixed in the driveway, blinking as fast as he could. "Mom! Get A out of the car so she can see Santa too!" She refused to leave my arms but waved a little wave and whispered"Hi Santa, Merry Christmas! Hi Santa, hi Santa." Santa finally noticed the two of them and gave a cheerful wave and a booming "Merry Christmas!" The elf emerged from the house, and the two climbed into the car.

I turned to put the kids back into the car, and the C's eyes got even wider. "Mom! Mom!" He couldn't get anything else out. A gasped. And there, pulling into our driveway, was Santa. He climbed out of the car, patted the kids on the head, chatted with them about how good they had been, and then said he had to get going because he was headed to the hospital to see the kids who were sick. C shook his hand and wished him a Merry Christmas. Santa headed out, and a barrage of questions hit me all at once.

"Where were the reindeer? When did Santa learn to drive? How did he know that we were good? I forgot to ask him if he liked chocolate milk or soy milk!" As we went about our day, C told everyone we saw that we had seen Santa. But do you know how he told the story? He talked about how Santa was going to the hospital to see the sick kids. And how sad it would be to be so sick on Christmas that you had to stay in the hospital. And how he hoped that Santa was bringing the sick kids extra presents, so they might feel special.

The kindness of strangers, indeed.

Holiday baking by the numbers

Number of pounds of butter used: five

Number of pounds of all purpose flour used: 20

Number of cans of non-stick spray depleted: three

Number of cookies baked: 28 dozen (not including the failed batches)

Number of cookie sheets ruined: three

Number of cookies consumed by the chef: at least four dozen

Number of holiday spice breads baked:12

Number of times I wished for a stand mixer: four

Number of times I cursed the spirit of giving: hundreds

Number of goodies left to be delivered: four

Note to self: Holiday breads are MUCH easier than holiday cookies. And this recipe is particularly yummy.

Found

Found: One rusty iron. Seven out of eight Christmas napkins. One black party shoe. A broken red candle. A Christmas gift for my sister bought five years ago. Twelve cookie tins. Several sheets of gift tags.

Still missing: Two rolls of wrapping paper. A bag of silver bows. A silver glitter pen.

Reward: Two cats who have traded their taste for mice in for a taste for cookies.

Missing

Missing: Several dozen cookie tins and two rolls of wrapping paper. A bag of silver bows. Several sheets of gift tags. And a silver glitter pen.

Reward: All the leftover holiday cookies you can eat.

Somehow, my stash of holiday wrapping supplies bought on sale last year got lost in the move. I have looked high and low at both houses, and they cannot be found. And do you know when they will show up? The day after Christmas, right after I repurchase it all on sale.

This is why I hate to move. I knew exactly where all of those items used to live before we moved. Sigh. I really want these cookies out of my kitchen and into other people's homes...

An open letter of apology

To the 20+ patrons of our local post office:

I sincerely apologize for the agony that must have been your visit this afternoon. I thought that 2pm would be the best time to visit the post office with two small children in tow during the holiday season, clearly I was wrong. I know, I know, I should have mailed my packages last week. Or the week before. Or even yesterday when my son was at school. But I didn't. And since you were all standing there too, clearly I was not the only one who had not planned ahead well. But I digress.

I apologize for the never-ending game of 20 questions that had many of you scratching your head looking for the "Round/Square/Green/Blue/High/Low" thing that didn't actually exist. We are still working on the fundamentals of the game, including the fact that that the object actually has to be in view, and that it has to be real, not an item such as "A dragon split in two!"

I apologize for the temper tantrum that you were witness to when my son pushed his sister off of the chair they were sharing and lost his TV privileges for the day as a consequence, but I had been waiting for 30 minutes already, I was next in line, and I just. couldn't. leave at that point.

I would like to extend a special apology to the woman who found herself attacked by a flying purple coat that had been deemed "too hot" and the man who found himself the center of a game of tag. I would also like to apologize to the postal workers who were serenaded through the mail slot to a very off-key rendition of "Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer." And I would also like to thank the aforementioned postal workers for filling in the missing words. It resulted in a good thirty seconds of silence that was appreciated by all.

In closing, I am very very very very very very sorry. But Great-Grammy needed her pictures and calendar before Christmas Day. And Grandpa needed his new book to read during his glorious week off.

I wish you all the very best this holiday season, and solemnly swear to try and tackle the post office by myself next year.

Best,

Chichimama

A Year in Review

As seen at Raising Weg, via APL...a snapshot of 2006 seen through the first sentence of the first post of each month.

You know you are old when you watch Dick Clark New Year's Rocking Eve in bed and fall asleep well before midnight.

Well, after our experiment last night, A did in fact sleep through the night.

I'm currently caught up in Spring Carnival planning hell, so I haven't thought much about how to set up the book club as I've been too busy settling squabbles over whether we should be serving Jello Jigglers or Oreos (neither, IMO, but hey, who am I to dictate snack choices...).

This is one of those mornings that pre-kids I might have been pleased to be up at 4:30 am.

You can say many, many things about my youngest child.

Head over to Unity '08.

On Friday afternoon I took both kids over to the new house thinking M was there building his to do list.

Are we the only household in which Band-Aids are the major form of currency?

I've been waiting for it to happen, and wake up each morning surprised that it hasn't hit.

Well, I stuck to the menu last week, but something went slightly wrong with each meal.

So I've decided to try the NaBloPoMo instead of the NaNoWriMo.

It was not a good night for the worrier last night at Chez J-E.

Apparently, much of my life over the past year has focused on sleep, or rather, the lack of sleep. Here's to hoping next year is a little more restful.

Never easy

Nope, not strep. The pediatrician is stumped, but felt that further allergy testing wasn't worth it right now as we have no idea what to even test for. So we are in a watching and waiting mode, armed with new Epi-Pen prescriptions. Gah.

Now I have to focus on Christmas again. I wonder where that to do list ended up...

And the beat goes on

Still hives. Although last night we were smart enough to dose A with Benadryl BEFORE she woke up covered in hives, so we were not treated to a third night in a row of kids TV at midnight. The fact that PBS Sprout runs 24 hours a day is both useful and scary all at once. As clearly there must be enough children up watching TV at midnight to make it worthwhile...

But I digress. We head into the pediatrician's this morning right after we drop C off for a consult and a strep test, as apparently Cousin C breaks out in hives with strep throat. May it be strep...oh please let it be strep. C has developed "itchies" as well, although his are not apparent to the naked eye, if you know what I mean. And A is convinced that she saw the dentist on Friday night, despite all of our attempts to convince her otherwise. Even C had thrown up his hands in disgust with a "Believe what you want, A. But you DID NOT SEE THE DENTIST!"

So that's about all the news that is fit to print over here. A has some hives as I write, but I am trying not to dose her with Benadryl until after we see the doctor. Why, I don't know, as it isn't like she is going to be able to do anything besides look at them, nod, and say, "Yep, look at that, hives!" but at least I'll have independent verification that she does in fact have hives. But as I told Rebecca yesterday, it just isn't a major holiday without a trip to the pediatrician's. Do you suppose it is tacky to hand deliver her holiday card?

Unknown

Last night, A woke up fussing. I got annoyed as I was in the middle of baking cookies for the teachers and pies for Christmas. She wouldn't settle down, and I finally noticed that she was scratching incessantly at her legs. I put some lotion on, and then suggested we put new pajamas on her. When I took off her clothes, I saw she was covered, I mean covered, in giant hives. Her legs, arms, and hands were swollen. Her sides and her face were covered. She was coughing.

M took her downstairs and put on the TV while I phoned the pediatrician's office. After getting on the list for a call back, I remembered to give her Benadryl. And then we sat and watched the hives grow and change and spread. The nurse-on-call got back to us, and very nicely suggested that I take her to the ER since the Benadryl didn't seem to be taking the hives down. "The cough is a little concerning," she said. And my hand hit my forehead. Duh, coughing=closing of airways. Hives + coughing, not so good.

M put on her green princess pajamas, and off we went. On the way, the Benadryl seemed to kick in, and she started chatting with me. "It is dark! Which doctor are we going to? Oh! Is the hospital decorated for Christmas? Why don't I have a coat on? Is it raining? I was very itchy Mommy. I love you Mommy." When we finally got the hospital, the hives on her face had gone down, but her legs were still covered. We signed in, and we waited. And waited. And waited some more. I called M (from a pay phone! They still exist! And they cost 50 cents now!), A fell asleep. We were finally seen by the triage nurse and fast tracked in the pediatric ER.

But by this point, the Benedryl had been in her for almost three hours, and the hives were gone. The ER doc gave her some steroids, made sure I had an Epi-Pen and knew how to use it. "Did you consider using it?" he asked me. "No, quite honestly I didn't," I replied. "You might have wanted to consider it," he said calmly. "It sounds like the coughing wasn't that bad, but if it had progressed, or the hives had spread to her eyes and lips, in the leg, ten seconds, call 911." I just blinked. "But we don't even know what she is allergic too!" I screamed internally. "She hasn't had a reaction to anything in 15 months! I've stopped worrying about this!" But instead of freaking out at the poor ER doc I thanked him, scooped up the still sleeping A and headed home.

She woke up on the way to the parking lot, and chattered all the way home while I held the tears back. "The hospital was decorated Mommy! With a tree and lights! I was a good girl! Is it still night time? I didn't even see a doctor, am I still sick? My face is sticky. I got medicine? What flavor? Oh, I like grape! No, I think I want to sleep in my own bed. But don't forget to put your jammies on! Did daddy have his dinner yet? Did he like it? I love you Mommy."

I put her into her bed, and M and I just looked at each other in the darkened house. "I don't get it," said M. "How did this happen? How can someone react like this to something and we can't even figure out what it is?" and later "This isn't how it is supposed to happen. This isn't what I envisioned when we had kids. Why?"

As I type, A is still sleeping, hive-free I think. I even managed to sleep, somehow, last night. And Monday, I guess we head back to the allergists to begin what I had really thought we were going to avoid, the long, painstaking process of trying to figure out what she is allergic to. And I have to steel myself for the fact that my daughter is going to be carrying an Epi-Pen for a very long time.

Turkey smirky

All of this knitting and preparing for Christmas so I don't stress out the week before is just stressing me out two weeks before. I'm just saying. But I think I finally have a menu for Christmas, despite an ongoing battle between M and me* over the need for a turkey on major holidays. Thanksgiving, OK. But Christmas? Not so necessary. Especially since in the eight(?) years we have been throwing at least one holiday, we have yet to successfully cook a turkey. I kid you not. It is always raw when we take it out, even despite adding an hour or two onto the cooking time to try and compensate. I have no fricking idea why.

Quite honestly, I don't even LIKE turkey. I also don't like turkey soup, or any of the things that you use turkey left overs for. At least with a ham I could make casseroles and such. Sigh. The things I do for love. So back to original point to this post...ah yes, the menu.

Herb and Garlic Roasted Turkey
Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes
Stuffing
Green Bean Casserole (this holiday is all about M's childhood favorites this year...)
Pumpkin Pie
Apple Pie
Homemade rolls of some kind

Now I have to figure out whether I am going to make something separate for the kids, as neither of them will touch anything on this menu except for the pies, rolls, and maybe the green beans, or whether I throw up my hands and decided that a day of starch and sugar isn't going to kill them.

I'm also debating a roasted root vegetable casserole as my mom and I would both love that, but we aren't really having THAT many people over, so it sort of seems like overkill. Decisions, decisions.

*Is "I" or "me" correct here? I went back and forth for about ten minutes before going with "me" as my gut was telling me.... I know I have some editors out there (cough, cough, Suzanne, cough cough Phantom) who probably cringe at all of my grammar mistakes and typos...so look! I do sometimes proofread and ask for help! Not frequently, but sometimes...

I never said I could sew

So here are my finished holiday projects for my niece and nephew. I have a puppet that is almost finished for my other nephew, I just have to do the hair and embroider the face.

Now I am off to make pumpkin pies and breakfast casserole to throw in the freezer for Christmas day. Just call me June.

Just wrong

A high of 61+ degrees today. That is just wrong. I know those of you in warmer climates are used to this in December, but we had had snow by this point last year. Not much, but some. I'm finding it hard to get into the holiday spirit while running around in a long-sleeve tee shirt and nothing else.

Still working on Christmas, I should have some pictures for you by the end of the day. I'm almost done with the stuff for the nieces and nephews. But I think Grammy is losing out on her holiday scarf. Perhaps for President's Day....

Overheard from above

As I was on my hands and knees cleaning up the mess that existed post-holiday craft time...

Mommy: (muttering under her breath) "I am so sick of cleaning up tiny pieces of paper from the floor."

A: "Mommy, are you OK? Do you need some medicine? What is sick?"

C: "Mommy, did you mean tired sick? A, I think she meant tired sick, not sick sick."

Mommy: "Yes C, I meant tired sick. I'm not really sick A."

C: "Sometimes people use sick when they mean tired, but that's not really the right word. You should say what you mean Mommy."

Mommy: "I'll try to remember that for the future C, thank you. Now will you help me clean up the floor?"

C: "No, I'm allergic, remember?"

I am almost on top of the holidays, and will stop posting cute (and not so cute) kid sayings soon. I swear I do actually have some interesting thoughts to share...

Overheard from the peanut gallery

As I was working on my gazillionth attempt at a batch of cookies for the freaking cookie swap.

C: "Mommy, practice makes perfect, or at least good enough."

Mommy: "Thanks for the encouragement kiddo."

C: "It was nothing. But I think next time you should let me bake the cookies, OK? I have a chef costume you know."

If you ever, ever read anything that mentions baking cookies, cupcakes, or other such tasty treats, remind me, please, I beg of you, that I do not bake well.

Overheard in the playroom

A: "Bye bye! I'm going to work!"

Mommy: "Um, A? People are usually dressed when they go to work. Why don't you go put some clothes on first."

A: "Oh. Huh. (Pause) No! I go to na*ked work!"

Mommy: "Ahh. Well, have a good time then. Bring a sweater in case you get cold..."

Address book? Who needs an address book?

It says something about my organizational skills that in order to send out my holiday cards this year, I am still referring to the email my sister sent me TWO YEARS AGO with all of the relatives addresses. Hey, at least I didn't delete the email in an email clean out binge, unlike some change of address emails that I have had to request duplicates of with my head hung in shame.

Oh, and Auntie M? If you are reading this I need a few more :-). For Auntie P and Auntie S and the boys...and Aunt A's new address if you have it.

Random Thoughts, Courtsey of C

"I think it must be boring to be a puppet. Most of the time you are just stuffed in a dark box in a closet."

"Some people are allergic to nuts, and other people are allergic to, well, other things. Like cleaning up."

"The problem with school is that I have to sit still. I need to practice sitting still, but it is hard to do when you can't sit still."

"Candy canes are like lollipops except without the stick. And they all taste kind of like toothpaste."

"I'm going to stop talking about babies. Because maybe if I stop talking about them then you'll want another one, and then we can be a family of three kids."

"Some people have fake trees and some people have real trees. We are real tree people. But it is OK to be a fake tree person too. There are lots of different kinds of people in the world."

"It's hard to make your bed. The covers get all wrinkly no matter what you do."

The Holidays by the Numbers

Number of hours of sleep I am averaging a night (despite an early gift of children who sleep past 5 am): 5

Number of times we have seen Santa so far: 3

Number of times I am asked "Is is Christmas yet?" per day: hundreds.

Number of cookies I need to bake before the cookie swap on Tuesday: 8 dozen

Number of cookies I have baked so far that are cookie swap presentable: 0

Number of cookies I have personally consumed: 2 dozen

Number of holiday cards completed: 50

Number of holiday cards to go: 50

Number of holiday card envelopes that were missing from my order: 50

Number of people left to shop for: 3 (I think)

Number of holiday presents that are still works in progress: 6

Number of presents left to wrap: almost all of them

Number of menus I need to plan: 4

Number of parties I am throwing: 1

Number of adults attending said party: 18 and counting

Number of children attending said party: 20 and counting

Number of invitees who have plans for New Years that do not involve a party at my house: 0

Number of babysitters who have an interest in entertaining the children in my playroom: 0

Number of hours left until January 2: way too many

Overheard during cleanup

C: "Mommy? I've made a new rule for you."

Mommy: "Oh really? And what would that rule be?"

C: "If I am too tired, you clean up."

Mommy: "Ah. And I have a new rule for you."

C: "What is it?"

Mommy: "If you are too tired to clean up, you are too tired for TV and books."

C: "I don't think I like that rule."

Mommy: "Huh, well, rules are rules. I guess since you are too tired to clean up I have to do it."

C: "Well, I guess I COULD clean up, just a little. "

Overheard at Dinnertime

Loud giggling and muffled sounds are emanating from the playroom.

Mommy: "What is going on in there?"

More giggles.

Mommy: "Is everyone OK? A sounds a bit, well, muffled. What is going on in there?"

C: "Um, it's rather complicated. I'll have to explain it to you later when we can sit down and really talk."

Not going to jinx myself

I'm not going to say why I am in such a good mood. Not going to do it. But the observant folks might be able to figure it out. If you look closely at the random administrative stuff at the end of the post.

Conversation

Yesterday I spent the morning working our church's annual Breakfast with Santa. As, right after I grumped about how I am never tapped to volunteer despite numerous attempts, the Breakfast with Santa chair decided to step down and up shot my hand. And apparently, no one wants this particular job as it got advertised for weeks before I finally got the green light to take it over next year. So I shadowed the current chair for most of the morning learning where everything lived, who needs to do what, how many boxes of mini-donuts get ordered, etc, etc.

The outgoing chair is as nice as can be, and introduced me to everyone and their brother. I think I met more people yesterday than I have during the four years we have been coming to church. And I spent the whole morning on the verge of a panic attack, trying to remember names, trying to say nice and witty things, trying to show the "real me."

And I failed miserably. I never know what to say, and I feel like everything that does come out of my mouth is forced and not terribly relevant. I am never quite sure where to break into a conversation, so I generally just stand there nodding and trying to look engaged. I am sure the instant I left yesterday there was a gaggle of women wondering whether it would have been better to take on the breakfast themselves after all.

I don't know why I am so horrifically awkward in social situations. Every time I say that to M, he looks at me like I have two heads, as at home I chatter away with abandon. There are a few close friends who know the chatty me, and when I was working I could chat around the coffee pot fairly easily, but out in the general world? Not so much.

I so want the chatty, friendly me to come out in person. But it never really does. I agonize over every word that comes out of my mouth, worry that people won't like me, and then finally abandon ship and flee as soon as an opportunity presents itself. And I hate that about myself.

Why can't the whole world converse via email? I am a great emailer.

Bread

I'm retrying the New York Times No-Knead recipe today, this time using only white flour. So far it is going much better. M's Grammy, sister and nephews are coming for dinner, so I hope it turns out OK. I have a stuffed manicotti in the fridge all ready to pop into the oven when the arrive, and the makings of a salad. I of course forgot about dessert. Oh well, I think I can probably whip up some sort of a pudding or whatnot. The house is still a wreak though, and I can't quite find the energy to do much about it. Do you think I can just ask them not to use the bathroom while they are here? Or is that a Miss Manner's no-no?

What is your standby company dish? This is my first attempt at not cooking a lavish meal. It is just too hard with the kids running around....

Things that go bump in the night

It was not a good night for the worrier last night at Chez J-E. First there was the pitter patter of little feet ABOVE my head. Yes, the mice have moved from the playroom into the attic. Add to the list of errands for the day: buy Home Depot out of mouse traps. And buy some peanut butter. Apparently mice are not fans of soybean butter. I guess A isn't going to be climbing up into the attic anytime soon, and I really want the mice GONE.

Then there was the crash from downstairs. Fearful that the cats had broken my favorite salad bowl that is doubling as a bread rising device at the moment, I raced down to discover that bowl was safe, but the advent tree my dad had made the kids with 48 tiny presents (24 for each child) tied onto the branches had toppled from the weight of 48 tiny presents and scattered over the rug of the living room.

After retying the presents back on to the tree and returning to bed, I head a thud in A's room. And wail. She had fallen out of bed and of course missed the strategically placed pillows, landing headfirst onto the small corner of hardwood floor peaking out. So I spent the rest of the night lying in her bed serving both as a bed rail and a nursing attendant, waking her every so often to make sure there was no concussion. Because I worry about that kind of thing. (Rebecca and M are rolling their eyes right now. But I DO! So don't laugh.) She was, of course, fine. And now spoiled by a night of mommy snuggles.

And M? Well, he woke for the thud and wail at least...