I am not one to rely on others. I usually feel that one should not rely on someone else to do what they can do themselves. In fact, I have a hard time trusting others to follow through. Way back in the time I like to call BK, or before kids, I was a highly organized person. I could juggle numerous projects and get them done weeks before deadline. I was the person people called to get things done.
You read in all those baby books to take a break when you have a newborn, as often as possible. To hand that baby over to someone else. To ask people to help you clean and cook. Because I knew practically no one when I had Cookie, I had a hard time asking anyone for help. I am not the one to ask for help. I am the person who can handle anything. I am the person who keeps it together. My neighbor had to beg me to let her babysit so Hubby and I could have a date night. I think Cookie was like a year old before I relented and let her.
In a one week span I have asked for help three times. From friends, acquaintances, and even a stranger. A move completely out of the ordinary for me. Completely uncomfortable for me. A move that makes me feel vulnerable and not in a good way. But, when hubby was in the E.R., when I could see that Cookie was worried and stressed, I knew that I needed help. I reached out to anyone and everyone I could think of who might take her. Friends and classmates of Cookie were e-mailed...I was begging. Not a position I like to be in. But, the response I received was encouraging. The fact that a friend came, picked up my baby, fed her lunch, and remembered to bring extra socks for her, made me feel better. But, not well enough that I didn't show my appreciation in the form of a gift bag of stuff.
On Thursday, while hubby was out of town, I decided to take Cookie to Summer Camp via the bike. What an enormously bad idea. I had that intuitive feeling like, maybe I should just drive, but I can not make excuses for not exercising anymore. I was determined to get some exercise in while hubby was away. The flashbacks of the last time he went out of town, me taking a bike ride, getting a flat, and the ensuing hour of trying and succeeding of changing the tube was echoing in my brain as I set out.
But, I went anyway. I kept thinking, what are the chances, I mean I go out all the time, when he's home, why would I get a flat now? But on the way home with just Jelly in the trailer, I got a flat. I was nowhere close to being home...I was some 3 miles away, with my almost two year old. And I was not in the best neighborhood in town. My town is relatively safe, but we are not immune to theft or murder, or all the bad things that happen when humans come into contact with other humans. I knew that I could take a bus home, or call a taxi, but where would I leave the bike and trailer? They would be gone in minutes. So I pulled up to a not so nice apartment building's front lawn to try and fix my flat.
Normally, under good circumstances changing a flat would take me a little time, but when you don't have the right size spare tube, the pump is not working properly, and you have a crying 22 month old....things can go south quickly. I must have been trying to fix said tire for about an hour before someone stopped to help me. A few bike riders, runners, a couple walking a dog, and even the local police went by without asking if I needed help. Picture a disheveled bike rider sitting in front of a crappy apartment building with a relatively expensive piece of equipment (the bike trailer), with a toddler running around crying, covered in dirt. But, finally a girl named Megan stopped on her bike to ask if I needed help.
My pump for some reason was not working, I couldn't patch the tube, as I couldn't pump it up to find a leak, I replaced it with another tube, one slightly thinner, made for hubby's bike, but it would work, but couldn't pump it up. She proceeded to pump up my tire, and then asked if I would like to follow her to her house down the street, as she had an air compressor and a bolt for the tube's valve. She seemed trustworthy, I mean she did stop....and she helped me put the tire on, and even held the bike while I put Jelly back in...so we proceeded to her home. She fixed me up, we went on our way...about one block, and the tire went flat again. I turned around, went back to Megan's home and rang the bell. She let me park my bike and trailer in her garage and even gave me her garage code, so I could come back whenever I needed to for pick up. She was incredible and I am more than thankful to this stranger, who went above and beyond for me.
Now I was still 3 miles from home with a toddler. I racked my brain. I could walk to the bus stop about a block away, call a cab, or call someone I knew. The problem with calling someone, is that again, I had a toddler, and she needed a car seat. So, I was left with a limited group of people. Who would have a car seat without a child in it. The only people I could think of, were those whose kids were at Summer Camp with Cookie. So I called one of the Moms...who came and picked us up right away, like we only had to wait two minutes, she was down the street.
In less than a week I had to swallow my pride and ask for help, not once, but three times. I wish I could say it will come easier, but I don't think it will. In the meantime, I am thankful for the people who came to my rescue last week. I know that I could never ever return the favor.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Reflection on the Past
I'm not sure why, but I was thinking back to a time when I was in Middle School. One of the darkest times in my life. I was in the 8th grade, and had been bullied on and off since 6th grade. I was not a thin child. I was overweight, and in the cruelty that is children, I became an easy target for mean girls to pick on. All of the bullying began in P.E. And after experiencing the inattentiveness of my teachers, the lack of supervision in the locker room, and then witnessing some of the same scenarios played out in the school I taught at, I am almost glad that P.E. is one of the first things they cut in education. I said almost, because I do believe in teaching our children fitness, and about different sports and activities.
Maybe because Father's Day is this Sunday, but thinking about my Dad always brings me back to the day I saw him from a different light. The day he became human to me. The day my English Teacher agreed to drive me home after I begged her to take me because some of those bullies were waiting for me on my walk home. Those bullies wanted to "kick my ass." I'm sure today those same girls have very little recollection of the torture they put me through. Of the concocted reason to be mad at me. I remember it distinctly. I can still see the locker room clearly in my mind. See the unlocked locker against the far wall near the doors leading to the bathroom. Me, asking "Whose locker is this? Did someone leave it unlocked?" You see, the year earlier my locker was broken into. All of my clothes were stolen, including the $20 I had for lunch. It so happened on that day, out of the norm, my Mom did not pack me a lunch, she gave me money, and all she had was a larger bill. I remembered that feeling of having to walk around all day in my P.E. clothes because my Mom was working and they could not get a hold of her. I remember not being able to eat lunch that day because I had no money. And I remember the shame of having to tell my Mom and know exactly what girls did it as "revenge" for them getting caught ditching. (That's a whole other story). So I opened that unlocked locker, in my mind to find out whose it was so I could tell them. I pulled out a shirt, read the name out loud and asked if anyone knew her. Another girl from class just told me to "leave the locker open, because maybe they wanted it unlocked."
Later that day, the same girl approached me, and told me she was told that I broke into her locker and stole her stuff. When I tried to explain what happened, she pushed me and told me she was going to "kick my ass. And to mind my own business." I later learned that her and her friends left the locker unlocked because they shared P.E. clothes. A whole other kind of gross that I can not fathom why you would do that....but that is really the reason they were angry, they thought they would get caught.
The tormenting began. The girl and her friends would show up at my locker and threaten me. They even threatened my friends. There was a lot of pushing and mean words spoken to me. I played a Cat and Mouse game. I would change my route to get around to my classes. I would try and walk near teachers. I would even go late to classes or hide out in bathrooms. One day the girl and her friends accosted me on my way home. Thankfully the boy I grew up with and lived down the street from happened to be walking with me. He was pretty popular, so they just threatened me. But I knew my time was limited. Somehow someone got word to me that the girl and her friends would be waiting for me on my way home. That they were going to fight me. I was a good girl. I didn't believe in fighting. And more importantly, my family was going through a rough time. My Paternal Grandmother had just passed. My Dad was home and the idea of having to explain to him that I was in a fight was more stress on my parents. Something I keenly did not want to give them.
That day, I timidly told my English Teacher what would transpire if I was allowed to walk home. I begged her for a ride home. I only lived down the street. She agreed. I followed her to the office while she "finished up something" and she drove me home. I keenly remember the awkward silence. And I remember as we approached my house, seeing my Dad at the mailbox. As I got out of the car, he spoke to my teacher and as he turned to me. I started to cry and then so did he. It is the first and only time I have seen him shed tears.
As all things Junior High, the situation eventually was resolved, thanks to my big sister, who happened to know where the girl lived. When I confronted that girl in 0front of her home with her big sister and not her friends, she was forced to listen to me. And accept my apology for whatever she perceived I did.
As a Middle School teacher, one of my goals was to mitigate the kind of bullying and treatment I had experienced. I can give examples and stories about how I think I helped, but in life's weird twist of fate, I ended up helping one of those bullies, returning the favor that my teacher had done for me. I can still vividly remember the boy. He was from downtown L.A. and a real tough kid. He was big, he was mean, and I think he really was just a scared kid from the hood. He had been kicked out of our school, sent to three others, before according to district rules, sent back to us for his 8th grade year. One day he hung back in class at the end of the day. Which, for him was out of character. He was a bully to others and my class was always a safe zone. No one was allowed to be disrespectful of others. And no one was allowed to bully. I asked him if there was something wrong. If there was anything I could help him with. He told me that there were some guys waiting to "jump" him at the bus stop. He was going to his Aunt's house and was taking the city bus instead of the school bus. He informed me that if he got into anymore trouble, he'd be kicked out of the district. I was thinking, more like reform school or Juvie. He asked me for a ride to his Aunts'. The last thing I wanted was an adolescent teen boy in my car, let alone this one. But instead I agreed. You see, I remembered my 8th grade teacher, the risk she took for me, and I thought "Universe you suck", but I have to do it.
I took every precaution I could. I called his Mom and his Aunt for permission. I spoke to the Counselor and told her. I had him call his Mom on my cell while we were en route, and then confirmed with her when we arrived at his Aunt's house. It was the longest 15 minute drive of my life. My palms were sweaty and I was more nervous I think than when I first brought Cookie home from the hospital. I have always wondered what happened to that boy. He was one of those whose future had one of three possibilities; murdered, jail, or professional athlete. I hope he has ended up closer to the last.
Maybe because Father's Day is this Sunday, but thinking about my Dad always brings me back to the day I saw him from a different light. The day he became human to me. The day my English Teacher agreed to drive me home after I begged her to take me because some of those bullies were waiting for me on my walk home. Those bullies wanted to "kick my ass." I'm sure today those same girls have very little recollection of the torture they put me through. Of the concocted reason to be mad at me. I remember it distinctly. I can still see the locker room clearly in my mind. See the unlocked locker against the far wall near the doors leading to the bathroom. Me, asking "Whose locker is this? Did someone leave it unlocked?" You see, the year earlier my locker was broken into. All of my clothes were stolen, including the $20 I had for lunch. It so happened on that day, out of the norm, my Mom did not pack me a lunch, she gave me money, and all she had was a larger bill. I remembered that feeling of having to walk around all day in my P.E. clothes because my Mom was working and they could not get a hold of her. I remember not being able to eat lunch that day because I had no money. And I remember the shame of having to tell my Mom and know exactly what girls did it as "revenge" for them getting caught ditching. (That's a whole other story). So I opened that unlocked locker, in my mind to find out whose it was so I could tell them. I pulled out a shirt, read the name out loud and asked if anyone knew her. Another girl from class just told me to "leave the locker open, because maybe they wanted it unlocked."
Later that day, the same girl approached me, and told me she was told that I broke into her locker and stole her stuff. When I tried to explain what happened, she pushed me and told me she was going to "kick my ass. And to mind my own business." I later learned that her and her friends left the locker unlocked because they shared P.E. clothes. A whole other kind of gross that I can not fathom why you would do that....but that is really the reason they were angry, they thought they would get caught.
The tormenting began. The girl and her friends would show up at my locker and threaten me. They even threatened my friends. There was a lot of pushing and mean words spoken to me. I played a Cat and Mouse game. I would change my route to get around to my classes. I would try and walk near teachers. I would even go late to classes or hide out in bathrooms. One day the girl and her friends accosted me on my way home. Thankfully the boy I grew up with and lived down the street from happened to be walking with me. He was pretty popular, so they just threatened me. But I knew my time was limited. Somehow someone got word to me that the girl and her friends would be waiting for me on my way home. That they were going to fight me. I was a good girl. I didn't believe in fighting. And more importantly, my family was going through a rough time. My Paternal Grandmother had just passed. My Dad was home and the idea of having to explain to him that I was in a fight was more stress on my parents. Something I keenly did not want to give them.
That day, I timidly told my English Teacher what would transpire if I was allowed to walk home. I begged her for a ride home. I only lived down the street. She agreed. I followed her to the office while she "finished up something" and she drove me home. I keenly remember the awkward silence. And I remember as we approached my house, seeing my Dad at the mailbox. As I got out of the car, he spoke to my teacher and as he turned to me. I started to cry and then so did he. It is the first and only time I have seen him shed tears.
As all things Junior High, the situation eventually was resolved, thanks to my big sister, who happened to know where the girl lived. When I confronted that girl in 0front of her home with her big sister and not her friends, she was forced to listen to me. And accept my apology for whatever she perceived I did.
As a Middle School teacher, one of my goals was to mitigate the kind of bullying and treatment I had experienced. I can give examples and stories about how I think I helped, but in life's weird twist of fate, I ended up helping one of those bullies, returning the favor that my teacher had done for me. I can still vividly remember the boy. He was from downtown L.A. and a real tough kid. He was big, he was mean, and I think he really was just a scared kid from the hood. He had been kicked out of our school, sent to three others, before according to district rules, sent back to us for his 8th grade year. One day he hung back in class at the end of the day. Which, for him was out of character. He was a bully to others and my class was always a safe zone. No one was allowed to be disrespectful of others. And no one was allowed to bully. I asked him if there was something wrong. If there was anything I could help him with. He told me that there were some guys waiting to "jump" him at the bus stop. He was going to his Aunt's house and was taking the city bus instead of the school bus. He informed me that if he got into anymore trouble, he'd be kicked out of the district. I was thinking, more like reform school or Juvie. He asked me for a ride to his Aunts'. The last thing I wanted was an adolescent teen boy in my car, let alone this one. But instead I agreed. You see, I remembered my 8th grade teacher, the risk she took for me, and I thought "Universe you suck", but I have to do it.
I took every precaution I could. I called his Mom and his Aunt for permission. I spoke to the Counselor and told her. I had him call his Mom on my cell while we were en route, and then confirmed with her when we arrived at his Aunt's house. It was the longest 15 minute drive of my life. My palms were sweaty and I was more nervous I think than when I first brought Cookie home from the hospital. I have always wondered what happened to that boy. He was one of those whose future had one of three possibilities; murdered, jail, or professional athlete. I hope he has ended up closer to the last.
Monday, June 13, 2011
A Trip to the E.R. and a Pat on the Back
Friday we made a surprise trip to the E.R. Hubby had some severe chest pains. Turns out to be a huge anxiety attack about his impending trip to L.A., where he has to engage in just about every activity he hates. Thankfully nothing was really wrong with him physically.
Our trip, besides making me more than a little scared, showed me how prepared I really am for those unexpected moments. I actually for once was the Mom who had everything the kids needed. Pretty good for rushing out the door at 8:00 a.m. I managed to get Cookie to throw on some clothes, dressed myself, grabbed some snacks and drinks, and had both kids in the car in about 5 minutes. Granted, Jelly was still in her P.J.s, but I did grab her some shoes. I was pretty sure I had a change of clothes in my bag.
While we waited anxiously for any news about hubby, I was able to ply them with snacks and books. Frankly, I chose not to drag the kids into the exam room to be with him. Cookie was obviously worried, and I didn't want to freak her out any more and while Jelly was clueless, she would have just caused havoc. She is my little destroyer. The E.R. was pretty well equipped to deal with small children. They handed me crayons and coloring books right away, there was a fish tank to distract them, and they had a t.v. with VCR and DVD player and some kid movies to choose from. There were about a dozen wooden puzzles and a play table. The kids were well occupied. The longer we stayed, the more agitated Cookie got, especially after I brought her into the back to visit Daddy for a minute. I am more than fortunate, more than thankful, and more than humbled at how fast my friend Catherine came to the rescue and picked up Cookie for me. She was able to distract her with a play date and even provided her with lunch. For that, I can never repay her.
Only having Jelly there to watch and worry about was easier. She is still not cognisant enough to understand what was happening, but Cookie was. It doesn't help that all those "Mommy and Marcey" stories ended with trips to the hospital. But I told her that Daddy's heart was feeling a little sick so the doctors just needed to do some tests to make sure it was okay and get him medicine. I think deep down she knew it could have been bad...she was really really nice to her Daddy all weekend. There were a lot of extra hugs and I love yous.
But I did learn that first and foremost to always keep my bag stocked with food and drink. Second, always have crayons and paper. Third, have a change of clothes for both kids including underwear and socks and diapers. And finally have a surprise stashed away at home for those just in case moments. Because Cookie was exceptionally good at the E.R. She listened, she was quiet (well for her anyway), and she was polite. When I brought her home I was able to give her a prize. A prize for behaving exactly how I expect, and for making things easier for Mommy and Daddy. I had bought a Cars set and stashed it away thinking that I would give it to the kids for a plane ride or a trip or for something, you never know...and a week after I got it, I needed it. The Universe definitely works in mysterious ways. But this Mom gets a pat on the back for being well prepared.
Our trip, besides making me more than a little scared, showed me how prepared I really am for those unexpected moments. I actually for once was the Mom who had everything the kids needed. Pretty good for rushing out the door at 8:00 a.m. I managed to get Cookie to throw on some clothes, dressed myself, grabbed some snacks and drinks, and had both kids in the car in about 5 minutes. Granted, Jelly was still in her P.J.s, but I did grab her some shoes. I was pretty sure I had a change of clothes in my bag.
While we waited anxiously for any news about hubby, I was able to ply them with snacks and books. Frankly, I chose not to drag the kids into the exam room to be with him. Cookie was obviously worried, and I didn't want to freak her out any more and while Jelly was clueless, she would have just caused havoc. She is my little destroyer. The E.R. was pretty well equipped to deal with small children. They handed me crayons and coloring books right away, there was a fish tank to distract them, and they had a t.v. with VCR and DVD player and some kid movies to choose from. There were about a dozen wooden puzzles and a play table. The kids were well occupied. The longer we stayed, the more agitated Cookie got, especially after I brought her into the back to visit Daddy for a minute. I am more than fortunate, more than thankful, and more than humbled at how fast my friend Catherine came to the rescue and picked up Cookie for me. She was able to distract her with a play date and even provided her with lunch. For that, I can never repay her.
Only having Jelly there to watch and worry about was easier. She is still not cognisant enough to understand what was happening, but Cookie was. It doesn't help that all those "Mommy and Marcey" stories ended with trips to the hospital. But I told her that Daddy's heart was feeling a little sick so the doctors just needed to do some tests to make sure it was okay and get him medicine. I think deep down she knew it could have been bad...she was really really nice to her Daddy all weekend. There were a lot of extra hugs and I love yous.
But I did learn that first and foremost to always keep my bag stocked with food and drink. Second, always have crayons and paper. Third, have a change of clothes for both kids including underwear and socks and diapers. And finally have a surprise stashed away at home for those just in case moments. Because Cookie was exceptionally good at the E.R. She listened, she was quiet (well for her anyway), and she was polite. When I brought her home I was able to give her a prize. A prize for behaving exactly how I expect, and for making things easier for Mommy and Daddy. I had bought a Cars set and stashed it away thinking that I would give it to the kids for a plane ride or a trip or for something, you never know...and a week after I got it, I needed it. The Universe definitely works in mysterious ways. But this Mom gets a pat on the back for being well prepared.
Friday, June 10, 2011
This Might Not Turn Out How I Expected
I went to my favorite local toy store with Jelly yesterday. It's one of those stores that carry incredibly cute boutique clothes and wonderfully expensive toys, all that you want your kid to have. If you don't have a game plan before going in, your wallet might be in trouble. They even let your children explore and play with all the toys.....they are devious geniuses.
I had a game plan. I was going to buy gifts for two good friends, mostly from the clearance rack, because frankly their original prices are extremely high. I even knew what I wanted to buy. I was doing well, until I overheard one of the owners selling some "story dice and cards" to another customer. I was intrigued. Cookie asks for me to tell her stories all the time. She likes to tell me what to tell about and should I not tell it exactly how she imagines, my demanding monster gets upset....sometimes to the point of tears. These stories began as "Mommy and Marcey" stories. Stories about a little girl I grew up with and the mishaps and escapades we got ourselves into together. They all had a common theme, us doing something we weren't supposed to, and one of us, or both of us getting hurt or punished. Cookie loves them, but like all things Cookie, she likes to be in control. She has to be boss on how the stories should go. These story cards and dice sounded like a way for me to get her to think outside the box...and to come up with new themes and characters. Lately she wants Marcey to be jealous of Ginger about getting a certain toy. In reality, Marcey always got the cool toys because her parents had more money than mine did and I was always jealous of her.
So I bought both, the dice and the cards. Really both are cool ideas.
The story dice have nine dice, each with six pictures, like a phone or a bell, so when you roll them, you get many different combination of images to help you tell a story. You can of course use all or some of them to tell a story. But the idea of Cookie telling me the general theme and players and then letting the dice help in the development of the story seemed like a good idea.
The story cards are for younger kids about 3 to 5 years old and have a similar idea. There are 32 cards with images on them. The images are fairytale like. A Castle, a princess, a king, a little boy, and a witch. Again, the idea is to use the cards to help build a story. You can use all or some.
Cookie loves them. As a result, I spent most of yesterday telling story after story. While I love that she gets to build her imagination, she is not ready or she does not want to participate in the telling of the story herself. We spent three hours, yes three hours playing with them until I called "uncle". I just could not play anymore. I think it's cute that she calls the story cubes, "sugar cubes" and was touched when she laid out the cards to tell her sister a story.
I am a little hesitant to bring them out again today, as I am not ready to tell stories and be imaginative for three hours today. The teacher in me loves them, the tired Mom in me may need to warm up to them, or set a timer.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Coincidence....I think not
There is usually about once a month where I completely lose it. Once a month where I am an evil bitch to everyone, including my kids. Following my hormone induced freak out is the gut wracking guilt, but for about two days every month I contemplate running out the door and not coming back.
Growing up, my parents were friends with another family. This family also had two girls the same age as my sister and me. I really didn't like their little girl who was only a week younger than me, she was mean. But one day their Mom up and left them all. She packed her bags and went to Europe or something like that. She returned years later, but the damage was done. But this isn't really about them. It's just that for a split second once a month I understand their Mom. I get it. The urge to just run away from the screaming, crying, snot running, pooping kids, not to mention judgmental husband, who really means well, but EVERYTHING he says is just wrong, crosses my mind.
This week was just one of those cosmically crappy weeks. Of course it probably belongs on Reddit in the category of "What First World People Complain of"....but it is in one of the top ten worst weeks for me.
First, our stove broke. In one of my Best Mom moments of making sugar cookies with my own little Cookie, my oven stops working. We are mixing the dough, she's adding sugar, flour, eggs..I hear a popping sound. I can not figure out what it is...that is until I glance at the clock on the stove and realize it is not working. MY OVEN IS NOT WORKING. Because it is Tuesday, because Memorial day weekend is that weekend, we wait until Friday to order an oven. It will not be delivered until the following Thursday. I am facing almost two weeks without an oven. I'd like to say I plan delicious, wonderfully healthy meals to grill and cook in the crock pot...but, we order pizza, Chinese, and eat out for the most part. Well, mostly because my wonderful ungrateful family decides to not want to eat the first night I grill up steak, corn on the cob, and sweet potatoes, all cooked to perfection. I become a little petty at my family's indifference to my awesomeness. Still I am up for the World's Best Mom and Wife....but it soon goes downhill.
Sunday, I notice Jelly is running a fever as I put her down for a nap. She wakes up running about 101. And proceeds to puke all over me. Cookie, who is perpetually jealous of any attention handed out to Jelly tries her best to drive me up the wall. Let's just say there was lots of crying by both kids. Jelly, because she felt awful and just wanted to cuddle and basically crawl back into the womb, Cookie because I was not paying enough attention to her.
I spend not one but two nights on the couch with a sick Jelly. Before bed on the second night, I notice Jelly has a rash and she's been complaining that her mouth hurts. Coincidentally, I had just read a blog about a family's ill fated vacation to Puerto Rico where they all come down with a lovely virus called Coxsackie. And she described it as what Jelly had. This virus is ugly. This virus sucks, especially if you get the mouth sores. For five days Jelly would wake up in the middle of the night screaming about her mouth. All day, every five minutes she would stick her hand in her mouth and cry saying, "hurtee, hurtee." She then would cry, "hungee, hungee." I would try and feed her something and she would just cry some more. For five days my baby lived on ice cream and Top Ramen (cooked in microwave). And on day three Cookie got the dreaded disease, better known as hand/foot/and mouth disease.
Knowing that I had just spend two nights on the couch with Jelly, Cookie demanded that I sleep with her, as she was sick. Night three, I am sleeping in Cookie's bed, with Cookie and Jelly. Every two hours Cookie would wake crying for her "Neh Neh." Jelly would wake up and cry about her mouth. Three nights of little sleep. By night four, I was done. Neither kid could eat anything but ice cream, and it was 9 p.m., Cookie was exhausted, but refused to go to sleep unless I was there. Jelly was screaming and I had enough. Now we all love the book that's coming out "Go the F** to sleep" Because frankly we all of said it or thought it. And each one of us are jealous that we didn't think to write it first. And me, day four of no sleep. Day four of screaming, crying, clinging kids have had it. I start screaming, " YOU WILL GO TO SLEEP, I AM DONE, I AM NOT SLEEPING WITH EITHER OF YOU. I AM NOT CUDDLING ANYONE. I AM NOT LOOKING FOR NEH NEH. I DON'T WANT TO BE ANYWHERE NEAR EITHER OF YOU." I put Jelly in her bed screaming. I slammed the door to Cookie's room, and I laid down in my bed until I no longer heard a peep from either disease laden child.
By far not my best moment as a mom. I later went and laid in Cookie's bed and slept with her. Gathered up a crying Jelly in the middle of the night to sleep with us...and repeated the process of every two hours looking for the scrap of Cookie's blankie, calming a crying Jelly, and dealing with a cranky husband in the morning, who complained that the monitor to Cookie's room was on all night, yet he never turned it off, so he slept as fitfully as the three of us. Oh and I started my period. I'd like to say that I never once thought of running away...but on the fourth morning of waking to screaming kids, a period, a cranky husband, and no oven, I had visions of myself running down the street bra less, bare foot, and in my pajamas screaming and pulling at my hair like a crazy person. At the same time, that vision felt liberating, because I'd get to hear the birds. feel the warm sunshine that was out after a week and a half of rain (and I'm stuck at home still with two sick kids) and I would be far far away from my family whom I love more than life itself.
It's day six, Jelly is finally eating, Cookie's mouth is still a puss ridden mess, and I sheepishly admit to threatening to throw out he Neh Neh for the hundredth time. Coincidence that my oven breaks the very week my kids can't eat? You be the judge. But in my book, I guess there is a silver lining to everything.
Growing up, my parents were friends with another family. This family also had two girls the same age as my sister and me. I really didn't like their little girl who was only a week younger than me, she was mean. But one day their Mom up and left them all. She packed her bags and went to Europe or something like that. She returned years later, but the damage was done. But this isn't really about them. It's just that for a split second once a month I understand their Mom. I get it. The urge to just run away from the screaming, crying, snot running, pooping kids, not to mention judgmental husband, who really means well, but EVERYTHING he says is just wrong, crosses my mind.
This week was just one of those cosmically crappy weeks. Of course it probably belongs on Reddit in the category of "What First World People Complain of"....but it is in one of the top ten worst weeks for me.
First, our stove broke. In one of my Best Mom moments of making sugar cookies with my own little Cookie, my oven stops working. We are mixing the dough, she's adding sugar, flour, eggs..I hear a popping sound. I can not figure out what it is...that is until I glance at the clock on the stove and realize it is not working. MY OVEN IS NOT WORKING. Because it is Tuesday, because Memorial day weekend is that weekend, we wait until Friday to order an oven. It will not be delivered until the following Thursday. I am facing almost two weeks without an oven. I'd like to say I plan delicious, wonderfully healthy meals to grill and cook in the crock pot...but, we order pizza, Chinese, and eat out for the most part. Well, mostly because my wonderful ungrateful family decides to not want to eat the first night I grill up steak, corn on the cob, and sweet potatoes, all cooked to perfection. I become a little petty at my family's indifference to my awesomeness. Still I am up for the World's Best Mom and Wife....but it soon goes downhill.
Sunday, I notice Jelly is running a fever as I put her down for a nap. She wakes up running about 101. And proceeds to puke all over me. Cookie, who is perpetually jealous of any attention handed out to Jelly tries her best to drive me up the wall. Let's just say there was lots of crying by both kids. Jelly, because she felt awful and just wanted to cuddle and basically crawl back into the womb, Cookie because I was not paying enough attention to her.
I spend not one but two nights on the couch with a sick Jelly. Before bed on the second night, I notice Jelly has a rash and she's been complaining that her mouth hurts. Coincidentally, I had just read a blog about a family's ill fated vacation to Puerto Rico where they all come down with a lovely virus called Coxsackie. And she described it as what Jelly had. This virus is ugly. This virus sucks, especially if you get the mouth sores. For five days Jelly would wake up in the middle of the night screaming about her mouth. All day, every five minutes she would stick her hand in her mouth and cry saying, "hurtee, hurtee." She then would cry, "hungee, hungee." I would try and feed her something and she would just cry some more. For five days my baby lived on ice cream and Top Ramen (cooked in microwave). And on day three Cookie got the dreaded disease, better known as hand/foot/and mouth disease.
Knowing that I had just spend two nights on the couch with Jelly, Cookie demanded that I sleep with her, as she was sick. Night three, I am sleeping in Cookie's bed, with Cookie and Jelly. Every two hours Cookie would wake crying for her "Neh Neh." Jelly would wake up and cry about her mouth. Three nights of little sleep. By night four, I was done. Neither kid could eat anything but ice cream, and it was 9 p.m., Cookie was exhausted, but refused to go to sleep unless I was there. Jelly was screaming and I had enough. Now we all love the book that's coming out "Go the F** to sleep" Because frankly we all of said it or thought it. And each one of us are jealous that we didn't think to write it first. And me, day four of no sleep. Day four of screaming, crying, clinging kids have had it. I start screaming, " YOU WILL GO TO SLEEP, I AM DONE, I AM NOT SLEEPING WITH EITHER OF YOU. I AM NOT CUDDLING ANYONE. I AM NOT LOOKING FOR NEH NEH. I DON'T WANT TO BE ANYWHERE NEAR EITHER OF YOU." I put Jelly in her bed screaming. I slammed the door to Cookie's room, and I laid down in my bed until I no longer heard a peep from either disease laden child.
By far not my best moment as a mom. I later went and laid in Cookie's bed and slept with her. Gathered up a crying Jelly in the middle of the night to sleep with us...and repeated the process of every two hours looking for the scrap of Cookie's blankie, calming a crying Jelly, and dealing with a cranky husband in the morning, who complained that the monitor to Cookie's room was on all night, yet he never turned it off, so he slept as fitfully as the three of us. Oh and I started my period. I'd like to say that I never once thought of running away...but on the fourth morning of waking to screaming kids, a period, a cranky husband, and no oven, I had visions of myself running down the street bra less, bare foot, and in my pajamas screaming and pulling at my hair like a crazy person. At the same time, that vision felt liberating, because I'd get to hear the birds. feel the warm sunshine that was out after a week and a half of rain (and I'm stuck at home still with two sick kids) and I would be far far away from my family whom I love more than life itself.
It's day six, Jelly is finally eating, Cookie's mouth is still a puss ridden mess, and I sheepishly admit to threatening to throw out he Neh Neh for the hundredth time. Coincidence that my oven breaks the very week my kids can't eat? You be the judge. But in my book, I guess there is a silver lining to everything.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Ageist
I will readily admit that I am an ageist. I only have patience for things that work in favor of my kids at their particular age at this particular moment.
For example, it's the end of the school year for the kids in our area. This means that end of the year parties and activities. Most of those parties and activities are held at local parks around town. We have 27 parks! Yes, 27. The number is awesome, the choice is awesome...what's not so awesome is when you bring your two children, ages 4 and 22 months, to the park to play and it is crawling with elementary school age kids. And not just 5...but 60 of them. No matter what park you choose!
I am one of those parents who watch their children. I am sure some of you know a few parents who are too busy facebooking and texting or talking on their cell phones to watch their children. Even when I am talking to other parents at the park, I am still aware where my kids are and what they are doing.
Being a former teacher, I know that there are wonderful and fantastic teachers out there....but I also know that there are ones that don't care. Sometimes at the park I get to view the later...the ones who let their students do anything they want. They throw sand, push little kids out of the way, steal their buckets and shovels, and prevent the little ones from going on certain equipment. I hate having to be that mom admonishing the elementary kids when they are supposed to be having fun. I hate having to act as mediator for children that I am not responsible for. I am not a hovering parent. I let my kids try new things, fall (safely), fail, dust off and then try again. I teach my children tools on how to get along with others, although this doesn't always happen.
I particularly hate these elementary schools invading my park. I also get annoyed during the summer when busloads of kids from summer camps and daycare places show up at my normally tame and quiet park. I know that when Cookie starts elementary school I'll be one of those parents who think the parents of little one's need to chill out and share the park....cause I'm an ageist....and when there are too many kids I won't get to see this:
For example, it's the end of the school year for the kids in our area. This means that end of the year parties and activities. Most of those parties and activities are held at local parks around town. We have 27 parks! Yes, 27. The number is awesome, the choice is awesome...what's not so awesome is when you bring your two children, ages 4 and 22 months, to the park to play and it is crawling with elementary school age kids. And not just 5...but 60 of them. No matter what park you choose!
I am one of those parents who watch their children. I am sure some of you know a few parents who are too busy facebooking and texting or talking on their cell phones to watch their children. Even when I am talking to other parents at the park, I am still aware where my kids are and what they are doing.
Being a former teacher, I know that there are wonderful and fantastic teachers out there....but I also know that there are ones that don't care. Sometimes at the park I get to view the later...the ones who let their students do anything they want. They throw sand, push little kids out of the way, steal their buckets and shovels, and prevent the little ones from going on certain equipment. I hate having to be that mom admonishing the elementary kids when they are supposed to be having fun. I hate having to act as mediator for children that I am not responsible for. I am not a hovering parent. I let my kids try new things, fall (safely), fail, dust off and then try again. I teach my children tools on how to get along with others, although this doesn't always happen.
I particularly hate these elementary schools invading my park. I also get annoyed during the summer when busloads of kids from summer camps and daycare places show up at my normally tame and quiet park. I know that when Cookie starts elementary school I'll be one of those parents who think the parents of little one's need to chill out and share the park....cause I'm an ageist....and when there are too many kids I won't get to see this:
Monday, May 16, 2011
For the Hell of It.
Sometimes I like to say "No" to Jelly, just to say no. There really is no reason to say no, I mean I could say yes to whatever it is, but no is just so much funnier. I mean Jelly is almost two and she has started throwing those terrible two tantrums. I find them pretty hilarious. Maybe it's because I've been through them before, or maybe it is because they just are not as violent as Cookie's were. Does this make me a mean Mom?
I will pretend for appearance sakes to say it teaches her some positive traits. 1. I am in charge 2. You don't always get what you want. 3. You get nothing if you cry (cause sometimes I'll say yes when the crying stops). 4. patience.
On another note, I enjoyed scaring the pants off Cookie today. There she was, playing sweetly in her room, when I sneaked in quietly and yelled "BOO". She jumped like a foot and screamed. Then she started laughing....and of course I laughed an evil laugh. She said, "Mommy you scared me." I felt slightly satisfied.
Maybe I'm a little demented. I just like doing things for the hell of it.
I will pretend for appearance sakes to say it teaches her some positive traits. 1. I am in charge 2. You don't always get what you want. 3. You get nothing if you cry (cause sometimes I'll say yes when the crying stops). 4. patience.
On another note, I enjoyed scaring the pants off Cookie today. There she was, playing sweetly in her room, when I sneaked in quietly and yelled "BOO". She jumped like a foot and screamed. Then she started laughing....and of course I laughed an evil laugh. She said, "Mommy you scared me." I felt slightly satisfied.
Maybe I'm a little demented. I just like doing things for the hell of it.
Friday, May 6, 2011
What's with this age?
Nobody and I mean nobody warned me about four. You hear horror stories about two...trepidation about three, and downright fear about thirteen and well...any teen year. But four, nobody, told me about four. Take the terrible two tantrums, mix well with the word "No", and throw in a little "I don't want to" and you've got my four year old. Being a parent is delightful, it is fun, it is tiring, it is scary, and it is frustrating to no end. This four year old makes me absolutely terrified to reach teen years. Emotionally charged and verbally adept, she is exerting her independence like a freight train. If I was to tell her that the color was blue, she would insist it was red. I tell her to jump, she says she wants to lie down. She tells me she likes a certain food, then says she hates it.
The other day we went outside to take some four year old pictures in her princess dress. All things were going great.....and then in a flash of a moment tears and a tantrum. I would ask her to stand one place, she'd insist on another. This is where I need to learn to get good at reverse psychology. I have to make things seem like her idea, contrary to my idea. "Charlotte it's snowing, maybe you should go outside in your tennis shoes." then hope she chooses to wear her snow shoes instead.
I am not a fan of four...I hear five is better, but then again, I think those Mom's are just lying again.
The other day we went outside to take some four year old pictures in her princess dress. All things were going great.....and then in a flash of a moment tears and a tantrum. I would ask her to stand one place, she'd insist on another. This is where I need to learn to get good at reverse psychology. I have to make things seem like her idea, contrary to my idea. "Charlotte it's snowing, maybe you should go outside in your tennis shoes." then hope she chooses to wear her snow shoes instead.
I am not a fan of four...I hear five is better, but then again, I think those Mom's are just lying again.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Get Angry
I received an e-mail the other day from a woman I met once at a park while playing with my kids almost a year ago. We hit it off enough, that I got her e-mail and invited her to playgroup. Like many women I meet and invite to playgroup, I e-mailed her...but never heard back. That was until a few days ago.
I am not immune to the world or the problems many people are facing right now. The idea that our government, our congressmen and women are playing games while the numbers in poverty increase daily sickens me. The idea that they continue to give tax breaks to the richest of the rich, allow large conglomerate companies to avoid paying taxes drives me nuts. The fact that I am a historian, and throughout history, "trickle down economics" does not work. The rich do not create more jobs if you give them more money....point in case: in the 80s, they just took the money and built themselves new homes in other countries, and moved this country's manufacturing across the seas to places like China. But, this is not really about politics and my feeling on how all members, yes I said it, ALL members of congress need to be fired, we need to start over...maybe have a few teachers, plumbers, and waitresses start making the decisions...cause those there now are not there for us, the people's best interest, they are there to make more money, and keep their billions growing.
All that being said, this woman contacted me to see if my husband could hire her husband. She recalled that I mentioned he was looking in to hire a web guy to help him....she said her husband was good with computers, but was a landscape architect by trade. Things in a year have changed significantly for us, in the company my husband works for (for the better), and in what my husband needs in his "web" people. The e-mail is just one example, of many, I am sure, of what our economy, what the reality is for most Americans today. We are thankful every single day for what we have, for what his boss and the company he works for provides. We are not rich, we are not well off, but we are doing better than most. My heart breaks for this woman who not only has had to face a major life changing event in regards to her husbands unemployment, but two miscarriages in the time span from when I met her. A person so desperate, that she is begging virtual strangers for help. A person who, when I told her that unfortunately my husband hired four new people but all in California, that he is no longer looking for help, said they'd be willing to relocate. My heart breaks for her, her situation, and those who are too struggling to make ends meet. Those who are making daily decisions..."do I buy groceries or provide heat for my family this month."
I ask are we not angry enough yet?
I am not immune to the world or the problems many people are facing right now. The idea that our government, our congressmen and women are playing games while the numbers in poverty increase daily sickens me. The idea that they continue to give tax breaks to the richest of the rich, allow large conglomerate companies to avoid paying taxes drives me nuts. The fact that I am a historian, and throughout history, "trickle down economics" does not work. The rich do not create more jobs if you give them more money....point in case: in the 80s, they just took the money and built themselves new homes in other countries, and moved this country's manufacturing across the seas to places like China. But, this is not really about politics and my feeling on how all members, yes I said it, ALL members of congress need to be fired, we need to start over...maybe have a few teachers, plumbers, and waitresses start making the decisions...cause those there now are not there for us, the people's best interest, they are there to make more money, and keep their billions growing.
All that being said, this woman contacted me to see if my husband could hire her husband. She recalled that I mentioned he was looking in to hire a web guy to help him....she said her husband was good with computers, but was a landscape architect by trade. Things in a year have changed significantly for us, in the company my husband works for (for the better), and in what my husband needs in his "web" people. The e-mail is just one example, of many, I am sure, of what our economy, what the reality is for most Americans today. We are thankful every single day for what we have, for what his boss and the company he works for provides. We are not rich, we are not well off, but we are doing better than most. My heart breaks for this woman who not only has had to face a major life changing event in regards to her husbands unemployment, but two miscarriages in the time span from when I met her. A person so desperate, that she is begging virtual strangers for help. A person who, when I told her that unfortunately my husband hired four new people but all in California, that he is no longer looking for help, said they'd be willing to relocate. My heart breaks for her, her situation, and those who are too struggling to make ends meet. Those who are making daily decisions..."do I buy groceries or provide heat for my family this month."
I ask are we not angry enough yet?
Friday, March 25, 2011
Torn and Tattered
Next month my Cookie is 4 years old. Sometimes while driving, I'll glance in the rear view mirror and be thrown at how much she has grown, at what a big girl she is. Last night while cuddling before bed, I became just a little verklempt. Cookie hung on to my neck and pushed her little head into my neck and told me she loved me and wanted to hug me forever. In that moment I knew that this closeness to my baby girl was fleeting, that one day she will push me away. That one day she will tell me to get out of her room, that she will roll her eyes at me and tell me I am annoying.
But, for now I still have my bossy, talkative, boisterous, fearless little girl who loves to sing and dance without a care in the world. A little girl who jumps headfirst into the deep end of the pool even though she can't swim, and expects and knows that it will be okay, that someone will be there to catch her from drowning. My tomboy who asks for dinosaurs and princesses for Christmas. The first one in her preschool class to brave the zip line, even though technically she is the youngest. She wears princess dresses and cowgirl boots. Prefers her clothes only be purple, and hates to have her hair brushed. Is in one breath super jealous of her sister, yet very giving at the same time. She will sing at the top of her lungs even though in reality, she can not carry a tune (something she gets from me). And of course the one thing in those four years that goes everywhere with her. That has been dragged through the mud, sleet, snow, dirt, water, and goodness knows what else. The item that we can't get out of her face, even for pictures, her blankie, or "Neh Neh" as she calls it.
I am afraid, okay maybe relieved, that Neh Neh will not last until her 4th birthday. It has been through some transformations since she attached to it at 4 months old. The yellow thermal receiving blanket started out quite large. She would drag it behind her, tripping herself as she went. Finally, fed up with it being so long, I cut it down (or I should say them...I bought three of the same blanket for her). Last year, I put most of them away to be used in a quilt I am making for her out of all her baby blankets...and left her with just three Neh Nehs, one to be used at a time while the other two were in the wash. Two have been lost in travels...one at Disneyland, the other who knows where.....and we are left with one. One tattered and torn lovey. Last month I noticed that it was so worn, that it looked as if it was disintegrating. Cookie of course has not helped poor Neh Neh's plight, she has pulled and twisted it until the edging I had sewn around it detached from the middle part. Then what was left was about a 6X6 in square, has been torn into two very thin strips. The two vestiges of her baby and toddler hood are going going going and will be gone as she reaches 4 and becomes a little girl.
Neh Neh is so small, so minuscule that she loses it about a dozen times a day. Hysteria ensues...because she knows that it might be gone forever, that she might have misplaced it for the last time. Am I ready for my baby, my toddler to become a little girl? Am I ready for the attitude, the emotional roller coaster that comes with girls, I think it is already too late.... her Neh Neh, is torn and tattered, she has outgrown it, although she is still holding on, like I am. But someday, too soon, it will be gone and so will my little baby girl.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Meatballs-Beach House Style
Our last days at the beach house and I am working on clearing out the pantry. Tonight's menu was spaghetti and meatballs. Cookie asks for meatballs all the time. She loves ground beef in many different ways, and meatballs happens to be her favorite. I have been looking for the perfect meatball recipe, but so far it has alluded me...that is until today. Something about having to make due with what I have, to substitute for what I would normally use, has worked out in my favor. Five years of being married and trying my hand at cooking has helped. Below is my successful Meatball-Beach House Style recipe.
Meatballs-Beach House Style
1 pound ground beef
1/4 cup red onions chopped
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup Good Seasons Italian Dressing Seasoning prepared
1 egg
1/2 cup Ritz crackers crushed
salt to taste
pepper to taste
1 jar of Marinara Sauce (your choice, I used Barilla)
1 small can of tomato sauce
2 tbsps Olive Oil
1. Mix all ingredients together and then shape into balls. You can make as big or small as you desire
2. Heat Olive Oil in a frying pan. Brown Meatballs on all sides. Place onto bake safe pan. Pour sauces over the meatballs and bake until internal temp reaches 165 degrees. I baked at a low temp of 250 for about 2 hours...but I made them early in the afternoon, you could most likely turn up the heat and bake a shorter time. I also used a gas oven at sea level, so everything bakes faster and more evenly than my electric at home.
Meatballs-Beach House Style
1 pound ground beef
1/4 cup red onions chopped
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup Good Seasons Italian Dressing Seasoning prepared
1 egg
1/2 cup Ritz crackers crushed
salt to taste
pepper to taste
1 jar of Marinara Sauce (your choice, I used Barilla)
1 small can of tomato sauce
2 tbsps Olive Oil
1. Mix all ingredients together and then shape into balls. You can make as big or small as you desire
2. Heat Olive Oil in a frying pan. Brown Meatballs on all sides. Place onto bake safe pan. Pour sauces over the meatballs and bake until internal temp reaches 165 degrees. I baked at a low temp of 250 for about 2 hours...but I made them early in the afternoon, you could most likely turn up the heat and bake a shorter time. I also used a gas oven at sea level, so everything bakes faster and more evenly than my electric at home.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Vegetable Beef Soup..Beach House Style
Vegetable Beef Soup
1-2 pds of round beef steak cubed
1 cup diced onion
1 cup of carrots sliced thin
1 cup celery chopped
1 tbsp butter
1 can diced tomatoes
1 can tomato sauce
6 cups of beef broth (or water 4 bullion cubes or 4 tsps)
2 cloves of garlic
1 tbsp Worcester sauce
1 tbsp of cinnamon
1 bay leaf
1/2 tbsp of chili powder or you can use like I have in a pinch "famous Daves" rib rub or some other rub.(seriously)
salt and pepper to taste
1. In a large soup pot cook the onions in the butter over a med. heat until soft, stirring occasionally. Add the rest of the veggies. Cook about 5 minutes more, stirring occasionally. Add the meat and brown on all sides...stirring occasionally.
2. Add the Beef Broth, tomato sauce, diced tomatoes, Worcester, and the garlic (peel off the skin...but do not crush). Add the spices...I let them cook about 10 minutes, stir and taste then add more to taste.
3. Bring to a boil, stir and then simmer until the meat falls apart and the carrots are soft. I like to simmer covered at least an hour. Uncovered about an hour. You can also brown everything and then put in a crock pot.
Creative living
If you ever want to see what things you have in your kitchen and pantry that you really don't need or use, go away for a month. Stay in a beach cottage that has almost all the necessities...like plates, utensils, pots, pans, furniture, and beds. Go shopping for food and staples, then when you attempt to cook your family a meal, realize that all the things you usually use are not available or you forgot to buy.
We are lucky enough to be staying at the beach in Southern California for a month. Lucky to have a wonderful two bedroom beach cottage with almost everything including cable. Our first day was anything but ideal, as Cookie promptly puked at a local restaurant (her turn with the tummy flu that nearly did Hubby in as soon as we arrived in L.A....another story for another time maybe). When I finally did get out that evening for food staples I decided to go to a Super Target because upon arriving at said beach house, I realized that my number one mistake was not making sure it had a bathtub. 18 month olds simply do not appreciate a nice shower. So not wanting to go to multiple places, and we desperately needed food staples, I went to Super Target for food and a blow up kiddie pool to place in the shower.
I am not a huge fan of Target's grocery selection. In fact I am a little leery of it. I bought some chicken tenders which I had intended on making my infamous Frosted Flake chicken with the following night for dinner...but when one fails to buy Frosted Flakes (oops) and Hubby has the car (nobody walks in L.A....that and where the house is there is really nothing close enough or safe enough to walk to with two kids), ....creativity comes in. The pantry was pretty paltry anyway, bare bones, to be exact, as I was intending on going to the regular grocery store later in the week....I decided to use Ritz crackers as bread crumbs...a good choice as I also realized that we had no salt, just pepper for seasoning. Score one point for Mom. I realize that crackers are something others use regularly for bread crumbs...just that my Mom and Dad never did, so I felt pretty creative and the Hubby and non sick kid ate them.
Night two on my dinner menu (still have not gotten to the real grocery store) Vegetable Beef Soup. Things I did manage to get at Target, carrots, celery, and beef. However I had failed to get beef broth or any other kind of spices I usually use. Problem solved with a Beef Top Ramen packet. No Chili Powder or bay leaf....Cinnamon (who knows why I bought Cinnamon, because I don't know what I was thinking). One of the best beef soups I have made in a long time. Although cutting the beef into cubes was tougher than usual since I discovered that there was no butcher knife, just steak knives. Really, who stocks a kitchen and does not include at least one butcher knife but buys a rice cooker. I mean I use a rice cooker at least 3 times a week so score for me, but seriously. Recipe of soup to follow.
Things I have in my kitchen that I have discovered and rendered useless, Butcher knives who needs them, just tear the meat. Spices other than Cinnamon...okay salt is good and pepper too, but those others are just expensive and take up room in your cupboards and pantries. Baking trays, just use tin foil. Tupperware...eat everything if you make it. Bread crumbs, seriously just buy one kind of cracker and use those for everything, finger sandwiches, croutons, you get the gist. Spaghetti spoon. Dishwasher, use your hands. Dust Pan, just sweep the dirt outside. These are just some of the things I have discovered I've been doing wrong.
We are lucky enough to be staying at the beach in Southern California for a month. Lucky to have a wonderful two bedroom beach cottage with almost everything including cable. Our first day was anything but ideal, as Cookie promptly puked at a local restaurant (her turn with the tummy flu that nearly did Hubby in as soon as we arrived in L.A....another story for another time maybe). When I finally did get out that evening for food staples I decided to go to a Super Target because upon arriving at said beach house, I realized that my number one mistake was not making sure it had a bathtub. 18 month olds simply do not appreciate a nice shower. So not wanting to go to multiple places, and we desperately needed food staples, I went to Super Target for food and a blow up kiddie pool to place in the shower.
I am not a huge fan of Target's grocery selection. In fact I am a little leery of it. I bought some chicken tenders which I had intended on making my infamous Frosted Flake chicken with the following night for dinner...but when one fails to buy Frosted Flakes (oops) and Hubby has the car (nobody walks in L.A....that and where the house is there is really nothing close enough or safe enough to walk to with two kids), ....creativity comes in. The pantry was pretty paltry anyway, bare bones, to be exact, as I was intending on going to the regular grocery store later in the week....I decided to use Ritz crackers as bread crumbs...a good choice as I also realized that we had no salt, just pepper for seasoning. Score one point for Mom. I realize that crackers are something others use regularly for bread crumbs...just that my Mom and Dad never did, so I felt pretty creative and the Hubby and non sick kid ate them.
Night two on my dinner menu (still have not gotten to the real grocery store) Vegetable Beef Soup. Things I did manage to get at Target, carrots, celery, and beef. However I had failed to get beef broth or any other kind of spices I usually use. Problem solved with a Beef Top Ramen packet. No Chili Powder or bay leaf....Cinnamon (who knows why I bought Cinnamon, because I don't know what I was thinking). One of the best beef soups I have made in a long time. Although cutting the beef into cubes was tougher than usual since I discovered that there was no butcher knife, just steak knives. Really, who stocks a kitchen and does not include at least one butcher knife but buys a rice cooker. I mean I use a rice cooker at least 3 times a week so score for me, but seriously. Recipe of soup to follow.
Things I have in my kitchen that I have discovered and rendered useless, Butcher knives who needs them, just tear the meat. Spices other than Cinnamon...okay salt is good and pepper too, but those others are just expensive and take up room in your cupboards and pantries. Baking trays, just use tin foil. Tupperware...eat everything if you make it. Bread crumbs, seriously just buy one kind of cracker and use those for everything, finger sandwiches, croutons, you get the gist. Spaghetti spoon. Dishwasher, use your hands. Dust Pan, just sweep the dirt outside. These are just some of the things I have discovered I've been doing wrong.
Monday, January 24, 2011
In the gutter
I am no marketing genius, I leave that up to Hubby. He sometimes will blurt out while we are someplace, "are you kidding me people?" There are a lot of places that choose their company names or product names that make no sense. Names that are asking to be made fun of.
For example, on our way to the Denver Zoo there is a Chinese Restaurant named, "Ho Mei". Seems innocuous right? Wrong, it is in a predominantly black neighborhood. Did they name it so that calling it "Homey" would feel more natural for the locals? Whatever it means in Chinese, it makes me laugh every time I see it.
Or locally, a restaurant opened and their signage read, "RustiCoven". I should have taken a picture of this before they finally changed their logo to read, "Rustic Oven." The first time we saw the sign my husband actually did a hand to the head smack. But, I still call it the "Rusty Coven" and will as long as the place exists.
Today my mind was apparently in the gutter when I came across the scene of a man loading his company truck with the name "T & A Counters".
I mean, naming your business after you and your partners first names that start with a "T" and an "A" respectively sounds all right. But, when you put them together with "Counters" you are just asking for it. I actually drove past this truck, turned around and took a picture. And of course I just happened to get a picture of the owners ass sticking out of the truck. So what are the rules for counting the number of tits and asses? Do you have to go to school to become a "T & A" counter? Oh I could make jokes all day. Maybe my mind is just in the gutter. I am also wondering if you find this as amusing as I do?
For example, on our way to the Denver Zoo there is a Chinese Restaurant named, "Ho Mei". Seems innocuous right? Wrong, it is in a predominantly black neighborhood. Did they name it so that calling it "Homey" would feel more natural for the locals? Whatever it means in Chinese, it makes me laugh every time I see it.
Or locally, a restaurant opened and their signage read, "RustiCoven". I should have taken a picture of this before they finally changed their logo to read, "Rustic Oven." The first time we saw the sign my husband actually did a hand to the head smack. But, I still call it the "Rusty Coven" and will as long as the place exists.
Today my mind was apparently in the gutter when I came across the scene of a man loading his company truck with the name "T & A Counters".
I mean, naming your business after you and your partners first names that start with a "T" and an "A" respectively sounds all right. But, when you put them together with "Counters" you are just asking for it. I actually drove past this truck, turned around and took a picture. And of course I just happened to get a picture of the owners ass sticking out of the truck. So what are the rules for counting the number of tits and asses? Do you have to go to school to become a "T & A" counter? Oh I could make jokes all day. Maybe my mind is just in the gutter. I am also wondering if you find this as amusing as I do?
Tofu Lo Mein Stir Fry
I am forever trying to find ways to cook Tofu. Besides the fact that Jelly loves the stuff, it is good for you and provides a great alternative to meat. We decided to purchase a 1/4 of a cow last Fall. The cow comes from a Colorado farm where the cows are not pumped full of hormones and are grass fed. When you go to pick up your meat, they literally butcher the cow that day. Needless to say we have a lot of beef products.
I like to try and meal plan my week where we have a rotation of chicken, beef, pork, and tofu. It doesn't always work out, as my kids are pretty picky eaters and sometimes I just want them to eat instead of turning their noses up at what I serve them. I refuse to stop feeding the kids healthy foods because all they want is PB&J. The rule in the house is that they have to try everything on their plate, but do not have to finish it. I can not force them to eat. I am under the belief that if they are hungry, they will eat, even if it isn't chicken nuggets. (which they only get when we go out for dinner).
I never ever have "dessert" because that would just set me and them up for disaster. Since I have no will power when it comes to things like chocolate or ice cream, I don't keep it in the house. Even chocolate chips, because eventually I will raid the bag and start eating them by the spoonful. I know some people have dessert every night and have to battle the food dilemma nightly. "Did I eat enough Mommy? Can I have dessert Mommy?" None of that here. We just ask, "Did you try everything on your plate? We'd like you to take a bite of your carrots, before you ask to be excused."
The following recipe is one I put together that would satisfy both the kids and us adults. Jelly gets her tofu, which I love, too. Cookie gets her pasta, and everyone gets a good dose of vegetables. (sorry no pictures today)
Tofu LoMein Stir Fry
1 package extra-firm tofu
1 package of spaghetti (I use regular spaghetti size)
2 tbsp veg. oil
1/2 onion sliced
2 stalks of celery, thinly sliced
1 med. red pepper thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic crushed
1 large zucchini cut into thin half moons
1/4 pkg spinach
1 broccoli crown separated
2 large carrots peeled, shredded
1/4 cup Mr. Yoshida’s (or you can mix some soy sauce w/ some brown sugar or honey)
red pepper flakes according to taste (I don't use because the kids don't like spice, but I have added Chinese sriracha to hubby's and mine.)
1. Cook Pasta according to package directions. Drain and set aside.
2. In a large frying pan or wok, brown tofu in 1 tbsp oil, set aside on paper towel lined plate.
3. Add remaining oil to the pan, cook onions, garlic, celery and bell peppers until soft
4. Put zucchini, carrots, broccoli, spinach in pan, cover and steam 5 minutes
5. Add tofu and pasta and Mr. Yoshida’s mix cook on med. until warm.
6. You can add hot sauce or sriracha or even Korean hot sauce according to your own tastes.
I like to try and meal plan my week where we have a rotation of chicken, beef, pork, and tofu. It doesn't always work out, as my kids are pretty picky eaters and sometimes I just want them to eat instead of turning their noses up at what I serve them. I refuse to stop feeding the kids healthy foods because all they want is PB&J. The rule in the house is that they have to try everything on their plate, but do not have to finish it. I can not force them to eat. I am under the belief that if they are hungry, they will eat, even if it isn't chicken nuggets. (which they only get when we go out for dinner).
I never ever have "dessert" because that would just set me and them up for disaster. Since I have no will power when it comes to things like chocolate or ice cream, I don't keep it in the house. Even chocolate chips, because eventually I will raid the bag and start eating them by the spoonful. I know some people have dessert every night and have to battle the food dilemma nightly. "Did I eat enough Mommy? Can I have dessert Mommy?" None of that here. We just ask, "Did you try everything on your plate? We'd like you to take a bite of your carrots, before you ask to be excused."
The following recipe is one I put together that would satisfy both the kids and us adults. Jelly gets her tofu, which I love, too. Cookie gets her pasta, and everyone gets a good dose of vegetables. (sorry no pictures today)
Tofu LoMein Stir Fry
1 package extra-firm tofu
1 package of spaghetti (I use regular spaghetti size)
2 tbsp veg. oil
1/2 onion sliced
2 stalks of celery, thinly sliced
1 med. red pepper thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic crushed
1 large zucchini cut into thin half moons
1/4 pkg spinach
1 broccoli crown separated
2 large carrots peeled, shredded
1/4 cup Mr. Yoshida’s (or you can mix some soy sauce w/ some brown sugar or honey)
red pepper flakes according to taste (I don't use because the kids don't like spice, but I have added Chinese sriracha to hubby's and mine.)
1. Cook Pasta according to package directions. Drain and set aside.
2. In a large frying pan or wok, brown tofu in 1 tbsp oil, set aside on paper towel lined plate.
3. Add remaining oil to the pan, cook onions, garlic, celery and bell peppers until soft
4. Put zucchini, carrots, broccoli, spinach in pan, cover and steam 5 minutes
5. Add tofu and pasta and Mr. Yoshida’s mix cook on med. until warm.
6. You can add hot sauce or sriracha or even Korean hot sauce according to your own tastes.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Humidify
I am on the hunt once again for the world's most efficient humidifier. I am not asking much really. I want something that produces a mist to humidify the room at least 30%. I want something that doesn't leak. And I want something that doesn't sound like an airplane running in the room. Oh and can it function longer than one winter? How hard is it to get these things really? Growing up we had a humidifier that mom brought out every time we got a cold. It was bare bones back then, but while loud and leaving a small water puddle near the vapor outlet, it worked for like ever.
We have had four different brand humidifiers in the five years we've been married and only one that I was decently happy enough with that I bought another of the same and then they both promptly stopped working in different ways. All work okay until the 30 days are up for warranty.
When my sister came to visit, my nephew came down with the croup. I rushed over to Target and bought a humidifier. From the get go, the thing didn't work right, but my sister, who was concerned about my nephew only cared that it put out the vapor, not that you couldn't change how much vapor or even turn the unit off without unplugging it, despite what the instruction manual said it should. Since she never informed me that it didn't work right, or maybe it did and then two months later when I took it out again, the gauges stopped working, I couldn't return it. The machine is quite loud and hubby refuses to have it in our room, but it does emit a great vapor.
The next one I bought was the cutesy Frog looking one from Crane for Cookie's room. It was quiet, it emitted a small amount of vapor....but only worked well enough to humidify a small closet. I continued to use it though for a good two winter seasons, but after the second, the plastic cracked and broke, rendering the unit unusable.
Next, I purchased an ultrasonic one that didn't require a filter like the first one did, which frankly was gross and I changed often. While the first unit was just under $50, filters are close to $12 a piece....thus making the unit actually not that economical. The ultrasonic did not have filters, but was on the pricier side, closer to $100.00. I liked the ultrasonic unit, as it seemed to work, it had a humidity control monitor that seemed to work, and kept the room humidified. I liked it so much , I ran back to the store and bought another one so I could have one in each of the kid's rooms because inevitably they will both be sick at the same time. Then inexplicably one started dripping water from the base....and I mean the whole unit of water, all of the bookshelf I had it sitting on, down the back, soaking the entire carpet. Having had the book self anchored to the wall for kid safety, we had to remove said anchors, empty book self and spend an hour with the steam cleaner soaking up the water from the carpet. It took over two days to dry completely. with the floor heater pointed to it. The other one stopped measuring moisture properly and would turn off, so I had to leave it on all the time at optimum output. Now I am back to using filtered loud one until I can find another unit.
I have been online. I have read hundreds of reviews regarding numerous different humidifiers and everyone, it seems, has the same problems with every single product out there. I am even willing to shell out $300 for a product, if it works...but even those seem to have crappy reviews. Are humidifiers that difficult to make? Or is this some gigantic conspiracy by these companies to make a product that only lasts 90 days, forcing you, the consumer, to continue to buy more? I once had an American made car, whose parts individually broke as soon as the warranty ran out. The rear view mirror literally came off the window. Door handles broke, belts burst, and I don't want to forget the peeling paint problem...all occurring days after the warranty was over.
Maybe this time I'll get lucky and find something that works.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Holiday Sugar Cookies
My friend over at Evolvingmommy.com is hosting a cookie exchange again this year. Last year I accumulated many yummy and delicious cookie recipes. I was baking almost everyday before Christmas last year thanks to her.
I am reposting my Vanilla Cut Out Cookie Recipe for her exchange. I found these to be the best...and I mean best cut out, no need to refrigerate dough recipe. My Hungarian friend retrieved this recipe from an old Hungarian Cookbook, translated it for me, and then I had to convert everything from grams to cups and tablespoons and teaspoons. I did make a couple changes....but I bet you won't eat just one. I love my sugar cookies nice and soft, so I don't cook them until they are golden brown on the bottom, but if you cook them longer they turn out nice and crisp if that's what you prefer. I also like my cookies thick, but you can roll out the dough to whatever thickness you prefer. I make these for every holiday...but have yet to make them for Christmas this year...I went with chocolate this week. Therefore my picture is one from Spring. My own little Cookie loves to make these and Jelly just loves Cookies.....Enjoy
Vanilla Cut Out Cookies
2 3/4 Cups All purpose flour
2 1/2 Sticks of Butter (or 1 1/4 cups)
1 1/2 Cups Sugar
1 1/2 tsp Vanilla
4 Egg Yolks (reserve whites to baste cookies)
Mix all ingredients together until forms a dough. Roll with flour and cut out with favorite cookie cutters. Baste with egg whites, sprinkle with sugar or sprinkles if desired. Bake 350F until golden brown.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Personal Shopper
Hubby's boss has summoned us to the company Holiday Party. And when I say summoned, I mean it. Since Hubby's company is in California, that means we have to fly out to go. The boss man is paying for the whole family to go. Great news considering that my grandfather had a fall and is now in a nursing home. I wanted to fly home to Mom last week, but had puking kids. Now I can go and have someone to pay for it.
Of course a Holiday Party means a holiday dress, thus sending me into a panic.It's been about five years since I've really needed to dress nicely. Five years since I've worn actual nice clothes. I am a mom, and I have become that Stay at Home Mom horror. Frankly I can not see spending good money on clothes that the kids just ruin with snot, puke, and other lovely things. One I get dressed in the morning, the nice clean clothes last approximately 5 minutes. Little fingers with some kind of goo always smudge them. Plus my size keeps changing.
To the mall I headed to find the perfect little black dress. You all know the one I'm talking about. Two hours alone at the mall for shopping while hubby takes care of the home front is pure bliss. Shopping and trying on clothes without grubby hands or whining kids is a plus.
While discarding the fifth unacceptable dress, hubby texts me to inform me that the party is casual....so buy something nice, but casual. Oh Thank GOD! I was seriously becoming depressed, having been unable to loose the baby weight after Jelly. That's a combination of lack of exercise (not without trying trust me...these kids don't cooperate with me trying to live a healthy lifestyle...not sure how others do it) and still nursing. Yes, I am in the minority who can not loose weight while nursing. I didn't loose a pound until I stopped nursing Cookie.
So I left the big department store and headed to my all time favorite store, Ann Taylor. I used to love their clothes, maybe I'm too old. Maybe my body just changed too much...but that store was a colossal fail. It could have been the florescent lighting they placed along both sides of the mirror, casting a horrific glow, making it impossible to see if clothes actually fit properly, or it could be that they had nothing in the exact size I needed. Either too big or too small.
Dejected just a tad, I walked into Eddie Bauer. They've been sending us their catalog and I had walked in there the previous week and bought hubby two new work shirts and me a brand spanking new adorable winter coat. I was impressed with the service I had received, and thought to try them again.
Like before, I received excellent service. But it got even better. As I am trying on clothes I hear a voice outside my door. "Hi, my name is Katie and I can help you with anything you want..in just a minute....ummm, I kinda have to get dressed as I was trying on all our clearance stuff." I open the door and say, "sounds like fun, when you get a chance can I get another size in these pants." That's when the fun begins. She oohs and ahs about what I'm trying on, comes back with the requested size pants and a boat load of other clothes. She says, "here's some stuff I thought would look great and it's on clearance...so just give it a try." I had been lamenting just the day before to a friend that maybe I needed to hire a personal shopper because I hadn't a clue as what to buy anymore. My body was f*ed, and I am now 30 not 20. I am outdated and haven't a clue as what to buy. The next hour and a half consisted of Katie as my own personal shopper and new best friend. Honest opinions about clothing and great options. Not only did I leave the store with a great outfit to wear to Hubby's Christmas party, I left with two outfits and a fuzzy gloved ice scraper. Can you say salesperson of the year?
I am so happy with my purchases and the personal attention I am going to write a positive letter to the company...I know something different from the terse ones I've been writing to everyone.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Things that go Bump in the Night
You ever have one of those feeling as a parent that you are just destined not to get sleep that night? Last night was one of those nights. I have recently been a little obsessed with Korean Drama shows. I used to watch them years ago in order to practice my Korean, and get the cadence of the language when I was learning it. Since we cancelled cable over a year ago, we've been watching t.v. online....and the site we consistently go back to has been adding Korean Drama to their catalog of shows.
The cool thing about it, is that, unlike American soap operas, they end in sixteen episodes, and the website usually posts all episodes at once. There is no waiting a week for the next episode or even a day. The bad part of this, is they are highly addicting, and all I want to do is watch the show I am currently on. All. Day. Hey kids you need a bath? Eh we'll just skip it tonight...MinSung is about to meet up with Hwang So. Anyway the last two nights I have been staying up past 11 o'clock watching. Stupid me.
Last night I had that intuitive feeling that I should be going to bed at 9 o'clock, but could not turn off my Korean Drama. As I hit the hay at around 11:30, I tossed and turned and just as I was finally drifting off to slumberland, Jelly started crying. She's going through a pretty rough separation anxiety and has been fighting naps, sleep, and going back to sleep in general. Thinking her issue was this, I vowed that after going in, changing a minor wet diaper, rubbing a tummy for a few minutes, I was going to let her cry it out. Immediately upon leaving the room she started screaming. A fever, high pitch scream. Not her normal scream, but she sounded angry.
From the Cookie's monitor I could hear her tossing a little, most likely disturbed by her sister. And that's when I heard it, a bump. Thinking it was Cookie getting out of bed to go pee, I ignored it. But, then I didin't hear her door open. So I finally got out of bed to deal with the fever pitch non-stop screaming of Jelly before she really did wake up Cookie. Ready to show her my frustration, I walked in and there she was....wondering around her room crying! In case you missed that, my 15 month old was out of her crib!!!!! That bump was Jelly climbing out of her crib. Grabbing my child to my now very awake self, feeling her all over to make sure she was uninjured. I proceeded to cuddle with he until she started to drift to sleep. She was pulling her ears, so I got to thinking she was probably teething again.
Fast forward to four a.m. After nursing the crying Jelly (we have just the one left), I put her back to bed. Five a.m. I hear her coughing and crying. The sound every Mom knows means...puke is going to follow that cough. I get up and as soon as I lift her, she starts throwing up. Panic, did she hit her head when she climbed out? I am now examining my now naked child's head for any discerning bumps. No, nothing. I am pretty positive she doesn't have a concussion. Despite all the puke, the panic about concussion and bleeding in the brain. I have the following recurring thought, "Oh my God! She's climbing out of her crib already, what the fuck am I going to do?"
The cool thing about it, is that, unlike American soap operas, they end in sixteen episodes, and the website usually posts all episodes at once. There is no waiting a week for the next episode or even a day. The bad part of this, is they are highly addicting, and all I want to do is watch the show I am currently on. All. Day. Hey kids you need a bath? Eh we'll just skip it tonight...MinSung is about to meet up with Hwang So. Anyway the last two nights I have been staying up past 11 o'clock watching. Stupid me.
Last night I had that intuitive feeling that I should be going to bed at 9 o'clock, but could not turn off my Korean Drama. As I hit the hay at around 11:30, I tossed and turned and just as I was finally drifting off to slumberland, Jelly started crying. She's going through a pretty rough separation anxiety and has been fighting naps, sleep, and going back to sleep in general. Thinking her issue was this, I vowed that after going in, changing a minor wet diaper, rubbing a tummy for a few minutes, I was going to let her cry it out. Immediately upon leaving the room she started screaming. A fever, high pitch scream. Not her normal scream, but she sounded angry.
From the Cookie's monitor I could hear her tossing a little, most likely disturbed by her sister. And that's when I heard it, a bump. Thinking it was Cookie getting out of bed to go pee, I ignored it. But, then I didin't hear her door open. So I finally got out of bed to deal with the fever pitch non-stop screaming of Jelly before she really did wake up Cookie. Ready to show her my frustration, I walked in and there she was....wondering around her room crying! In case you missed that, my 15 month old was out of her crib!!!!! That bump was Jelly climbing out of her crib. Grabbing my child to my now very awake self, feeling her all over to make sure she was uninjured. I proceeded to cuddle with he until she started to drift to sleep. She was pulling her ears, so I got to thinking she was probably teething again.
Fast forward to four a.m. After nursing the crying Jelly (we have just the one left), I put her back to bed. Five a.m. I hear her coughing and crying. The sound every Mom knows means...puke is going to follow that cough. I get up and as soon as I lift her, she starts throwing up. Panic, did she hit her head when she climbed out? I am now examining my now naked child's head for any discerning bumps. No, nothing. I am pretty positive she doesn't have a concussion. Despite all the puke, the panic about concussion and bleeding in the brain. I have the following recurring thought, "Oh my God! She's climbing out of her crib already, what the fuck am I going to do?"
Monday, October 11, 2010
Laughter the Best Medicine
They say that laughter is the best medicine. That laughter actually makes a person healthier. I haven't really had a good laugh in a long time. Don't get me wrong, I laugh, I find things funny, particularly, hubby and some of the things the kids do. But a good, strong, tears rolling down my face laugh, not so much.
Hubby says that I am too serious. My siblings like to say I am too. Which, probably means I am. I just don't take responsibility lightly. When I was teaching, I wish I could say I was the funny teacher...cause who doesn't like a teacher who is funny? My classes were fun, the kids generally liked me (I think), and learning happened all the time. However, I was always professional and a little cynical. Seasoned teachers told me I acted like a veteran. The things I said, the way I held myself screamed old timer. Yep, a nice way of saying I was serious, that I didn't have that new teacher glow. It was not meant as an insult, as seasoned teachers kinda felt threatened by the newer, younger teachers. New teachers have energy, they have pizazz, and many have that young/good looking thing that even if they are terrible at the job, the kids still love them. One student once told me that I hung out with the "popular teachers." I think she meant the younger ones in their twenties opposed to those in their 40s-60s (cause at the school I taught we didn't have many in between...most were within 10 years of retirement). But, I could hang with the older crowd and fit right in. The other new teacher had problems being able to relate to their mentors.
As a stay at home mom, I take my job very seriously. What I do is important, I have to convince myself of this daily or I would just get depressed. But I am not the "cool" Mom. I never will be. My parents were the cool parents. My Mom used to pile all the kids in the neighborhood in their station wagon and just drive around turning right or left when the kids told her to. My dad would bring home the company truck, pile the kids in the back and take everyone out to ice cream. These things would never happen in my home. First, hubby isn't too keen on kids other than our own. Second, all that gas wasted, and I would not feel comfortable driving all the kids around in the neighborhood. The responsibility scares me. Yep, I am too serious.
Last night Cookie asked me to come play in her room with her. So I obliged, since really how long is she really going to want to play with me anyway? One day she's going to be slamming that bedroom door asking me to please leave her alone. She told me she wanted to give me a show and to get in the closet (lucky girl has a walk in). And then she sang and danced and intermittently between the singing and dancing she started burping and farting. I was laughing so hard tears started streaming down my face. My sides hurt. And Cookie kept laughing because I was laughing. Then she' ask me to stop so the show could go on...but she'd start to giggle, then she'd burp and then I'd start laughing again. It felt really really good. I love my Cookie and I was reminded that sometimes I just need to let go, stop worrying about the laundry or the kitchen that has yet to be cleaned and enjoy my kids. Because they are really really funny.
Hubby says that I am too serious. My siblings like to say I am too. Which, probably means I am. I just don't take responsibility lightly. When I was teaching, I wish I could say I was the funny teacher...cause who doesn't like a teacher who is funny? My classes were fun, the kids generally liked me (I think), and learning happened all the time. However, I was always professional and a little cynical. Seasoned teachers told me I acted like a veteran. The things I said, the way I held myself screamed old timer. Yep, a nice way of saying I was serious, that I didn't have that new teacher glow. It was not meant as an insult, as seasoned teachers kinda felt threatened by the newer, younger teachers. New teachers have energy, they have pizazz, and many have that young/good looking thing that even if they are terrible at the job, the kids still love them. One student once told me that I hung out with the "popular teachers." I think she meant the younger ones in their twenties opposed to those in their 40s-60s (cause at the school I taught we didn't have many in between...most were within 10 years of retirement). But, I could hang with the older crowd and fit right in. The other new teacher had problems being able to relate to their mentors.
As a stay at home mom, I take my job very seriously. What I do is important, I have to convince myself of this daily or I would just get depressed. But I am not the "cool" Mom. I never will be. My parents were the cool parents. My Mom used to pile all the kids in the neighborhood in their station wagon and just drive around turning right or left when the kids told her to. My dad would bring home the company truck, pile the kids in the back and take everyone out to ice cream. These things would never happen in my home. First, hubby isn't too keen on kids other than our own. Second, all that gas wasted, and I would not feel comfortable driving all the kids around in the neighborhood. The responsibility scares me. Yep, I am too serious.
Last night Cookie asked me to come play in her room with her. So I obliged, since really how long is she really going to want to play with me anyway? One day she's going to be slamming that bedroom door asking me to please leave her alone. She told me she wanted to give me a show and to get in the closet (lucky girl has a walk in). And then she sang and danced and intermittently between the singing and dancing she started burping and farting. I was laughing so hard tears started streaming down my face. My sides hurt. And Cookie kept laughing because I was laughing. Then she' ask me to stop so the show could go on...but she'd start to giggle, then she'd burp and then I'd start laughing again. It felt really really good. I love my Cookie and I was reminded that sometimes I just need to let go, stop worrying about the laundry or the kitchen that has yet to be cleaned and enjoy my kids. Because they are really really funny.
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