Thursday, August 31, 2006
It started Monday night when I realized that I didn't want to cook anything in the freezer and had no meat thawed. I pulled out a package of tofu, a can of black beans, some salsa, torillas, and shredded cheese and made some vegetarian soft tacos.
Alec took a bite of the taco and looked inside at the cubed tofu. "What the heck is that? Tofu?! I didn't know we even had tofu."
"Is it ok?"
"Well, it could really use some ground beef," he said, as he gobbled the 2 tacos on his plate and went looking for seconds.
I'd saved about half the can of black beans and half the tofu package. So last night for dinner (because Lauren talked me into McDonald's on Tuesday night) I made chili with black beans, adding to it some red beans, onions, and green pepper, and stuffed some potato skins with it.
Warming the leftover chili and scooped out potato in a skillet, I added 3 eggs and some cheese and made us a Mexican frittata for lunch.
Tonight I plan to cook a stir fry with the leftover tofu, green beans, carrots, and green peppers, and serve it over some brown rice.
1. Who was your first prom date?
When I was 14, I met a boy at an airport through a program called NACEL, and no, I no longer remember what it stands for, but it was a foreign exchange program which brought French and Spanish students to the United States, and sent American students to France and Spain. About a year later, a mutual acquaintance, Carolyn put us back in touch. We went out with Carolyn and his best friend Peter, and he asked me to his prom. We went as a group.
2. Who was your first roommate?
My first and only roommate was Marcie. We lived together freshman year at Emerson. She was from Oregon and a journalism major.
3. What alcoholic beverage did you drink when you got drunk the first time?
During parent's weekend at Emerson, I consumed copious amounts of wine at a very nice restaurant with my dad. He figured at 18, I knew how to drink. We spent the rest of the evening in my dorm room until I stopped throwing up what was probably an expensive Italian dinner. My boyfriend called and yelled at my father because we'd agreed not to drink. My roommate Marcie got pissed because Dad smoked in the room.
4. What was your first job?
I started babysitting neighborhood kids when I was 11. When I turned 16, my mom got me a job at the nursing home she worked at as a dietary aide. Looking back, that was a really amazing experience...most of my contemporaries worked at Friendly's or The Gap, but I really learned a lot about life in those 2 years. I had a second job working as a receptionist, first at a driving school, and then at the nursing home.
5. What was your first car?
A Dodge 400 convertible that belonged to Aunt Diane. I loved that car. I particularly liked driving around on breezy summer nights with the top down, listening to Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here.
6. When did you go to your first funeral?
My grandfather died when I was 15. Although it wasn't unexpected - he had lung cancer - he went very quickly, and it was very sad.
7. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown?
I was 17, about a month shy of my 18th birthday when I went to college in Boston. Incidently, I went to the same college as my dad did, and I met my husband there.
8. Who was your first grade teacher?
Mrs Allen. She hated me. Seriously, hated me. She would snip at me at any opportunity. We had a reading area in our classroom that was furnished with milk crates. The kids used to turn them right-side-up and sit in them like buckets during reading time. When I did it, she walked over and hissed, "You are behaving inappropriately". It was reading time, so you know, the entire classroom heard.
9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane?
This is a little vague in my mind. I think it was a trip to Fort Lauderdale with my mom, my brothers, and Aunt Kelly to visit her husband's grandparents. I was about 10.
10. When you snuck out of your house for the first time, who was it with?
It was probably with Camy, Chris, and Pete. And it was probably to do something geeky like play Encore! or do a crossword puzzle.
11. Who was your first Best Friend and are you still friends?
Robin was my best friend in 5th grade. We were no longer really friends in middle school because we fell into different crowds. She had some problems in high school, and ended up falling a year behind...but I never knew why. I haven't seen her since high school.
12. Where was your first sleepover?
Lynn had a sleepover party when we were 6. I remember thinking that was the coolest thing.
13. Who is the first person you call when you have a problem?
14. Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid or groomsmen?
I was a bridesmaid in my friend Mandie's wedding. She got married about 6 months after I did. It was a really cool experience because both their families were so warm and welcoming, and although I attended alone because we couldn't afford a plane ticket for Alec, I had a really great time.
15. What is the first thing you do in the morning?
Either use the toilet or brush my teeth.
16. What was the first concert you ever went to?
I went to see Sting at the Hartford Civic Center with my friend Michelle when I was in 7th grade. She won the tickets on a radio station.
17. First tattoo or piercing?
I'm assuming ears don't count - but that was done when I was 5. Otherwise, I don't have any tattoos or piercings. The idea of getting either never appealed to me. I commented to a friend recently that it surprised me that after a 15 year hiatus from school, 18-year-olds are still tattooed and pierced. I would've figured that style would change.
18. First celebrity crush?
James Paul McCartney. And yes, I still swoon.
19. Age of first real kiss?
Oh, you know this already. Ira, when I was 12, thus establishing my type.
20. First crush?
Tommy. I had a major crush on him in 7th grade, and we were good friends through high school. He had a killer sense of humor and a really mysterious dark side I never fully understood. He's the only other person who ever called me Princess, though he certainly never meant it as a term of endearment. He taught me to laugh at myself, to appreciate the Boston Pops, and to enjoy slapstick humor. We were best friends through out high school, and whenever someone dumped me he'd declare "I always thought he was an a-hole!" Shortly after I moved in with Alec, he moved in with a guy. I still occasionally hear from him - he called me after he got married, and again after he got divorced.
21. First REAL love?
Chris. And wow did I love that boy. We dated for about a year, and most of it I was a junior in high school, and he a freshman in college. We broke up right before my junior prom, which was fitting since our first date was his senior prom. The girl he dated after me became his wife, and they came to our wedding. He found me on the internet shortly after they divorced, when I was working at the ISP. We got together for lunch. He still had the same long blond hair, but he was much different from the boy I knew as a teenager. He's a programmer and has published books about his flavor of programming.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Now, Poppy isn't the most patient man. I've heard him push her to speak properly or to mind her manners. His methods of doing so aren't my style - I think he can be a little harsh - but I don't disagree with the message. Certainly if she's staying at his house and he has a problem with her not saying please and thank you, as a 4 year old is apt to forget, he's entitled to point that out to her.
Today she said, "I don't want to see Poppy any more."
I replied quickly, "You've said that a few times now, Lauren. Please help me understand why."
She said, "He told me many times to shut up. He is very mean to me. The only person he is ever nice to is Nanny."
My brain began misfiring in about 10 directions. First off, it doesn't ring true of Morty. Like I said, he can be a little harsh in his grandparenting, but I've never personally experienced him being mean. Second of all, we recently had a conversation about a teacher at daycare saying shut up to someone. It got our attention...so maybe this is just a way to get attention?
Anyway, I replied, "That must have made you feel sad," because in my automatronic parenting brain I am supposed to arm her with language.
"Yes. It did make me feel sad."
"I'm sorry you felt sad. Thank you for telling me that."
Not quite a half hour later, I've turned on Pinky Dinky Doo, and I am feeding Lindsay. When she turns to me and says, "Let's play a game."
"Ok. We have time for a game before dinner. What do you want to play?"
Oh sweet Jesus. "Uh. I'm sorry, Lauren. I don't know how to play that game."
"Well, one person lies on the bed and pretends to be the patient, and the other pretends to be the doctor."
"Ok, and then what?"
She is laughing now. "Well, the person pretending to be the doctor has to examine the person pretending to be the patient."
"Does the doctor look in the patient's mouth?"
"Mama, this is only pretend!"
"Ok. But does the doctor look in the patient's mouth?"
"And in her nose?"
More laughing. "Yes!"
"And in her ears?"
"The doctor looks all over the patient's body."
"It's a pretend game." she says again, laughing.
"Well, ok." I said. "Who were you playing with?"
"And she was the doctor or the patient?"
"She was pretending to be the doctor, and I was pretending to be the patient..."
"Oh oh. Well that sounds fine, as long as if she looks somewhere that makes you uncomfortable you can tell her 'No' and you stop pretending. Or if you're pretending to be the doctor, and the person says 'No', you stop pretending."
Help me, folks. I am so parenting without a license.
Lindsay woke at 8, just as Lauren and I finished brushing our teeth and making the beds. When I picked up the cooing, gurgling Lin, she put her open hand on my shoulder - round, dimpled, and warm.
What a couple of cuties...
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Then Lauren gets out and gets jammied up. She brushes her teeth, and has her fluoride.
Depending on the time, we then read between 1 and 4 stories of Lauren's choosing. Since she recently received a dozen Dr Seuss books from Scholastic, often it's one of those. Tonight it was Eric Carle's The Grumpy Ladybug, then 2 Dr Seuss books: The Cat in the Hat and Horton Hears a Who.
By the time the Wickersham family were trying to rope up Horton and put him in a cage, both girls were snoozing. I finished the book and tucked Lindsay into her crib, then came back in to Lauren's room to turn off her light and on her fan. Besides the excitement with the 3 police cruisers, the fire chief, and one lone engine at our house, our day was pretty quiet, but apparently enough to tucker those girls right out.
I went into the kitchen to look for smoke, and realized it was the running dishwasher. I turned it off, grabbed my kids and my cellphone and stepped outside to call 911. Verizon emergency was much better at getting me connected to the local dispatch than either of our previous carriers, however, I did have the advantage of knowing what town I was in at the time and being able to provide a street address.
Three police cruisers arrived about 2 minutes after I was connected to their dispatch. The fire chief followed, but at that point, the police officers had located the smokey teabag and took it out of the house with a pair of kitchen tongs.
So the whole escapade took about 15 minutes and fortunately, none of my immediate neighbors were home so they didn't get to see the spectacle.
Monday, August 28, 2006
A lot of the mommy/infertility bloggers seem to be fodder for this site, probably because outside-looking-in the concept of mommyblogging is mind numbing. Reading about a woman going through her 20th round of invitro fertilization and her 15th pregnancy is at best heartbreaking. It certainly makes me wonder sometimes how these women continue to do it.
The site is, as advertised, so compelling you can't seem to stop reading it. But then, as Delphi aptly and often points out:
We aren't very nice people.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Isn't there another news story besides the one about Karr? There's got to be a hurricane, an election, or even a small plane crash...
Saturday, August 26, 2006
I learned how to register, and what courses comprise the general requirements. I felt pretty confident in the classes I'd preselected even without meeting with an academic advisor, and though a little daunted by the 120 credits needed to earn to graduate from University College or the newly merged School of Arts and Sciences depending on how I choose my credits.
After the registration workshop, I went to the basement of the Student Center to register for 2 courses. I learned I could drop the second without being charged until September 11, and it made more sense to do that then to try and register for a second course late. The tables in the dining area were packed with freshmen and transfer students, many with their parents, pouring over the course catalog and schedule of classes to form their request, only to wait in line to discover that all of the courses were closed. Since I had done some advance research, I registered in 5 minutes flat, and received my clearance to get my student ID.
I've been going back and forth about whether to take just the Saturday course, which is Psychology 101, or to take a second course on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, Intro to Art History. It's considerably more money, particularly when you factor in that it's a 7:40 PM class, so I will need Jessica to arrive at 7 so that I can take the Rutgers bus to the College Avenue campus since there aren't any parking spaces available on that campus. It puts considerably more pressure on me to balance the 2 courses, work, and the kids, particularly since Alec's travel schedule won't let up until late October.
But the other part of it is, I'm excited about this. I really want to take the 2 classes - the idea is exciting to me. I feel ready, which is amazing to me because I was still pretty unsure of what I was doing when I applied.
I finally got the beta template working. Fancy, eh?
Friday, August 25, 2006
But still when I hear those cries at 6 AM, like every morning, I get up and feed the little smiler. This morning, Lauren had snuck into our bed in the middle of the night, so I found her lying between us with one arm thrown over her toussled head. When Lindsay saw her sleeping sister, she squealed and waved her arms. The early morning reunion once Lauren woke up was very sweet.
"Goo goo be bada. Uh huh." said Lindsay, smiling.
"Hi, little sis. I love you." Lauren replied sleepily.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
My beautiful Lauren,
In the 1440 days we've shared together, my daughter, you have taught me more about determination than any other person in my life. I can be strong-willed and stubborn, yet it pales in comparison to you digging your heels in and insisting you're right. You're usually not, little girl, but some day you will be and I hope you know that same conviction then.
Today when we arrived at daycare, 4 of your friends were playing house. Linnea invited you to play while the others feigned sleep, and told you you had to be the baby. You tossed your head back, stamped your feet, and replied tersely, "Gawd, I am SO sick of this. I do not want to be the baby. Some one else has to be the baby."
How I admire you. When I was a little girl, I would've swallowed that lump in my throat and said, "OK, Linnea."
You're starting to piece together this crazy world we live in. That people and things die hasn't eluded you. When we were so worried about telling you about those little tetra in your fish tank that just didn't make the transition from the fish store to your little 10 gallon tank, you merely said, "Fish die". Today you asked me about my grandfather, and I told you he died when I was a teenager of lung cancer, you replied, "My Grandpa Arthur died too".
You're an amazing person, Lauren. I love you.
After a couple of days ruminating over a particularly annoying email from everyone's favorite stepmom-in-law, I finally managed to say no in a firm, but polite reply. I received a call from her today. She actually did not bring up the event in question that I said no to attending in a firm, but polite way, which was what I expected. But complained about the last line of the email where I refused to let Lauren stay at her house the weekend preceding my birthday because that was when we planned to celebrate as a family.
Says she, "I can't believe your stinkin' (not the actual word used) birthday is that weekend. And why your kids have to be there for it is just beyond me...and..."
"I was here first." I said simply.
"Well, there is no need to get snippy."
N-o spells no, I thought. But said, "No, you're right. I'm sorry if I seemed snippy."
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Woman, why do you insist on taking me everywhere you go?It made me think of poor little Lindsay, whose language consists exclusively of impressive babble, getting dragged around to the bank, the coffee shop, daycare, and the car dealership. She's becoming a bit more tolerant of the car these days, except when she's hungry or bored.
I spent a while trying to feed her a bottle today that I had made after she fell asleep at her 6 AM feeding. Bottles of milk can remain at room temperature for surprising amounts of time, often in the cool of the house for 10-12 hours. I was surprised she wasn't drinking it, and seemed to be fussing to nurse, which is a little backwards for Lindsay - usually she decides she doesn't want to work at nursing and demands the bottle. After we arrived home from dropping Lauren off at daycare, she was asleep, so I pumped and stashed that bottle in the fridge. She woke up about 20 minutes later, hungry. I realized after about 10 minutes feeding her that the bottle's nipple must've closed up. I switched it out and she drank the entire 4 ounce bottle in about 5 minutes flat. Wow. I am not very smart.
After she ate, I spent about 20 minutes trying to figure out her fussy, which seems to always be Please put me down and leave me alone now. I find this one hard because Lauren didn't have this particular fuss. When Alec called me on my way home from hanging out in the city with friends on Saturday because he had an inconsolable Lindsay, the first thing I asked was did he try putting her down and walking away. He seemed surprised at the suggestion. She's screaming her head off, and you put her down?? Not so surprisingly, he set her in the swing, she immediately found her thumb and fell asleep.
Monday, August 21, 2006
101. I got married on Saturday, June 1, 1996, at noon in Boston, MA.
103. When we found out we were expecting our 2nd child mid June 2006, we didn't plan a trip.
104. Our daughter Lindsay was born on Sunday, May 21, 2006.
105. When Lauren met Lindsay, her first comment was "When am I going to have a baby brother?"
106. She also told us she wanted to name her baby brother Grampie.
107. We began calling her Lauren in utero, when we found out she was a girl at 18 weeks.
173. The trip out to Hawaii was horrendous. Lauren had a stomach flu. About 24 hours before we traveled, she threw up for 8 hours, and then had diarrhea for 5 days.
At the pediatrician's office, I call the doctor Dr Lastname, and he calls me Mrs Stoll. This makes sense to me. But if he called me Heather, would I still be expected to call him Dr Lastname, or then do I call him Robert?
I wrote a short email to my daughter's principal. She had signed her letter "Nancy". I addressed mine "Dear Nancy" and finished it "Kind regards, Heather". Her first email started "Dear Heather" and concluded "Sincerely, Nancy". I had a question she couldn't answer without clearing it with the school board. Her second email was "Dear Mrs Stoll" and "Sincerely, Principal Lastname". Um wha? Does that simply mean she was now bcc-ing the school board and therefore it was an official correspondence?
It seemed backwards.
Reason Enough got a pretty major facelift. I'm sooo jealous.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
I survived the day out with friends in the City. I got to see Michelle's very lovely upper East side apartment, and then we ventured up to Sybil's in Inwood to learn how to make pillows from Rebecca. We drank sangria and dished, but pillows got made. Michelle and Sybil knitted. We had a delicious (if leisurely) dinner at The New Leaf Cafe in Fort Tryon Park, and I drove home. Perhaps a little too late, and a little too tired, but definitely talked out.
I felt those twinges of Mommy guilt over 12 whole hours away from my girls as we walked the mile or so from Sybil's apartment to New Leaf at 6 PM, Michelle realized her cell phone had several messages from her mom in progressive levels of panic throughout the day because Michelle hadn't returned her original call at 10 AM. Michelle said, "I am still out, Mom. I will call you when I get home later..." She rolled her eyes and explained, "If I don't talk to her the morning after I go out, she becomes convinced I didn't make it home. She says she was about to call the police."
Even when I first left home for college, my mom never called more than once a week. Fifteen years ago, most people didn't have cell phones, so she had no real expectation of being able to get a hold of me at any time of day. She didn't seem to worry about the worst happening if I was too busy over a few days to return a phone call when I was 18. Certainly by the time I was 25 and living in New York, even if she called my cell phone and I didn't answer it, she didn't get alarmed.
But if Marlene leaves a message on my cell phone at 6 PM, and I haven't returned it by 8 PM, she gets panicked and either calls back (and leaves a nearly hysterical message if I don't answer a second time), or she will call Alec and ask him if I'm okay. Now, most of you who know me understand my feeling about phones. Phones are MY tool. If I am too busy to answer the phone, I simply don't. If I am upstairs with the girls and leave the phone on the desk, if it rings, I let it go to voice mail. I don't drop what I'm doing to run for it. So, if you know my schedule, when alone with the girls, 6 PM is time to make dinner, 8 PM is bathtime, story, and then bed for Lauren. Despite the many times I've explained this to Marlene, if I don't return a message within a couple of hours, it is apparent to her certainly some sort of horrible accident has occurred and everyone is in the hospital.
I think I am more like my own mother who doesn't sit around imaging some sort of catastrophe, but even so, I said to Michelle, "If I ever tell you a story in 20 years about how I was about to call the police because Lauren didn't call me back, give me a shove."
Saturday, August 19, 2006
We've gone out for dinner a couple of times, and I've left her with Karen at least once. But that was just a couple of hours. Spending the entire day away from her admittedly makes me pretty anxious. The idea of being away from her overnight practically makes me hyperventilate.
I had this affliction with Lauren in the beginning, and I know it passes.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Thursday, August 17, 2006
My husband has been in Miami since Monday morning. This is just after having returned from a 3-day trip late last Thursday evening. It seems like he's never here and I miss him lots.
The photos from early in our relationship when we were poor students living in Boston. Vacations were always really sweet then though because his grandpa lived in Fort Lauderdale and would pay to fly us down there, and his mom was out on Martha's Vineyard and would pay for the bus fare and ferry. So at our poorest, back when we ate ramen noodles and macaroni (well, not together), and our big dates were grocery shopping at Star Market in the Pru and doing laundry at the laundromat at the corner of Newberry and Exeter Street, we wintered in Florida and summered on the Vineyard.
What a couple of brats we were!
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Oh, right. I'm not lucky.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Lindsay was up at about 10 minutes to 5 AM. CBS airs its evening news program from primetime at that hour, and then begins airing the early morning news at 5. Yes, Alec is away. Yes, as usual, the kids are on a sleep strike.
And then there was this news stories was about this terrible accident on the Jersey Turnpike yesterday involving several cars and an 18-wheeler hauling bricks. There were several people killed when the driver of the semi slammed on his brakes, struck the median and careened out of control into another truck, a sedan, and then an SUV. What caught my attention was the story of the Christmas family who were driving back from their vacation. Only 4-year-old Theresa survived the accident. Her parents were both killed instantly. Rescue workers struggled in vain to free her baby sister from her carseat.
I blinked back tears thinking about this little 4-year-old now alone in the world. Would she remember her parents? Her little sister? Her life before everything changed?
Although we talked to my brother Ben years ago about how we wanted him to take care of our then potential kids if something happened to us, we've never had a discussion since. It's just one of those details that you're just too busy to get to. Of course it's important to us that our girls would be with our families, and would maintain their relationships with their uncles, aunt, and grandparents.
I am glad I keep a blog...at least my girls would some day get to know my warped sense of humor and grimace over the silly stories I told about them. Something beyond the few pictures of me...something to connect to. Something to show them how very much I love them.
Those families are in my thoughts...
Monday, August 14, 2006
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Saturday, August 12, 2006
We managed to venture out early this morning to some garage sales, and then realized what we really need to do is have a garage sale, not buy stuff at one. So we both got our hair cut, and we came home and lugged all of our sellable stuff into the sun porch. We didn't manage to sort through our books yet or Lauren's toys, because it is the sort of task that after a couple of hours, you're completely exhausted.
We're trying to stay up long enough for Jess to arrive to watch Lindsay so we can enjoy our dinner at Nova Terra in New Brunswick. I'm glad we weren't planning dinner and a movie tonight, because I don't think we'd make it.
Lauren is due to return tomorrow morning at 11 AM.
Friday, August 11, 2006
As you know, Lindsay exclusively drinks milk. Sometimes she prefers to drink milk in a bottle. I usually don't offer the bottle first unless I've just fed her or just pumped. There is occasion when I just give her a bottle because it's less complicated than going somewhere I feel comfortable in a semi-disrobed state.
Inevitably someone asks whether I am supplementing with formula, and I will tell them I don't. The next question is always, well what's in the bottle?
At the pediatrician's office, on one of my tired, annoyed days I replied, "Peanut butter."
Peanut butter, for those who don't have school aged kids, is pretty much the napalm of the baby set. Karen will tell you that she quite often gets flyers sent home with her boys that Peanut butter kills! One day I was dropping Lauren off at daycare, and 3 of the workers were surrounding a 5-year-old boy who pulled a Kit Kat out of his pocket. They instructed him to drop it and kick it toward them, picked it up with long tongs and threw it away. They dragged the garbage can out to the curb.
Today I was asked what I'm going back to school to study. Considering that I am taking one or two classes this semester and have 2 years worth of classes before I get to declare a major, I haven't given it serious thought yet. So, I tried to explain this today to Alec's uncle who said, rather abruptly, "You really should have a plan before you go to school."
Well, really. Yeah, that worked so well for me last time.
I think I may start telling people my deep-seeded interest in forensics has led me to pursue a career in forensic pathology.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Today, Lauren held up a drawing on a pink sheet of paper with large circles drawn in green crayon.
"Is it a face?"
"No, Mommy. It's frogs."
"Oh, sure. Green frogs."
"Yep. Playing poker."
Finally today, after the megatantrum, I helped her get dressed. But I will admit, I was annoyed with the precious little urchin. I dressed her in matching clothes because I knew that would rile up her Virgo sense of style. When she gave me a dirty look for making her look like Barney the Dinosaur, I replied, "Well, maybe next time you'll get yourself dressed like I asked you to..."
"I can't get myself dressed, Mommy."
"You can so get yourself dressed, Lauren. But if you decide not to, I hope you like what you're wearing, because you'll be wearing it a very long time."
She wrinkled her nose.
"And it will start to smell..."
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
I've spent a while hiding my geekness. But really, I am a big geek. It is very difficult for me to go even a couple of hours without email or the Internet. There are plenty of times during even a casual conversation that I'll want to look up, for example, who sang a particular song I just heard on the radio that the afternoon deejay didn't announce but all I know is the lyric "haven't you heard of closing the damn door".
I don't have a considerable iTunes library. I've built a couple of them, and yet I only have about 600 songs. I haven't bothered loading most of my CD library into it because I have a pretty short attention span for music. I actually just got my own iShuffle - a gift from my brother and sister-in-law. It's made for people like me who get sick of music and have to reload their playlist on a weekly basis. I don't put it in the car because I have felt that if I didn't listen to the radio, I wouldn't get exposed to new music. Although my dad has his own method for dealing with that particular problem, I suffer a little bit of that GenX need for instant gratification.
Continental Airlines has been running a promotion that you receive 10 iTunes for every plane ticket you purchase. Alec flies weekly these days, so I've had several rounds of free iTunes. I use them to download stuff I like from the radio. My favorite band this week is called Panic! At the Disco, and the lyric above is from I Write Sins Not Tragedies.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
I try to curtail my R-rated language around my kids. I don't always succeed.
My parents almost never swore in my recollection. My mother's language only becomes colorful after a few drinks. She relished to tell the story wherein your heroine drove home from her job in the City with 2-year-old Lauren in tow yelling "Hafta potty! Hafta potty!". As soon as Lauren's feet hit the driveway, she piddled into her shoes. Looking down at the growing puddle, she muttered, exasperated, "Oh...shit."
Today, we walked to daycare hand in hand. Lindsay was asleep in the snugli. She recounted a story about how one of her teachers said a bad word and told a student to shut up.
"We know that's not a very nice thing to say," I replied.
"Right." Lauren said. "Which is why the next time she does it, I'm going to fuck her up."
Now, dear Internet, I will admit to dropping my fair share of F-bombs, but I can't even think of a single time I've used that particular expression. So the first thought I had was Good usage. Lauren says "telled" instead of "told" and "holded" instead of "held", but she hit this one solidly. Oh, right. I am supposed to be parenting. "That isn't a good thing to say either," I said. "It isn't polite."
"Oh. Ok, Mom."
Here's where we usually have a conversation about what we say politely instead. As for the first example where it is impolite to tell someone to shut up, we might politely as them to be quiet, please. I said, "In that situation, rather than messing her up," I didn't repeat the offending word here, "you might remind her to ask someone nicely to be quiet."
"That's a good idea, Mom."
Monday, August 07, 2006
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Alec, my brother James, and James' friend Brian enjoying the Yuka-Yuka. A bottle of Kettle One infused with several lemons and limes and left to ferment overnight with a half box of sugar. The resulting lemontini was passed and enjoyed, and Yuka-Yuka-Yuka chanted as the mix was shaken vigorously. It's Alec's turn in this shot.
Lauren playing Hide-and-Seek with G
My sister Juliana and Claire's brother Neil
Saturday, August 05, 2006
I had so much tequila that:
- I don't remember anything about the movie we started watching;
- I don't remember making love with my husband on the couch;
- I don't remember how we got upstairs;
- I woke up naked on the bathroom floor with a towel thrown over me;
- I read my father's blog in the morning and discovered that I'd misreported the date of my own birthday
Not only did I misreport the date of my own birthday to my father, but I accused my husband of having done it.
It's really bad enough to have gotten drunk enough to forget an entire evening and my own birthday, but to do it the eve of a family gathering where the story will be repeated about a dozen times is just careless. I may never live it down.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Yeah, I have NO idea what I was thinking. Oh, right.
- The baby can sleep hours in her snugli.
- Lauren really loves the movies.
- We've been cooped up in the house all week with staggering heat.
This particular movie theater has this Granny-looking character who scolds you about not putting your feet on the seats, turning off your cellphone, and not talking during the movie. Her voice is loud and booming. Pretty much she started talking, and Lindsay started screaming.
I grab Lindsay's bottle and try to feed her, which lasts into the credits of the movie. But as soon as the theater gets loud with sounds of the movie, she starts screaming again. I warn Lauren that we may have to leave if Lindsay doesn't quiet, and start gathering our stuff. Lauren begins to throw the Mother Of All Tantrums. I abandon the Milk Duds and water and manage to move both screaming girls to the front of the theater, so I can walk back and forth with Lindsay to calm her, and Lauren can still see me. This lasts maybe 3 minutes before Lauren is also in the middle of the aisle screaming.
"I want to go hooo-ome." she says tearfully, grasping her bag of popcorn tightly.
"Okay." I am defeated.
We leave the theater. Lauren is sniffling. Lindsay is sleeping. My wallet is $25 dollars lighter after the tickets and consessions.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Occasionally I would like a number to call up, say, when I can't open a jar of pasta sauce or to kill a spider or um, RIGHT NOW when there's that smell of death in the basement. OH MY GOD. I totally don't think I can deal with finding whatever is causing the DEAD SMELL.
Yeah. I thought not.
My patience worn entirely thin is most difficult on Lauren. A near miss in the bathtub had me yelling at her in tears. We recovered enough to end the evening with a cuddle session on the bed in our jammies during storytime during which she offered a heartwrenching I love you to her baby sister who she
So this morning, Lindsay is the only one dressed at 11:30 AM, which is symbolic of my personal failures. There's a load of laundry spinning in the wash, 2 bags of garbage and recycling by the door to go out, and a box of brownies to be made for tonight's potluck at the daycare center. Gotta go grab a shower too, because I will find myself astride the stirrups at my doctor's office in 105 degree weather this afternoon.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
The daycare is in a converted house about the same vintage as ours. There are 3 rooms downstairs converted into a single classroom with a galley kitchen for the two- and three-year-olds, and up a very steep flight of stairs, three bedrooms have been converted into a classroom and a kitchen for the four- and five-year-olds. Lauren plays with the older kids.
Alec walked her upstairs and got her situated at the large craft table they have with those miniature chairs around it. She began drawing a picture for him."I had to get out of there," Alec told me as he recounted the story. "Those girls are meeeean!"
"See, Daddy? I drew a beautiful picture." said Lauren.
"Yep, that is beautiful."
"No, it's not," offered one of her classmates.
"Well, that is your opinion," Alec said. "I think Lauren's picture is beautiful. And yours is very nice too."
"No it's not, " retorted Lauren.