Happy Halloween

Magenta and Blue

How much fun is it when you discover a good friend is wearing a costume that compliments yours? Lauren dressed as Blue, and her friend Christina dressed as Magenta - both of Blue's Clues fame, pictured above before school this afternoon.

Mommy with Tiger Cub

Lindsay dressed up as a tiger for Lauren's Halloween party at school. It was a good time - we made frames out of popsicle sticks, decorated cookies, and played games such as pin the nose on the jack-o-lantern, boney bowling, and Halloween Twister.

Cinderella and Blue play pin the nose on the jack-o-lantern

Two Princesses in a bowling competition

Blue and someone's little brother playing Twister

The girls

Wearing their sister t-shirts: one big and one little

Prepared

Lauren is preparing for Halloween. There is a costume party tomorrow at school. And then there will be Trick-or-Treating. And candy. Lots and lots of candy.

Alec expressed some concern last year when I didn't make rules about how many pieces of candy she could have after getting her loot. I feel that part of The Halloween Experience is eating entirely too much candy. I always felt a little sad when after three hours of going door-to-door we'd get home to Mom's declaration of "Just 3 pieces, kids".

And someone always ate all of the Reese's Peanut Butter cups.

300

This is the 300th post to Abandon Hope. I've already shared 200 things about me. I'm not sure I'm much more complex than that. So I thought it would be more revealing to share with you a hundred things I'd learned from my dad. If you don't read his blog, you should check it out. It's effin' hilarious. Ohmygosh - this was supposed to be something NICE. Yeah, well I've gone and ruined that already. Before I say something else stupid, here are 100 things I learned from my dad:

Dad and Lindsay, August 2006

1. To keep my eye on the ball.
2. Honesty is the best policy.
3. Except when it isn't.
4. To distinguish right from wrong.
5. That there's a lot of gray area in life.
6. Sometimes good people do bad things, and that doesn't necessarily make them bad.
7. Sometimes bad things happen anyway.
8. To ask for it "Medium Rare".
9. To order it "very dry on the rocks with an olive".
10. That olives out of a vodka martini are very tasty.
11. That two wrongs don't make a right.
12. Don't put it in your nose.
13. Don't put it up your brother's nose.
14. And certainly don't eat things that came out of your nose.
15. Or (JESUS CHRIST!) your brother's nose either.
16. How to play PIG.
17. How to play HORSE.
18. That HORSE is just a long version of PIG.
19. That I was never going to play professional basketball.
20. How to back in to a parking space for my driver's test.
21. How to look up words in the dictionary.
22. How to properly hold a fork.
23. To chew with my mouth closed.
24. Not to wiggle in my chair with my fork in hand.
25. Not to run with scissors.
26. To enjoy escargot.
27. How not to mortify Gramma while dining out at "her club".
28. To be a ham.
29. How to eat a lobster.
30. That my napkin belongs in my lap.
31. How to do the crawl stroke.
32. How to play Monkey in the Middle.
33. That the game was more fun when you're NOT the monkey.
34. To be able to name any Beatles song ever recorded just by listening to the opening 5 chords.
35. Not to do something simply because I can.
36. Different people like different things.
37. Ninety-five percent of the people you encounter are assholes.
38. That we're part of the other 5 percent (most of the time).
39. Sometimes the best laughs you have are at your own expense.
40. Particularly when you've forgotten your own birthday.
41. All the words to Don McLean's American Pie.
42. My multiplication tables.
43. How to ride a bicycle.
44. Not to ask someone to do something I was not willing to do myself.
45. To always end a conversation with "I love you".
46. That respect is something you earn.
47. That it's possible to have faith and to be a good person without belonging to or attending church.
48. That there are 3 sides to every story: mine, his, and The Truth.
49. That it's possible to forgive someone without forgetting her transgression.
50. That a firm, strong handshake is important.
51. The difference between a Phillip's head and flathead screwdriver.
52. To love Casablanca.
53. Not to say "I can't", or "I'll try", instead to say "I will".
54. That anything worth doing is worth doing well.
55. That truth is stranger than fiction.
56. That even a truly mundane experience can later make a funny story.
57. That it's a good idea to have a back up plan.
58. How to ice skate.
59. Not to be the first person out onto the ice.
60. That making people laugh is a good ice breaker.
61. To love music.
62. To listen to different types of music, whether or not you think you like the genre. You're usually surprised.
63. To be comfortable on stage.
64. How to make hospital corners.
65. How to operate the washing machine and dryer.
66. To learn from mistakes, but not to dwell on them.
67. To accept responsibility for my actions.
68. To graciously accept praise.
69. That a good sense of humor can carry you through many unpleasant situations.
70. That it's best not to play favorites.
71. A drink won't fix it, but it won't hurt either.
72. Not to date famous rockstars in their 60s.
73. Even if they have a lot of money.
74. That persistence sometimes pays off.
75. That sometimes it's better NOT to try to fix it yourself.
76. That "texting" someone is just dumb.
77. To appreciate Alan Alda's sense of humor.
78. That in every generation, there was a "right" way to do something that we now look back on wondering what the hell people were thinking.
79. To respect your mom even if she is a crazy nutball sometimes.
80. How to keep a scorecard at a baseball game.
81. To order it with hot fudge, whipped cream, salted nuts, and a cherry.
82. To be patient.
83. That being patient isn't always the correct response.
84. How to memorize a script.
85. That the spinning rides at the amusement park were a lot of fun, and more so before eating.
86. To like pistachios.
87. To appreciate the relationships I have with my siblings.
88. To listen without judging.
89. You can't lose if you don't play.
90. Never get into a fight with an ugly person.
91. Never argue with crazy people.
92. Always wear clean underwear in case you get hit by a bus.
93. Sometimes it's really funny to state the obvious.
94. Parsimony.
95. That if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.
96. To wait for a better offer.
97. That tough love has its place, and so does telling someone what they need/want to hear.
98. That making my bed and keeping my room clean were a good start.
99. That if you can't knock 'em dead, at least leave 'em laughing.
100. To live well, to love completely, and to never regret anything.

I love you, Dad. Hope you like the list. (Or at least laughed at it.)

Anyone?!

We attended my stepbrother-in-law's (meaning: my husband's stepbrother's) engagement party this afternoon. It was too long, too loud, and too much sitting. But besides that...

At one point, my SBIL got up on the bar and started dancing to Shakira's Hips Don't Lie. I thought this was an odd choice at a family event, but y'know...whatevah. It was when they put my 4-year-old on the bar to dance that I got a little freaked out.

God, these people really BUG me. Do I honestly have to say "I'd really prefer if at family functions, you don't make my daughters dance on the bar."

Announcement

If you read Dad's blog, you already know about November 7th. If you don't, go visit Mimi Writes. Mimi's brainchild is for bloggers to post on November 7th with the title Dona Nobis Pacem - which means give us peace. You know, because it's time.

Torn

Professor NotBatman was out of town last week. I know very little about him - he studies the effects of Parkinson's Disease and heroin addiction on the brain, has 7 children, and always wears Rutgers t-shirts. The last fact is a bit of a disconnect in a 40-something man - but I suppose he's either teaching undergrad students or in his lab. He said while he was traveling last week, people often approached him in airports to comment about our football team, and that this was a different, but positive experience. He also said, with a broad grin on his face, that donors like when a university has a good football team and that it "should be a good year" for funding. I was a little puzzled by his comment. After all, we're in pharma alley. His lab is probably very well funded regardless of whether the pigskin is thrown with precision.

Rutgers is playing UConn today. Go Scarlet Knights!

The schedule of classes has been posted for spring semester, so I am trying to decide what class I will take. I haven't decided what my major is yet, so I am trying to get a good start towards my core classes. My hope is that once Lauren is in school all day, and Lindsay is around 18 months old, I will be able to go to school full-time.

And the sky cleared

The Nor'easter over Jersey cleared today long enough for pumpkin picking and a pony ride. We carved 2 pumpkins. Mine has 3 eyes. He's an alien. I didn't know Lauren knew about aliens.

If you're in Central Jersey, definitely check out Giamarese Farm in Milltown. It's been part of autumn tradition for the past 3 years. They have a hayride around the farm, tractor-driven and narrated by Farmer Jim. It's $2 per person to ride, and $4 for the kids to have a ponyride on Snowball or Midnight. The farmstore boasts at least a dozen different types of home-grown apples, squash, and greens. They have different fruit butters, local honey, and of course, acres and acres of pumpkins. They also have a corn maze, if you've got older kids than mine. We haven't done that yet - maybe next year.

Just 2 more days until Hallowe'en!

Pumpkins

Alec saw that It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown was on tonight, so all four of us climbed into our bed (since it was technically the girls' bedtime) to watch it. It was funnier than I remember, probably because at this point, it's very dated. Lauren thought it was OK. Lindsay was more interested in staring at Daddy and having her bedtime snack.

I haven't done the side-by-side comparison view in some time. I realize they are looking a little less alike these days.

Lauren at 5 months, March 2003

Lindsay at 5 months, October 2006

Oh sweet relief

It's been a long week, my friends. Today was the worst day. The irony is that nothing happened. I'd just hit my cumulative limit of changing the Universe's poopy diapers, and sent my hubby an IM around 2 PM today:

Would you please come home?

His reply:

Uh. In the middle. I'll leave as soon as I get (whatever component of a project he's working on) done...mmmkay?

Alec got home around 5:30 PM after we'd sent out Lauren's school pictures to all the grandparents. Lauren drew little pictures for everyone, mostly the wrong number of family members with a very frowny Mommy stick figure. We played iTunes Very Loud and sang into a pair of matching mini Maglites.

Don't cry to me
If you loved me
You would be here with me
You want me
Confine me
Make up your mind

That's the song we sang. You may recognize it's Call Me When Your Sober by Evanescence. I have no idea what Lauren thinks the lyrics mean.

Alec came home and kicked my ass. Well, not literally. But I needed a good kick in the ass. I feel much better now.

Making of a hero

While we ate dinner this evening, Lauren recited "Five Little Pumpkins" as Lindsay looks on admiringly. Note the black cat plate and pumpkin bib - Hallowe'en is upon us Chez Stoll. Lindsay was in the middle of eating squash when Lauren began her performance. Lauren was struck silly by Lindsay's amusement with the end of her poem.

We made pumpkins and bats as our art project, and decorated them with stickers sent by G. We also received a spooky I Spy book in the mail from G today. We enjoyed that at storytime with Daddy.

Learning puppy

I'm not sure who likes singing, game-playing Learning Puppy more. Lindsay's too little to make him work except by accident, so it's kind of fun to have an older sibling who can make things work.

Not just navel gazing

I've got some "'splainin' to do" as Ricky Riccardo used to say. I will address this comment from Lisa:

Listen, all around me, people are being diagnosed with cancer. It's extremely unsettling so if you could maybe have some daily thoughts on rainbows and unicorns and balloons or something instead that would be great...

I'm sorry you're dealing with that. It's crappy. My husband's family had several losses in the past year to cancer.

I've been struggling a lot lately with news about my sister. It is to the point I just can't listen anymore because it feels like someone's going through all the happy parts of my life with dull scissors and messing with all these nice memories I have and shredding them. But, wait, there's more! I look at my own 2 daughters and realize that I can't protect them either. So I alternate crying my eyes out and being violently angry at "people who hurt her". As though that makes the situation less awful.

In the middle of this, well-intended I'm sure, my mother sent me pictures she'd taken from her visit out northwest. Really, it was just beyond depressing to look at them. My sister is a 21-year-old woman in a 11-year-old girl's body. Except her hair is falling out. And she has a tube in her nose.

I kept the pictures and the note on my desk a couple of days. Today I put them in the mail to Dad. I don't know if he will want to look at them. But I can't keep them. And I can't throw them out. I guess at least now he knows they are coming and he can choose to look at them or not.

I've felt really stuck these past few days, and probably pretty depressing to be around. I work hard to keep things light with the girls, but well, sometimes you get to see me hang out in my ratty sweatpants here...and Saturday, that was where I was at. Hopefully tomorrow, I will begin to feel a little less like life just pooped on me.

Post or die

I'm participating in NaBloPoMo in November. I'm hoping to win a new, custom-designed banner for my blog. So tag, you're it...y'all who want to be tagged in to participate...

Thought for the day

If I ever get ill, I don't want any photographs to document it. If I get better, I'm not going to want to look back on it and remember...and if I don't, I wouldn't want to be remembered that way.

Seamus, the very pissed off cat

I'm just about at the end of my rope with the cat.

Alec's travel schedule picked up toward the end of my pregnancy with Lindsay, and became weekly once she was about 2 weeks old. None of us likes that he travels several days a week, but Seamus has taken it the hardest.

He was occasionally peeing on the floor right after I had Lindsay. It seemed to happen when the litterbox needed to be changed. Lindsay got a bit bigger, and I was able to take care of changing it more often. But it seemed that every time I would change the box, he would immediately pee on the floor.

It is happening on a daily basis even though I change the box once every few days. Today, I have gone into the bathroom to find the floor wet 3 times.

Alec keeps pointing out that I haven't caught him doing it.

When Alec went away on Monday, the cat went down to the basement. He didn't come up the entire time Alec was gone, even though the door was open. He wet the floor at the foot of the basement stairs...but the floor in the bathroom remained dry.

What to do about the cat? I am considering moving him down into the basement and setting up a litterbox and food down there for him. He may or may not actually use the box. I'm not all that thrilled at the basement stinking of cat urine all the time.

I've really grown to dislike him, and I feel horrible about that. He was our adored pet.

Enough already

I finished a project this week that I've been working on since April. There's a day or so to sigh in relief that it's finally DONE, but then it's time to move on and work on something else. I wrote a proposal for a site a few weeks ago. I worked hard on the proposal, and I think it was pretty well put together. I was trying not to push too hard, but I was looking forward to getting started on it. I found out today the work was awarded to another company.

I had to take both girls to the doctor today. Lindsay had her 5 month check-up. Lauren had to have yet another vaccination. It was with Dr Queen of Sheba, so y'know, she annoys me. She said I shouldn't be feeding Lindsay cereal more than twice per day, but I can feed her whatever she'll eat - up to 1/2 cup of cereal per day. Currently, I feed Lin 2 tablespoons of cereal plus 1 teaspoon of something else (fruit or vegetables) when we sit down for a meal, and she nurses on demand - which is usually every 2-3 hours during the day. The doctor said that Lindsay weight has fallen from the 10th to the 5th percentile. "This isn't a very big concern, but we want to make sure she is eating enough". Lauren's height and weight have always been in the 5th percentile, so I don't really agree that this is remarkable. Really, I hate that it seems no matter what you say, they find fault and correct you. Lindsay gained more than a pound. I'm NOT doing anything wrong...I'm just doing 3 smaller meals instead of 2 larger ones. She's nursing 4-5 times a day - so she's still getting the majority of her calories from milk. After that ridiculousness, I got to hold both of my screaming children down while they got vaccinated.

After I dropped Lauren off at school, I read my email. There was a note from a headhunter that I'd talked to about 15 months ago. We had a few conversations, the jobs she had at the time weren't the right fit - too far a commute, not enough money, etc. She wrote asking what I was up to and mentioned that she has a medical communications company in Bridgewater looking for someone with my qualifications and she'd be happy to set up an interview if I wanted.

Well, I thought. Maybe this is a sign. Maybe it is time for me to accept that the business isn't working out as I'd hoped, we've accrued some debt, and it's time to get back to having a steady second income, hire a nanny, and I should go back to work.

I thought about this unnamed nanny person...probably someone recently emigrated from another country dropping Lauren off at school at 12:30, meeting Lauren's bus, feeding Lin cereal, and listening to her babble and laugh. And I just lost it. Lindsay was eating at the time, stopped, and looked up at me. She studied my face carefully for a few seconds before she started laughing.

You're being a dummy. Everything you want is right here.

Watching television together

You'd almost think they like hanging out together. We're watching Little Bear. This was after a long walk in the gorgeous Indian Summer weather. We have been relishing these last warm days before the days get frosty and short.

We painted the "not pumpkins" today. They look like miniature pumpkins, but they're actually a gourd. I painted a face on mine, and Lauren painted polka dots. Lindsay watched and knocked each of her toys off the table one at a time.

The girls

Lauren and Lindsay, October 2006

Hello, my friend...or Overheard in the PM Pre-K line

"Hello, my friend Natalie!"

"Hi, Lauren."

"Mom, this is my friend Natalie. Natalie, this is my mom. You can call her Mrs Stoll."

"Hi, Natalie." I said, cheerfully.

"Hi, Mrs Stoll." Natalie says, standing in front of Lindsay in her snugli. "Hi, baby!"

"My dad calls my mom Heather. But I get to call her Mommy."

"Heather," Natalie says dreamily, "is a pretty name."

"Thank you, Natalie. You have a pretty name also."

The reading project

Lauren is learning to write her letters. She can, in fact, now write her own name. Some of her letters are reversed, and she usually can't write it on one line...but pretty neat stuff.

Today, Lauren's teacher sent home a book. Every week, on Mondays, she will send a book that we must return on Thursdays in order to get a new one.

The note accompanying the book said "Please make sure to discuss the cover, title, and author with your child. Also, let your child turn the pages". So I lay the book in my lap, and said, "Tell me what we have to talk about on the cover..."

"Well," she said, thoughtfully, sitting beside me. "Tell me who the authors and illustrators are."

I did.

"Okay. Now you have to read the title."

I did.

"As we read the book, you're supposed to point out the exclaimation points. And then, ask me what happens next..."

Wow. This reading thing is tricky.

Our reading time ended tonight with The Cat in the Hat. This book was written and illustrated by Dr Seuss. She grinned. Oh, how we adore procedure...

Go forth and buy yarn

After yesterday's post, I'm going to be ironic and post an ad...
My friend Sybil's site launched just around 2 PM today, an online yarn store. Flock ye knitters! Stock up on yarn.

No more RSS feed

I'm pretty upset that 185 of my posts are being used to generate Google Ad revenue for someone else. I'm exercising the small amount of power I can. I am shutting down my feed. If you want to read my blog, you can come to me.

My content belongs to me. I am taking my marbles and going home.

Truly geekish

Ok, so this is terribly geekish of me...but I almost fell off my chair when I looked at the online gradebook today...
I got AN A! Ohmygosh, can you believe it?! An A on my first exam!

Redacted

Ok, the matching dresses are pretty cute...and this picture is a good example of why it's fun to have girls. Don't you love the dress over jeans look? Lindsay helping big sis with her shoes. Ten dollars says this picture is blown up at Lauren's wedding...

Mama and Lin

Here we are, about to head out and get Lauren at the bus stop. I guess she does kind of look like me these days.

Very glad tomorrow is Friday. It's been a long week.

While it is nice that Nanny buys the girls clothes, the buying fancy dresses to wear to parties thing is getting a little tiresome. Today, she called to announce she'd bought matching black velvet party dresses for an upcoming family event in New York City. What do you suppose the chances are that we'll make it the hour drive into the city without Lindsay spitting or expectorating of some sort on the dress? I'm also starting to feel like perhaps I can't be trusted to, you know, dress my kids for an occasion.

And, yeah, I know they wear a lot of Hallowe'en stuff. What fun is October if you can't wear spooky pajamas? Even if you are too young to know what they are...

Lauren riding Snowball

Lauren, October 2006

Lauren had a pony ride on Sunday when we visited Giamarese Farm. We've been there several times over the past 3 years for the autumnal hayrides, pumpkin picking, and great farmstand.

Voracious little eater

Alec feeding Lindsay, October 2006

"I want to do it myself!"

Musings

There seems to be a lot of depression running through the blogs I read. Tertia, a South African mama to twins mused with her therapist about how many snowflakes it takes to break a branch. The answer, of course, is one. The last one. Even Dooce's Monthly Newsletter which is ordinarily a sweet little letter she writes to her not quite 3-year-old daughter apologized that her depression is a part of young Leta's life. It's hard to read. It really knocks the wind out of you.

The notecard my mom sent was about not inventing things to worry about. I've been thinking about that. Certainly amidst sleep deprivation, the seemingly constant schoolborne virus, and spending an increased amount of time as a single parent I am feeling a little worn and sometimes I make chickenpox out of mosquito bites. Reflecting on my workload these days, it isn't surprising that I occasionally worry over nothing. It's not as though it's making me lose sleep. (Insert hollow laugh here).

Mostly though, I am enjoying my adorable daughters. I make a point of trying to find a fun thing us 3 can share everyday and I experience bliss on a daily basis. I am also feeling stressed about money, school, and work, and I alternate between feeling sad and angry about my sister. But it strikes me that I am definitely not feeling depressed. And that's...nice.

Letters in the Mail

I received 2 letters today. Well, yesterday. I forgot to check the mailbox yesterday.

The first was a thank you note from my mom. I send her pictures whenever I upload to Snapfish because I think she probably has no idea how to get there. She wrote that she misses me.

The second letter was from my sister. It was a really odd letter. It was typewritten and stuffed into a pink envelope which she'd written my address on in faint pencil. It had apparently bounced around the post office a while because there were 2 different handwritings on it with my house number and street name.

I sent my sister a letter every 2 or 3 days her first stay. I never received a response.

I have less time now, so I've been trying to write a short note once a week, which I send with 4 pictures of the girls. I didn't expect to receive a response. That is not to say that it didn't bother me that I didn't last time, it did. I try to remember through all of this that it's just not about me.

It strikes me about my sister that beyond having this disease that she struggles with, she's really very young. The language in the note reminded me of being 16. She's annoyed they are cutting their number of cigarette breaks and caffeinated beverages. She wrote that Mom and Paul are going out to visit her "to do therapy and stuff". "Hopefully they will take me shopping!"

I'm disappointed. I don't even know why. I don't know what I expected, but it was something different.

Lessons in Spanish

Today, we went to Target to buy Lindsay a Bumbo seat, simply because Cecily from Wasted Birth Control has one for Tori. It's a great little chair, and perfect for our cereal experiment today.

There's a Starbucks inside the Target on Route 529 in Piscataway, and we always stop for a little treat afterwards. I ordered a grande iced coffee with a shot of hazelnut syrup, and Lauren chose a vanilla milk for herself.

"A grande coffee?" Lauren asked. "Is that what you ordered?"

"Yep."

"That makes sense." Lauren said. "You are grande and I am pequeño."

"Right! Good job speaking Spanish."

"Oh, I know, Mom."

The cereal experiment was great fun during dinner. Lauren and I had chicken stirfry with fresh veggies and ramen in a lemon zest ginger soy sauce, and Lindsay had a scant teaspoon of single grain barley cereal in about an ounce of milk. She ate voraciously, at times trying to take the spoon out of my hand and do it herself...and at the end she was looking for more.

The girls

Lauren and Lindsay, October 2006

This post brought to you by Auntie Helen

When I was a kid, we used to look forward to Auntie Helen's visits. Helen is actually my great aunt, my grandmother's sister. She would stay with Gramma Jean for some weeks in the summer, and then head back home to New York City.

She taught us to play Gin Rummy, her Viceroy cigarette dangled from her lips as she spoke. She was one of the few adults who would indulge us for hours playing games with us in Gramma's pool. She wore a white bathing cap strapped under her chin not to spoil her always very blonde hair.

There was a game we'd play in the pool, she'd bounce us on a knee and sort of sing/howl:

Ponygirl ponygirl
Wontcha be my ponygirl
Giddyup whoa, don't say no
Come and ride with me
Giddyup giddyup giddyup whoa!
Come be my ponygirl

A quick Google search reveals these aren't actually the lyrics, but that's what she sang.

Every night, the girls and I get into the bath together. I started the tradition when my pregnant belly prohibited my leaning over our large porcelain tub. Now, Lindsay gets bathed first, then Lauren. When it's time for me to take Lin out, we sing the Ponygirl song to her. We sing very out of tune. She giggles and splashes.

It's not you, it's me

I've noticed how drastically our little world has changed since Lauren started Pre-K just a month ago. We can no longer go out around good old Highland Park anonymously. Wherever we go, we run into some parent and small child combination we now recognize or who recognizes us. I am particularly familiar because of my symbiont beaming at everyone from her snugli.

I'm fairly awkward meeting people. I don't think I am antisocial, I just don't really enjoy making small talk. This gets exponentially worse if I am tired. If I am tired, and we haven't met, I just don't want to talk. And I really don't want to have to work hard on a conversation. I appreciate you are making a tremendous effort to try to speak to me in a language you don't entirely grasp, but for me to try and help complete your ideas when I am bleary-eyed is just too much for me to take.

The moms at the park today who tried to talk to me were Asian. The first mom approached me as Lauren ran up to the swings and I tried to keep up with her and get Lindsay into the snugli. This mom was also wearing a snugli with an in-facing baby. Lindsay faces out.

"How old is baby?"

"Four months." I replied trying to fix Lindsay's shirt which had bunched up around her armpits.

"Four mons? Ohh. And other datter?"

"She's 4."

"Mommy. Mommy. Mommy! Hellllooo? Are you going to help me get into the swing?"

Embarassed smile, tend to Lauren.

Another young Asian girl arrives with her mom. Lauren points her out, "She is in my school."

They parallel play a bit. Lauren chatters incessantly, the girl from school says nothing. They climb for a while, and then settle next to each other in swings. It is the regular, bench sort of swing which is nearly impossible for me to push wearing a snugli.

"How old?" Asian mom #2 asks pointing at Lauren.

"Lauren is 4." I reply.

"She is, too." she says pointing at her daughter. I mistake this to mean she is 2.

"Oh." I smile.

"She go to Pre-K?" Points to Lauren.

"Yep."

"She too." Points to daughter.

"Oh nice." I say. She is, too.

"She in Brown class?"

"Lauren is in Ms Murphy's class," I reply.

This is the point where Lauren tries to interject and involve the girl from school and her mom in a conversation about how tomorrow is white day, and today was black day. And she is wearing her black shirt with a glowy bat and mummy on it. It's hard to understand other people's kids, so Asian mom #2 just stared at Lauren, not understanding.

"She's talking about the color days. Is Ms Brown having her class wear a different color every day?"

"Yes?"

"Mommy, you have to push me now."

I smile apologetically at Asian mom #2.

I was relieved to get shamed into giving up Lauren's swing by a waiting child so we could get out of there.

Morning announcements

"Mommy, this is called zydeco music," she said, pointing at the Sesame Street gang decked out in their cowboy hats.

"Sure is."

"Do we like that?"

"Sure, zydeco music is kind of fun. Daddy likes the accordion."

I am happily feeling refreshed this morning after Lindsay ate every 20 minutes from 8:30 until 10:30 PM, and which point she fell asleep. I snuck upstairs at 11, figuring I ought to catch a couple hours of sleep before the next session. Miraculously, it didn't happen until six blessed thirty. Lauren padded in with Turtle and Elephant (all of the stuffies from her babyhood have utilitarian names). When I lifted her bangs to examine her forehead, they still look like mosquito bites, so I'm going to assume that's what they are.

Every day the past 2 weeks has been "wear a color" day at school as the kids are learning about primary colors and how they blend to create other colors. Thanks to Lars, Lauren is the only girl who had appropriately colored clothes on orange day (Tuesday) and black day (today). She announced yesterday that Ms Murphy helped her write her name because she knows how to spell it L-A-U-R-E-N. She was pleased to graduate from "making her own L".

Which came first

I am holding my breath hoping that Lindsay will finally sleep, which has happened today twice moments before I had to leave to drop Lauren off for school and then pick her up from the bus stop. She was up last night at 1, 2, 3:15, and then from 6 on. I am very exhausted.

Lauren had a doctor's appointment to take a flu shot today. During the pre-shot exam, the doctor, a new partner just a couple of years out of medical school pointed out 4 bumps on Lauren's forehead. I described her reaction to dustmite bites, and we decided that they were small hives. During dinner, I realized they hadn't faded, which isn't her typical reaction to mite bites. Usually, the hives fade within the hour.

When I gave Lauren a bath tonight, I noted 2 more bumps on the back of her neck. I rechecked the ProQuad package information and in fact you can develop chicken pox from the vaccine. But these don't have the blister-like quality a Google search yields, they look more like two clusters of mosquito bites. I doted them with calamine lotion for good measure. I guess I will see in the morning if there are more of them, and if they have changed.

Nice surprises

Alec stayed home to "give me an extra day to nurse my cold" and made me an appointment at the Aqua Pearl Day Spa in Metuchen. There was a beautiful spa I've been to a couple of times in SoHo, and this place wasn't quite as luxe, but it was very nice. I enjoyed a Swedish massage, a manicure, and a pedicure. I arrived about 20 minutes early and enjoyed a cup of chamomile tea while wrapped in a white terry robe and slippers.

As with every Fisher story, I had the requisite "can this get any weirder" time with my nail technician who seemed a little unclear that I was actually a client and not training to be a nail technician myself. She extolled the process of cleaning and disinfecting all the equipment, the proper way to deal with cuticles, and showed me (on her nail) how to paint designs. I never doubted there was probably a tremendous amount to remember in that position, but her monologue confirmed it. I also have no idea how you spend a 10 hour day folded in half over someone else's feet. The weirdest moment was when she decided aloud not to use peppermint-scented scrub on my feet because "it might be too stimulating". You know. For the milk.

Ohh. Right. For the milk.

The short pass

I've been feeling a bit under the weather the past week. Since about 8 years ago whenever my stress levels rise, my jaw locks on my left side. When this first started happening, I had a doc who would write me prescriptions for muscle relaxants. I haven't had a regular doctor in a few years. The amount of Advil it takes to take the edge off of the pain is pretty staggering.

On top of the stress pain, I've caught the nasty cold Lindsay had last week and have been expectorating in every direction. It has been keeping me up and waking me up. With the puny amount of sleep I'm getting, more problems sleeping are just plain painful.

I know, I know. I need to find a new doctor. A little bit of valium goes a long way to nip this stress reaction in the bud. And yes, doing more yoga and getting more exercise do have the same effect. And yes, that would be a better long-term answer. Sometimes it's just about getting through the night.

Reflections on the blog

I look back on a week of memes and snapshots, and realize I've gone from as many as 3 posts a day down to a single post. Yesterday, I didn't post at all. It marks the first day without an update to Abandon Hope since the days I spent in the hospital after giving birth to Lindsay. I've been censoring myself, which makes this blog a useless space. This blog wasn't created as a Internet corkboard where I pin up pics of my kids.

I've mentioned that my sister is in a facility for women with eating disorders. This is her second stay. She traveled out there a couple days before Christmas, and was out there until the end of February.

During her first stay, I received a package inviting me out the first week of February for family week. Every woman who goes through the program has a week of intensive therapy that involves their parents and siblings. I won't tell you that it was easy. I was honestly terrified when I got there. I didn't know how I was going to steel myself against bursting into tears constantly. The first day, we were supposed to write something we wanted to get out of that week. It couldn't have to do with the family member that was resident there. I wrote down I wanted to be less afraid.

The week out there really changed me, and I did leave there feeling less afraid, but more importantly I was no longer willing to allow fear to make decisions for me. I had avoided thinking about the idea of going back to school because I was afraid that I wouldn't get in, and afraid if I got in, I would fail. Although I read more than a dozen blogs on a daily basis, I was afraid to start my own. I was afraid I couldn't write very well. I felt my own life was too mundane to blog about. I was afraid no one would read it.

So it is with some irony that the troubles of the past month have escaped the blog because basically I am just too chickenshit knowing who reads it. This is me, trying to let go of that. Trying to let go of being the quintessential people pleaser. This is my space and I am going to use it.