I'm a movie talker. I don't do it when we're in the theaters, but at home, I can't help it. It's why Mr X usually wears headphones. I can talk and he doesn't have to hear me.
Tonight he didn't.
Tonight he made me watch Star Wars III. I don't mind really, but it's definitely not my usual thing.
Tonight, I got The Look for the following:
*Repeatedly referring to the movie as Star Trek. At first, it was an innocent mistake but when he started getting annoyed, it was just funny.
* When the Chancellor turned to whats-his-face-that-turns-into-Garth-Vader and said "I have good news", without missing a beat I shouted "I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico!"
*Repeatedly asking when 'Garth' Vader was going to show up. Yes I know it's Darth. But Garth is funnier.
* Asking if he ever noticed that his mom kind of looks like Yoda, only not so wise.
* "Water, you will pass Mr X-ey one"
* "You kind of look like that Dog thing honey."
"That's a Wookie Mrs X"
"Bless you."
"What?"
"I thought you sneezed."
* Telling my increasingly less patient husband that Garth Vader was hot with that mask on and the heavy breathing? What a turn on! I bet he made great dirty phone calls.
*Asking why Captain Picard wasn't in there fighting with the force.
* Asking who the gold man was about 6 times. And no I don't remember.
* Telling him R2D2 looked like a trash can on wheels and that I dressed as him for halloween one year as a kid.
* Telling him I wanted an R2D2 for my birthday so I wouldn't have to dust anymore.
* Repeatedly referring to Samuel L Jackson as Julien and saying that it would be so much more kick ass if he'd start doing that speech he always did in Pulp Fiction. Can you picture Yoda as John Travolta? Doing the twist with Uma? Uh-huh. Totally kick ass right?
He went to bed before the movie was even over. His headphones are charging so there's always next time!
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Poking the Bear
The bear being Baby X and the poking being those evil evil vaccinations! And before I get any comments via here or e-mail, I vax because the alternative, for me, is far scarier. I'll be damned if I'm going to take a chance on that!
Check-up was good, kid is a total string bean; lean and lanky. He had 2 nurses to give him the shots. I laid him back and he flirted with them and talked until *jab* *jab* AARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And OH!! The look he gave them! Because he was just so OFFENDED!
Here he was flirting away, batting his baby blues, smiling that toothy grin, cooing softly, he'd gently tough their arms with his hands and dip his chin and then, OH AND THEN!! The pain! They had the nerve! to give him shots!
They left them room as I consoled him and then redressed him. I put his little Santa hat back on him. *sniff sniff* He smiled at me and things were right again.
Until we walked out into the hall.
Baby X has always been a happy baby. Full of smiles, friend of all.
We stepped out into the hallway and where he spotted the nurses.
He threw his head back and began to WAIL!! OH the HUMANITY!! He laid his head down on my shoulder and just SOBBED!! PITY ME!! Those awful awful people hurt my poor little legs!! And OH! How they HURT!!
He'd peek back up to see if they were still there and wail even louder! The other nurses were fawning over the poor poor baby. His Dr came out to see what the fuss was and I just shrugged my shoulders 'it's not me!' I got out to the receptionist to make our next appointment. He flirted with both receptionists as he always does.
When one of the shot nurses came around the corner, he stuck out his lower lip and sniffled. Little tears running down his cheeks.
More fawning for Baby X.
By the time we got out of there, he was smiling and laughing and carrying on as he always does.
My little Ham.
Check-up was good, kid is a total string bean; lean and lanky. He had 2 nurses to give him the shots. I laid him back and he flirted with them and talked until *jab* *jab* AARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And OH!! The look he gave them! Because he was just so OFFENDED!
Here he was flirting away, batting his baby blues, smiling that toothy grin, cooing softly, he'd gently tough their arms with his hands and dip his chin and then, OH AND THEN!! The pain! They had the nerve! to give him shots!
They left them room as I consoled him and then redressed him. I put his little Santa hat back on him. *sniff sniff* He smiled at me and things were right again.
Until we walked out into the hall.
Baby X has always been a happy baby. Full of smiles, friend of all.
We stepped out into the hallway and where he spotted the nurses.
He threw his head back and began to WAIL!! OH the HUMANITY!! He laid his head down on my shoulder and just SOBBED!! PITY ME!! Those awful awful people hurt my poor little legs!! And OH! How they HURT!!
He'd peek back up to see if they were still there and wail even louder! The other nurses were fawning over the poor poor baby. His Dr came out to see what the fuss was and I just shrugged my shoulders 'it's not me!' I got out to the receptionist to make our next appointment. He flirted with both receptionists as he always does.
When one of the shot nurses came around the corner, he stuck out his lower lip and sniffled. Little tears running down his cheeks.
More fawning for Baby X.
By the time we got out of there, he was smiling and laughing and carrying on as he always does.
My little Ham.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
This Message Brought to You by Baby X
Dear Readers,
I have taken over Mommy's blog just long enough to tell you that all is once again well. Your concern has been greatly appreciated. I can now fishhook my sister, pinch my mommy, poke Cat in the eye or butt (whichever is closer), and pick up cookies. Yes, dear readers, my (Favorite!!) finger has returned to all it's functional glory as evidenced by the picture below.
Again, thank you truly,
Baby X
**Yes, that is his finger in his nose.
I have taken over Mommy's blog just long enough to tell you that all is once again well. Your concern has been greatly appreciated. I can now fishhook my sister, pinch my mommy, poke Cat in the eye or butt (whichever is closer), and pick up cookies. Yes, dear readers, my (Favorite!!) finger has returned to all it's functional glory as evidenced by the picture below.
Again, thank you truly,
Baby X
**Yes, that is his finger in his nose.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Oh. Gah! That's Blood! I Mean.... Gah! **UPDATED** 2x because it just wasn't long enough!
I don't really swear very often. I've learned to censor myself since I have a couple of midget parrots who listen to EVERYTHING I SAY AND THEN REPEAT. Usually at totally innappropriate times. Like in the middle of dinner with my grandparents when Girl X (3 at the time) told them to pull her damn finger she had to fart. I nearly choked on my water and my Grandpa had to leave the table because he couldn't stop laughing.
Tonight? It was not a night to test my censorship abilities.
I believe fuckity fuck came out of my mouth a number of times. In my defense, it's not often that I see Baby X's blood on the outside of his body. (You know, as opposed to all the times I've seen it on the inside of his body. What?)
The evening started out well enough. We were waiting for Mr X to get home. It was the first night all week I didn't feel like I was going to keel over from running around all day and night. Baby X had decided that Girl X's door was fun to play with.
We banged as loud as we could with our hands. She'd open it and say boo. Back and forth. He laughed. It was great fun for all. (Gee, I'm so glad we have all those interesting, loud and educational toys for Baby X.) Then Girl X peeked around her door at me. She started to close her door when I saw Baby X was playing with the hinge of the door. The hinge that is inside her room. And we were outside. Um.
"Don't close the door!"
She was like a millisecond from having it totally shut. She quickly opened it.
Huh. There's a little spot of red on the door. Now where did that come from?
Look at Baby X.
Oh Shit! Oh Fuckity Fuck!
He was doing that noiseless scream. Typically reserved for when something really really really hurts. Duh mom! Of course it hurt! What a stupid thing to say. And you just sat there for what seemed like an eternity with this 'uhhh' look on your face while I BLED!! Hello? BLED I SAY!!!!
I grabbed him and ran into the bathroom. How bad could it be? It was just a door right?
uhhhhhhh.
The pad of the tip of his finger was a little more than halfway off.
Gah!!!
I grabbed gauze and tried to stop the bleeding. Yeah. What was that? I've got this BLOOD coming out of my finger, which? I have so much more to say about that! And you stick some kind of papery stuff, hold my finger up and squeeze? What is wrong with you? I mean really! I'm bleeding. You're supposed to drop everything and make it better. Like instantly! And the finger? Oh my GOSH people! Readers? Out there seeing these words right now? I have to tell you. It wasn't just any finger ok? It was my FAVORITE finger. The one I point at everything with. I use it to poke my sister in the eye. I use it to shake indignantly at my mom or my sister or my dad when they won't give me cookies... mmmm cookies. What was I saying? Oh right. The finger. And oh! THE BLOOD! Wow. Just. My favorite finger and. Blood. And she sticks, what was that? Gauze? Yeah. Gauze on my finger. For what?
The blood kept coming so I said 'Gah!' Grabbed a band aid because you know, nothing says good mom better than a SpongeBob band aid on a half chopped finger. What is a SpongeBob? And what is this thing on my finger? First, there's the blood and now there's this strange blue thing stuck to my finger and it won't come off! Help me!
We get to the hospital right in time for everyone else to get there too. By now, Baby X isn't screaming anymore. Girl X is still crying because she feels HORRIBLE because OH MY GOSH MOM I CUT OFF MY BROTHER"S FINGER AND AHHHHH!!!! So, I had to keep telling ehr accidents happen and if she only knew some of the things she had to go to the hospital for...... er. um. Accidents happen. He won't remember it later anyway.
We go to check in and there is noone there. We're in an emergency room and there is NO ONE TO HELP US! HELLO?? There is a line forming behind us. I finally say screw being polite. "Hello? Anyone help?"
Check in and am told to wait. Which, I expected I mean. Finger. Not life threatening.
We walk over and look at the fish tank. Fish? Oh I like, wait. What is this thing on my finger? I want to point at the fish and there is this thing on my finger! Gah!
"Look mom! Dead fish."
What? No. I don't think that's dead. I mean, dead fish float to the top and this one is just kind of hanging out in the coral with his face down in where we can't see it and his tail sticking straight up.
Dead fish float. Right?
When that fish finally did come out, uh. I wish it had stayed in. It was ugly. So ugly. Mom! My finger! Remember? My favorite finger? The one I use to stick up my nose?
Waiting to get called back and I decided we all needed a bathroom break so I told the nurse and she said not to worry.
And when we came back she said 'sorry, I just let someone else go in front of you. You'll get called back soon.'
Of course. You can sit in a hospital waiting room for an hour and they won't call you back until you get up to use the restroom. Never fails.
We finally get taken back to a room.
Where we get to wait and wait some more. Only now? No fish to look at it!
2 1/2 hours later, the Dr walks in and spends all of 2 minutes looking at his finger before he asks me what I'd like to do. What? Did I get a medical degree in your waiting room? What???
If we had been seen 30 minutes earlier, he wouldn't have hesitated to start stictching. But, now it was borderline. It was starting to clot and heal. It was iffy whehter he really needed a stitch or not.
I chose not. Because really? This kid would have been pulling on it and chewing on it and if it wasn't 100% neccessary, why bother. And yes. He will have a scar. But once it's too late for stitches, he would've had one anyway. Did you even think to mention how it HURT to have that strange guy pulling on my finger and bending it like that? Oh and what about that stupid joke with Girl X? Offering her a pony in exchange for me? What was that? Although, maybe I should have said yes. I bet he wouldn't have let my finger, my favorite finger!, get hurt.
So after 3 hours what did we get?
A band-aid.
They were going to wrap it up in some red stretchy stuff- ha! A big red bump where his finger should be!- but Baby x, like me, has a latex allergy. So instead, a giant band aid (no SpongeBob?!?!) that wrapped aorund his finger about a hundred gazillion times! What the.. I mean come on! Of all the darned things... Really? I mean. Really? How am I supposed to bend my finger? Do you know how hard it is to fishhook someone when you can't bend your finger? Well. I do. What next? Wrap up my arm so I can't grab Cat? Gah! Are you all getting the magnitude (do you like how I, a babe of barely a year, can use such big words like magnitude and indignant?), of this? It's my FINGER! I need this finger. A lot. I pick up cookise with this finger! Oh for the love of........ yawn..... uh. ZZZZZZZ....................
So then we had to wait for discharge papers. And after 30 minutes, it dawned on me that I was waiting for someone to tell me how to care for a band aid. A BAND AID!!!
So I left.
Without the papers.
I'm expecting the discharge paper police to show up at my door at any moment. Right behind the favorite finger police.
UPDATED:
Mr X likes to point out how I'm all long winded (and so?) and yes, I totally could have finished this post neatly in like 6 words.
Baby. Finger. Door. Blood. Ouch. Band-aid.
But that does not capture the full picture. The magnitude mom! It's my ffffffavorite!! Zzzzzzzzz
So. It's long. But what did you expect from me?
*Updated AGAIN*
Today we went stocking stuffer shopping. Baby X has been his normal happy self until someone talks to him and then he gets all solemn and holds up his finger and I SWEAR HIS EYES GET WATERY!! and starts "uuuhhhh huh uhuhhhuh uhhh oooo" and then he smiles sweetly. I think it means 'look! Crazy people hurt my finger! Call CPS! I'll smile so she doesn't get what's up! Come on! Dial! Dial!' Actually mom, I'm trying to tell them about this stupid thing you stuck on my finger, my FAVORITE FINGER AGGG!!! and I can't bend it and would they be so kind as to give me a cookie. Then I smile to show them how cute I am. And as soon as I can coordinate myself, this thing is coming off. OFF, you hear me? Now where's my cookie?
Tonight? It was not a night to test my censorship abilities.
I believe fuckity fuck came out of my mouth a number of times. In my defense, it's not often that I see Baby X's blood on the outside of his body. (You know, as opposed to all the times I've seen it on the inside of his body. What?)
The evening started out well enough. We were waiting for Mr X to get home. It was the first night all week I didn't feel like I was going to keel over from running around all day and night. Baby X had decided that Girl X's door was fun to play with.
We banged as loud as we could with our hands. She'd open it and say boo. Back and forth. He laughed. It was great fun for all. (Gee, I'm so glad we have all those interesting, loud and educational toys for Baby X.) Then Girl X peeked around her door at me. She started to close her door when I saw Baby X was playing with the hinge of the door. The hinge that is inside her room. And we were outside. Um.
"Don't close the door!"
She was like a millisecond from having it totally shut. She quickly opened it.
Huh. There's a little spot of red on the door. Now where did that come from?
Look at Baby X.
Oh Shit! Oh Fuckity Fuck!
He was doing that noiseless scream. Typically reserved for when something really really really hurts. Duh mom! Of course it hurt! What a stupid thing to say. And you just sat there for what seemed like an eternity with this 'uhhh' look on your face while I BLED!! Hello? BLED I SAY!!!!
I grabbed him and ran into the bathroom. How bad could it be? It was just a door right?
uhhhhhhh.
The pad of the tip of his finger was a little more than halfway off.
Gah!!!
I grabbed gauze and tried to stop the bleeding. Yeah. What was that? I've got this BLOOD coming out of my finger, which? I have so much more to say about that! And you stick some kind of papery stuff, hold my finger up and squeeze? What is wrong with you? I mean really! I'm bleeding. You're supposed to drop everything and make it better. Like instantly! And the finger? Oh my GOSH people! Readers? Out there seeing these words right now? I have to tell you. It wasn't just any finger ok? It was my FAVORITE finger. The one I point at everything with. I use it to poke my sister in the eye. I use it to shake indignantly at my mom or my sister or my dad when they won't give me cookies... mmmm cookies. What was I saying? Oh right. The finger. And oh! THE BLOOD! Wow. Just. My favorite finger and. Blood. And she sticks, what was that? Gauze? Yeah. Gauze on my finger. For what?
The blood kept coming so I said 'Gah!' Grabbed a band aid because you know, nothing says good mom better than a SpongeBob band aid on a half chopped finger. What is a SpongeBob? And what is this thing on my finger? First, there's the blood and now there's this strange blue thing stuck to my finger and it won't come off! Help me!
We get to the hospital right in time for everyone else to get there too. By now, Baby X isn't screaming anymore. Girl X is still crying because she feels HORRIBLE because OH MY GOSH MOM I CUT OFF MY BROTHER"S FINGER AND AHHHHH!!!! So, I had to keep telling ehr accidents happen and if she only knew some of the things she had to go to the hospital for...... er. um. Accidents happen. He won't remember it later anyway.
We go to check in and there is noone there. We're in an emergency room and there is NO ONE TO HELP US! HELLO?? There is a line forming behind us. I finally say screw being polite. "Hello? Anyone help?"
Check in and am told to wait. Which, I expected I mean. Finger. Not life threatening.
We walk over and look at the fish tank. Fish? Oh I like, wait. What is this thing on my finger? I want to point at the fish and there is this thing on my finger! Gah!
"Look mom! Dead fish."
What? No. I don't think that's dead. I mean, dead fish float to the top and this one is just kind of hanging out in the coral with his face down in where we can't see it and his tail sticking straight up.
Dead fish float. Right?
When that fish finally did come out, uh. I wish it had stayed in. It was ugly. So ugly. Mom! My finger! Remember? My favorite finger? The one I use to stick up my nose?
Waiting to get called back and I decided we all needed a bathroom break so I told the nurse and she said not to worry.
And when we came back she said 'sorry, I just let someone else go in front of you. You'll get called back soon.'
Of course. You can sit in a hospital waiting room for an hour and they won't call you back until you get up to use the restroom. Never fails.
We finally get taken back to a room.
Where we get to wait and wait some more. Only now? No fish to look at it!
2 1/2 hours later, the Dr walks in and spends all of 2 minutes looking at his finger before he asks me what I'd like to do. What? Did I get a medical degree in your waiting room? What???
If we had been seen 30 minutes earlier, he wouldn't have hesitated to start stictching. But, now it was borderline. It was starting to clot and heal. It was iffy whehter he really needed a stitch or not.
I chose not. Because really? This kid would have been pulling on it and chewing on it and if it wasn't 100% neccessary, why bother. And yes. He will have a scar. But once it's too late for stitches, he would've had one anyway. Did you even think to mention how it HURT to have that strange guy pulling on my finger and bending it like that? Oh and what about that stupid joke with Girl X? Offering her a pony in exchange for me? What was that? Although, maybe I should have said yes. I bet he wouldn't have let my finger, my favorite finger!, get hurt.
So after 3 hours what did we get?
A band-aid.
They were going to wrap it up in some red stretchy stuff- ha! A big red bump where his finger should be!- but Baby x, like me, has a latex allergy. So instead, a giant band aid (no SpongeBob?!?!) that wrapped aorund his finger about a hundred gazillion times! What the.. I mean come on! Of all the darned things... Really? I mean. Really? How am I supposed to bend my finger? Do you know how hard it is to fishhook someone when you can't bend your finger? Well. I do. What next? Wrap up my arm so I can't grab Cat? Gah! Are you all getting the magnitude (do you like how I, a babe of barely a year, can use such big words like magnitude and indignant?), of this? It's my FINGER! I need this finger. A lot. I pick up cookise with this finger! Oh for the love of........ yawn..... uh. ZZZZZZZ....................
So then we had to wait for discharge papers. And after 30 minutes, it dawned on me that I was waiting for someone to tell me how to care for a band aid. A BAND AID!!!
So I left.
Without the papers.
I'm expecting the discharge paper police to show up at my door at any moment. Right behind the favorite finger police.
UPDATED:
Mr X likes to point out how I'm all long winded (and so?) and yes, I totally could have finished this post neatly in like 6 words.
Baby. Finger. Door. Blood. Ouch. Band-aid.
But that does not capture the full picture. The magnitude mom! It's my ffffffavorite!! Zzzzzzzzz
So. It's long. But what did you expect from me?
*Updated AGAIN*
Today we went stocking stuffer shopping. Baby X has been his normal happy self until someone talks to him and then he gets all solemn and holds up his finger and I SWEAR HIS EYES GET WATERY!! and starts "uuuhhhh huh uhuhhhuh uhhh oooo" and then he smiles sweetly. I think it means 'look! Crazy people hurt my finger! Call CPS! I'll smile so she doesn't get what's up! Come on! Dial! Dial!' Actually mom, I'm trying to tell them about this stupid thing you stuck on my finger, my FAVORITE FINGER AGGG!!! and I can't bend it and would they be so kind as to give me a cookie. Then I smile to show them how cute I am. And as soon as I can coordinate myself, this thing is coming off. OFF, you hear me? Now where's my cookie?
Note to Women Everywhere
I know it's winter and the perfect time to skip shaving every now and then. When you're all bundled up no one knows. Your significant other is sworn to secrecy at the risk of limbs they hold dearly.
However, if you are going to wear capris; in freezing! icy! weather, shave. And for the love of all that is good and holy, put some lotion on your legs!
When you can map New York City on your legs from all the cracks, it's time to use some lotion.
And the reason my son looked at you so oddly lady at the dentist's office is that he's really only seen that much hair on a leg on his dad. And he was pretty sure you were a woman. Not, as you stated, because he is mentally retarded.
The hell?
Yeah.
THE HELL!!
However, if you are going to wear capris; in freezing! icy! weather, shave. And for the love of all that is good and holy, put some lotion on your legs!
When you can map New York City on your legs from all the cracks, it's time to use some lotion.
And the reason my son looked at you so oddly lady at the dentist's office is that he's really only seen that much hair on a leg on his dad. And he was pretty sure you were a woman. Not, as you stated, because he is mentally retarded.
The hell?
Yeah.
THE HELL!!
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
"What's that? What's that?"
Baby X has found his voice before his feet. While his sister is home, I hear him screaming through the house for her as they chase each other through the hall and into the kitchen. Back down the hall again with him, like a siren, dropping the first letter of her name and the last part of it completely.
"Gog!' at the sight of our Dog or any dog now. "Goggoggoggoggoggoggog mama."
Yes. That's a dog.
"ARCKHS! Mama!" sends fear into our cat and causes him to quickly run as he realizes he has been spotted.
"No." When I say it's bedtime or bathtime.
Please get Cat's head out of your mouth Baby X. "mrmphnauuu" Translation? "No."
"Wow" when the lights on the Christmas tree come on. Or the camera flashes. Or mommy managed to take yet another spill down the driveway in front of all the neighbors.
And the current favorite "sss tat?" and he points to whatever it is that has caught his eye. Sometimes to the same thing over and over again.
"sss tat?" My nose.
"sss tat?" Ow. My eye.
"sss tat?" Mauu mauhth.
Today it was at the book store. Up and down the aisles.
"wow. sss tat?" To the children's section.
"sss tat? gog?" Yes. Picture of a dog on a book.
"sss tat?" Um. 'That' is one very grumpy looking person glaring at me for my stroller being in her direct path. "No. ARCKHS!" Not a cat honey.
When we got to the front to pay for my copy of The Velveteen Rabbit (I love that story!) there was another little one. A 7 month girl with the sweetest toothless grin!
And suddenly, Baby X stopped talking in a language I could almost understand.
They touched hands and smiled and laughed and babbled their own secret language.
Baby X: My mom puts me in stupid hats. Does yours?
New baby: No. But she keeps putting me in these flowery dresses and it is so last season!
Baby X: Nah. You look fine. Does your mom poke you when you're sleeping? I pretend to stay sleeping and then wait an hour and start screaming. As soon as she comes in the room, I go back to sleep. I figure eventually she's going to learn right?
New baby: Dude! That's brilliant! My mom pokes me too! I'm going to start doing that too.
And when it was time for new baby to go, Baby X waved and said "Bye-eye!"
"Sss tat?" and then he noticed the female clerk and went into flirt mode.
Just as when he was tiny and new, I find myself wondering just what it is that goes through his mind each day. What is he thinking? What is he trying so hard to tell me?
Mr X bets that it's that he hates his hats.
"Gog!' at the sight of our Dog or any dog now. "Goggoggoggoggoggoggog mama."
Yes. That's a dog.
"ARCKHS! Mama!" sends fear into our cat and causes him to quickly run as he realizes he has been spotted.
"No." When I say it's bedtime or bathtime.
Please get Cat's head out of your mouth Baby X. "mrmphnauuu" Translation? "No."
"Wow" when the lights on the Christmas tree come on. Or the camera flashes. Or mommy managed to take yet another spill down the driveway in front of all the neighbors.
And the current favorite "sss tat?" and he points to whatever it is that has caught his eye. Sometimes to the same thing over and over again.
"sss tat?" My nose.
"sss tat?" Ow. My eye.
"sss tat?" Mauu mauhth.
Today it was at the book store. Up and down the aisles.
"wow. sss tat?" To the children's section.
"sss tat? gog?" Yes. Picture of a dog on a book.
"sss tat?" Um. 'That' is one very grumpy looking person glaring at me for my stroller being in her direct path. "No. ARCKHS!" Not a cat honey.
When we got to the front to pay for my copy of The Velveteen Rabbit (I love that story!) there was another little one. A 7 month girl with the sweetest toothless grin!
And suddenly, Baby X stopped talking in a language I could almost understand.
They touched hands and smiled and laughed and babbled their own secret language.
Baby X: My mom puts me in stupid hats. Does yours?
New baby: No. But she keeps putting me in these flowery dresses and it is so last season!
Baby X: Nah. You look fine. Does your mom poke you when you're sleeping? I pretend to stay sleeping and then wait an hour and start screaming. As soon as she comes in the room, I go back to sleep. I figure eventually she's going to learn right?
New baby: Dude! That's brilliant! My mom pokes me too! I'm going to start doing that too.
And when it was time for new baby to go, Baby X waved and said "Bye-eye!"
"Sss tat?" and then he noticed the female clerk and went into flirt mode.
Just as when he was tiny and new, I find myself wondering just what it is that goes through his mind each day. What is he thinking? What is he trying so hard to tell me?
Mr X bets that it's that he hates his hats.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Get Her a Padded Suit
"Mrs X, this is the school nurse. Your daughter fell off the monkey bars while doing a back off with a half twist. Don't worry, she broke the fall with her face. Can you come pick her up? She's easy to see. The egg she now has doesn't fit in the room so part of her will be sitting on the curb when you pull up."
Ok, so the egg wasn't quite that big. And I really have no idea what she was trying to do. I do know that this is not the first time she has tried to do it, and landed on her face. The nurse has my number on speed dial. Has since Kindergarten when Girl X decided to take a boy up on a dare.
I believe it started when he said something about girls in skirts are sissies. Something that my little skirt-wearing tomboy wouldn't take sitting down. The school has this slide that seems to go on forever. Facing downhill. Screaming for kids to break the rules and ride it backwards and upside down.
She waited until all the kids were being called to go back to class and she knew the playground patrol would be busy. She climbed to the top, layed down on her tummy and went backwards down the wet slide and straight into the bark and dirt at the bottom.
She walked back to class without saying a word.
No way was she telling! One, she probably would have cried the way I did when I saw her after school and she was not giving some boy the satisfaction. Two, she was pretty sure she had done something stupid and therefore, trouble!
The teacher asked her about the hole in her tights. Did she fall? Girl X shrugged and went back to work.
She got off the bus at the end of the day and we walked home. She didn't say a word until we got to the garage.
"Mom. I have to show you something."
When she lifted her shirt, she had angry red cuts and scratches from her chest to her bellybutton and all across her abdomen. It was beginning to bruise underneath the cuts.
She healed but she didn't learn.
I make regular trips to the nurses office now. I have no doubt that it will continue as, I believe I've mentioned this before, she has inherited my gracefullness and my husband's sense of adventure. Someone who managed to break her foot tripping over a brick and someone who thought parachuting would be fun (after my look of death, he settled for shopping on black friday and dinner with his mom).
Note to Baby X: Mom can only handle one daredevil at a time. Please stick to trying to make Cat pull you around the house by his back legs and eating his tail. Thanks.
Ok, so the egg wasn't quite that big. And I really have no idea what she was trying to do. I do know that this is not the first time she has tried to do it, and landed on her face. The nurse has my number on speed dial. Has since Kindergarten when Girl X decided to take a boy up on a dare.
I believe it started when he said something about girls in skirts are sissies. Something that my little skirt-wearing tomboy wouldn't take sitting down. The school has this slide that seems to go on forever. Facing downhill. Screaming for kids to break the rules and ride it backwards and upside down.
She waited until all the kids were being called to go back to class and she knew the playground patrol would be busy. She climbed to the top, layed down on her tummy and went backwards down the wet slide and straight into the bark and dirt at the bottom.
She walked back to class without saying a word.
No way was she telling! One, she probably would have cried the way I did when I saw her after school and she was not giving some boy the satisfaction. Two, she was pretty sure she had done something stupid and therefore, trouble!
The teacher asked her about the hole in her tights. Did she fall? Girl X shrugged and went back to work.
She got off the bus at the end of the day and we walked home. She didn't say a word until we got to the garage.
"Mom. I have to show you something."
When she lifted her shirt, she had angry red cuts and scratches from her chest to her bellybutton and all across her abdomen. It was beginning to bruise underneath the cuts.
She healed but she didn't learn.
I make regular trips to the nurses office now. I have no doubt that it will continue as, I believe I've mentioned this before, she has inherited my gracefullness and my husband's sense of adventure. Someone who managed to break her foot tripping over a brick and someone who thought parachuting would be fun (after my look of death, he settled for shopping on black friday and dinner with his mom).
Note to Baby X: Mom can only handle one daredevil at a time. Please stick to trying to make Cat pull you around the house by his back legs and eating his tail. Thanks.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
How I Found My Faith
There is nothing more frightening then seeing your child lying in a hospital bed and listening to the Dr say 'Just one more test.'
When Girl X was a baby it started. Frequent high temperatures. 3 am, checking her temp and Oh lord! No. 105? Really. That's bad. What to do? Cool cloth. Tylenol. She's so red. Her breathing is so painfully slow. Hospital. I can't tell you how many times we repeated that scenario for the next 2 years. Once by ambulance.
She had been off that day. Not eating well but still playing. Pedialyte and cuddling. Bedtime. Check on her at 11 pm. She's hot. Red. Taking her jammies off and her skin feels like fire. Breathing is rapid now. Then she started seizing. I don't really know how high her temp was. I didn't check.
I called for an ambulance. My neighbor in the next apartment heard me and came over.
I wasn't particularly religious at that time. Truthfully, I feel that I had lost my faith. But seeing her there, seizing, shaking. I found myself on my knees begging God for mercy and strength. Begging for her.
I heard the sirens and snatched her up. Ran down stairs half panicked. Jumped in the ambulance when they had barely opened the doors and cried for them to please go now. They took her from me and began their routine. My neighbor grabbed my hand and we prayed together now.
Just one more test but no answers.
Months passed and the fevers seemed to be under control. No more febrile seizures but still no answers.
She turned 3 and started preschool. Time passed.
"Did you ever notice something off?"
And then I watched her even closer than ever. She turned 4 and we finally got an appointment with a neurologist and finally. An answer.
Complex Partial Seizure Disorder. Not horrible but yeah. Tests. Sleeping and awake. They watched her brain do it's thing. MRI to see if they could tell where it was originating from. It was awful. They had to give her an IV and put her to sleep. It was loud. I sat in the room with her and tried not to cry. Things could be worse. We were at Children's Hospital. I had looked around and knew, things could be worse.
She didn't shake. She just went somewhere. Her fingers would work themselves as she stared, vacant. Not there. Don't move her. It's confusing to be playing in your room and then suddenly. Blink. The kitchen. She doesn't understand how she got here. She would cry. Disoriented. She said it smelled funny. She had trouble with her bladder.
Nights of sitting by her bed. Listen to her breath. Touch her hair. Kiss her cheek. Cool. Not hot.
Watching her play then her fingers begin working. Eyes blank. Hold her hand. Brush her hair from her eyes. Kiss her head. It's over. Play with her. Don't cry in front of her. Don't look worried. Don't scare her.
The Doctors and tests scared her.
Hold her closer. Watch her when she eats. Can't have her choke.
The medication.
Here's a little puzzle for you.
To get a one month supply of Girl X's meds in the US cost us $565 by the time she was at her full dosage. $565 a month.
We ordered a 3 month supply from Canada. Same meds. Same Brand. 3 months for $216.
$565 for 1 month. $216 for 3 months.
Can you explain that one to me? Because I haven't found anyone who can tell me why and have it make any sense.
The medication. We had to build up to it slowly. Half a pill a week at a time until she was taking 6 pills a day.
6 pills a day for 3 years. No slumber parties away from home. She can't shower by herself. She can't ever be left alone in the tub. She could have a seizure and drown.
2 years seizure free. We could begin taking her off the meds. Slowly. Too fast could be very dangerous for her.
Please God let this work. Please God let her be free now.
I had found my faith. I had found it in the back of an ambulance listening to the siren. I found it in the loud banging of the MRI. I found it in her eyes when she took her last pill.
3 months now and no seizures. 3 more months and we can breath. 3 more months and the likely hood of her ever having another seizure is so low it's laughable. Almost.
She will always be more likely than those who have never had a seizure to have one. Her brother is more likely than others to end up with the same affliction. The risk is small, but it's there.
We watch. We wait. We pray.
Slowly, Girl X is able to focus more easily on her schoolwork. Her reading has caught up to grade level. Getting better daily. Her memory is improving. The medication did it's job but it also took over part of her brain. Numbed it. Slowed it down. It had to. Now it's out of her system and it's like those parts that were sleeping are waking up, catching up.
We don't know what caused her seizures. Was it genetic? The constant high fevers? A fall? A fluke? We'll never know.
I found my faith when my kid got sick. It stayed when she got better.
We were lucky. We were blessed. It could have been so much worse.
When Girl X was a baby it started. Frequent high temperatures. 3 am, checking her temp and Oh lord! No. 105? Really. That's bad. What to do? Cool cloth. Tylenol. She's so red. Her breathing is so painfully slow. Hospital. I can't tell you how many times we repeated that scenario for the next 2 years. Once by ambulance.
She had been off that day. Not eating well but still playing. Pedialyte and cuddling. Bedtime. Check on her at 11 pm. She's hot. Red. Taking her jammies off and her skin feels like fire. Breathing is rapid now. Then she started seizing. I don't really know how high her temp was. I didn't check.
I called for an ambulance. My neighbor in the next apartment heard me and came over.
I wasn't particularly religious at that time. Truthfully, I feel that I had lost my faith. But seeing her there, seizing, shaking. I found myself on my knees begging God for mercy and strength. Begging for her.
I heard the sirens and snatched her up. Ran down stairs half panicked. Jumped in the ambulance when they had barely opened the doors and cried for them to please go now. They took her from me and began their routine. My neighbor grabbed my hand and we prayed together now.
Just one more test but no answers.
Months passed and the fevers seemed to be under control. No more febrile seizures but still no answers.
She turned 3 and started preschool. Time passed.
"Did you ever notice something off?"
And then I watched her even closer than ever. She turned 4 and we finally got an appointment with a neurologist and finally. An answer.
Complex Partial Seizure Disorder. Not horrible but yeah. Tests. Sleeping and awake. They watched her brain do it's thing. MRI to see if they could tell where it was originating from. It was awful. They had to give her an IV and put her to sleep. It was loud. I sat in the room with her and tried not to cry. Things could be worse. We were at Children's Hospital. I had looked around and knew, things could be worse.
She didn't shake. She just went somewhere. Her fingers would work themselves as she stared, vacant. Not there. Don't move her. It's confusing to be playing in your room and then suddenly. Blink. The kitchen. She doesn't understand how she got here. She would cry. Disoriented. She said it smelled funny. She had trouble with her bladder.
Nights of sitting by her bed. Listen to her breath. Touch her hair. Kiss her cheek. Cool. Not hot.
Watching her play then her fingers begin working. Eyes blank. Hold her hand. Brush her hair from her eyes. Kiss her head. It's over. Play with her. Don't cry in front of her. Don't look worried. Don't scare her.
The Doctors and tests scared her.
Hold her closer. Watch her when she eats. Can't have her choke.
The medication.
Here's a little puzzle for you.
To get a one month supply of Girl X's meds in the US cost us $565 by the time she was at her full dosage. $565 a month.
We ordered a 3 month supply from Canada. Same meds. Same Brand. 3 months for $216.
$565 for 1 month. $216 for 3 months.
Can you explain that one to me? Because I haven't found anyone who can tell me why and have it make any sense.
The medication. We had to build up to it slowly. Half a pill a week at a time until she was taking 6 pills a day.
6 pills a day for 3 years. No slumber parties away from home. She can't shower by herself. She can't ever be left alone in the tub. She could have a seizure and drown.
2 years seizure free. We could begin taking her off the meds. Slowly. Too fast could be very dangerous for her.
Please God let this work. Please God let her be free now.
I had found my faith. I had found it in the back of an ambulance listening to the siren. I found it in the loud banging of the MRI. I found it in her eyes when she took her last pill.
3 months now and no seizures. 3 more months and we can breath. 3 more months and the likely hood of her ever having another seizure is so low it's laughable. Almost.
She will always be more likely than those who have never had a seizure to have one. Her brother is more likely than others to end up with the same affliction. The risk is small, but it's there.
We watch. We wait. We pray.
Slowly, Girl X is able to focus more easily on her schoolwork. Her reading has caught up to grade level. Getting better daily. Her memory is improving. The medication did it's job but it also took over part of her brain. Numbed it. Slowed it down. It had to. Now it's out of her system and it's like those parts that were sleeping are waking up, catching up.
We don't know what caused her seizures. Was it genetic? The constant high fevers? A fall? A fluke? We'll never know.
I found my faith when my kid got sick. It stayed when she got better.
We were lucky. We were blessed. It could have been so much worse.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Out of the Mouths of Babes
Dear Santa,
For Christmas this year I would like some Bratz dolls. That is all. My brother likes trucks and toys that give mom a headache. A drum on wheels would be perfect. In exchange I will leave you some cookies. They are really good. I am hiding some from Dad just for you. I will try not to eat all of the ones I am hiding for you. If I do I am sorry and maybe you'll get cookies next door because Neighbor X's dad doesn't like cookies.
I bet I have been very good this year. Just don't ask my mom ok?
Love, Girl X
PS Mom says I am getting snowman poo. She is kidding me right?
And I ask now as I have asked many times over the years......
Where did she come from?!!??!?!
For Christmas this year I would like some Bratz dolls. That is all. My brother likes trucks and toys that give mom a headache. A drum on wheels would be perfect. In exchange I will leave you some cookies. They are really good. I am hiding some from Dad just for you. I will try not to eat all of the ones I am hiding for you. If I do I am sorry and maybe you'll get cookies next door because Neighbor X's dad doesn't like cookies.
I bet I have been very good this year. Just don't ask my mom ok?
Love, Girl X
PS Mom says I am getting snowman poo. She is kidding me right?
And I ask now as I have asked many times over the years......
Where did she come from?!!??!?!
Friday, December 09, 2005
Stupid Things I've Done Today
I do stupid things everyday. Kultzy things. Verbal things that should never have been said. Things for which I cannot explain. Today was no exception.
To give you insight into what it's like for Mr X to come home every day I've decided to share them with you. That poor poor man. He so foolishly, er, bravely asks me every day how my day was. This is an example of what he's treated to.
*I spent my morning scraping burnt pancake off the microwave because I mistakenly set the timer for 30 minutes not 30 seconds before going to get myself and Baby X dressed. I stopped and helped Girl X with her clothes and made my bed and thought to myself "I'm really on top of it today. Yay me!" I gathered my things to be ready to go grocery shopping and... wait.... *sniff*... what's that smell? *POP* EW! What is that smell? Wait. The microwave is still running? Crap! Yeah. So. Ew. And pop tarts for Breakfast because I suck and my kids teeth are all going to rot out of her pretty little head if I keep this up!
*I ran over my own foot at the grocery store. I still don't know how I did it. My toes had barely recovered from Thanksgiving and then? Ow. Cart. Smashed toes hate me.
*I was carrying in the groceries after putting Baby X down for a nap and I lost my grip on one of the bags. And of all the bags it would be? The one with the spaghetti sauce of course! I was standing in my driveway in freezing weather spraying ragu off into the grass. And that of course made the driveway extra slippy. Which? I found out when I tried to bring in the next bag of groceries and fell on my ass people! My neighbors think I'm an idiot who can't walk. Or I drink.
*I managed to get all the groceries put away with only slamming my finger in a cabinet once. I sat down to eat lunch, yeah! Then I heard feet on the steps to my front door. I had to run fast to stop the UPS guy from ringing the doorbell or knocking (Causing Dog to bark) and thereby waking up Baby X. I was running up the stairs waving my arms like a madwoman and? Totally bit it. I crashed forward and slammed my chin into the top step. I howled and the UPS guy looked horrified. At least the neighbors couldn't see me.
*You would think that I had done enough damage to myself for one day. Right? You'd be wrong.
I had to go back out to my van to grab some wrapping paper. I opened the garage but before it came all the way up I decided to just duck under it. Because I? Dumbass.
I smashed my head right into the bottom of the door. And that HURT!! Still hurts.
I was almost ok but then I felt wet. I cut my head. Just a little, but ahh! Blood! And my neighbors? More reason for them to think I'm an idiot. Or a drunk.
To give you insight into what it's like for Mr X to come home every day I've decided to share them with you. That poor poor man. He so foolishly, er, bravely asks me every day how my day was. This is an example of what he's treated to.
*I spent my morning scraping burnt pancake off the microwave because I mistakenly set the timer for 30 minutes not 30 seconds before going to get myself and Baby X dressed. I stopped and helped Girl X with her clothes and made my bed and thought to myself "I'm really on top of it today. Yay me!" I gathered my things to be ready to go grocery shopping and... wait.... *sniff*... what's that smell? *POP* EW! What is that smell? Wait. The microwave is still running? Crap! Yeah. So. Ew. And pop tarts for Breakfast because I suck and my kids teeth are all going to rot out of her pretty little head if I keep this up!
*I ran over my own foot at the grocery store. I still don't know how I did it. My toes had barely recovered from Thanksgiving and then? Ow. Cart. Smashed toes hate me.
*I was carrying in the groceries after putting Baby X down for a nap and I lost my grip on one of the bags. And of all the bags it would be? The one with the spaghetti sauce of course! I was standing in my driveway in freezing weather spraying ragu off into the grass. And that of course made the driveway extra slippy. Which? I found out when I tried to bring in the next bag of groceries and fell on my ass people! My neighbors think I'm an idiot who can't walk. Or I drink.
*I managed to get all the groceries put away with only slamming my finger in a cabinet once. I sat down to eat lunch, yeah! Then I heard feet on the steps to my front door. I had to run fast to stop the UPS guy from ringing the doorbell or knocking (Causing Dog to bark) and thereby waking up Baby X. I was running up the stairs waving my arms like a madwoman and? Totally bit it. I crashed forward and slammed my chin into the top step. I howled and the UPS guy looked horrified. At least the neighbors couldn't see me.
*You would think that I had done enough damage to myself for one day. Right? You'd be wrong.
I had to go back out to my van to grab some wrapping paper. I opened the garage but before it came all the way up I decided to just duck under it. Because I? Dumbass.
I smashed my head right into the bottom of the door. And that HURT!! Still hurts.
I was almost ok but then I felt wet. I cut my head. Just a little, but ahh! Blood! And my neighbors? More reason for them to think I'm an idiot. Or a drunk.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Send in The Clowns.......
Mr X and I got married when Girl X was 4. (He adopted her last year. Another story for another day if I actually remember that I was going to post about it.) We managed to avoid all the big to-do's and my MIL by just going to Las Vegas. My family was there and some of his family. Very small and just right for us. As a momento, we had gotten her a clown. It's sparkly and sits in this canister. She has never taken it out of the canister. It sits on her shelf, smiling that freakish smile that clowns have.
The first week we were back from Vegas, I was sitting in the living room doing some paperwork. I had put Girl X down for bed an hour before and had already told her twice to stop playing and go to sleep. Mr X was watching tv.
She came stomping out to the kitchen carrying this clown in the canister with her and she looked furious. I got up to put her back to bed and tell her now is no playtime. Instead I watched as she put the clown down facing the corner, stepped back and with her hands on her hips did the best mommy impression I have ever seen.
Waggling her finger at it....
"Now you just sit there and think about what you did. It's not play time it's sleep time and I better not hear 'nother peep outta' you or I'll give you a what for mister!"
And with that she turned and marched herself back to bed. As she went down the hall, she yelled back "Nobody talk to that boy! He's in trouble."
Within 5 minutes she was asleep and I was still standing in the kitchen with the clown in the corner. Mr X and I jsut looked at eachother and burst out laughing.
I still don't know what 'what for' is or where she ever heard it. But that clown still sits on her shelf. Every now and then I hear her tell it to go to sleep. And I giggle thinking of that little powerhouse in the kitchen yelling at her toy.
The first week we were back from Vegas, I was sitting in the living room doing some paperwork. I had put Girl X down for bed an hour before and had already told her twice to stop playing and go to sleep. Mr X was watching tv.
She came stomping out to the kitchen carrying this clown in the canister with her and she looked furious. I got up to put her back to bed and tell her now is no playtime. Instead I watched as she put the clown down facing the corner, stepped back and with her hands on her hips did the best mommy impression I have ever seen.
Waggling her finger at it....
"Now you just sit there and think about what you did. It's not play time it's sleep time and I better not hear 'nother peep outta' you or I'll give you a what for mister!"
And with that she turned and marched herself back to bed. As she went down the hall, she yelled back "Nobody talk to that boy! He's in trouble."
Within 5 minutes she was asleep and I was still standing in the kitchen with the clown in the corner. Mr X and I jsut looked at eachother and burst out laughing.
I still don't know what 'what for' is or where she ever heard it. But that clown still sits on her shelf. Every now and then I hear her tell it to go to sleep. And I giggle thinking of that little powerhouse in the kitchen yelling at her toy.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
"I Have Worms in Me"
*Shiver* That still gives me chills. I keep hearing it over and over in my head.
I was watching some show on TLC and this Dr was talking about a patient he once had who was um... slightly mentally disturbed? She kept saying over and over "I have worms in me". All calm and matter of fact. "I have worms in me."
The Dr prepared to do his thing and just happened to catch a glimpse of her arm. When he pushed up her sleeve he saw that her arm was BLACK FROM THE NASTIEST CUT EVER!! And this is what I was watching before bed? And I wonder why I have the strangest dreams? Her arm was black up to her elbow.
"I have worms in me."
At this point the Dr has pretty much said to hell with the worms, this cut is pretty bad. Gee, ya' think?
He decides to take a look in the cut to see how deep it goes and, wait? Are you eating right now? Because really? You should stop reading. Or eating. Because you know what I'm about to say right?
The Dr nearly fell out of his chair because SHE HAD WORMS IN HER. They were slithering through her cut arm. He started pulling them out with forceps. She named them as he pulled them out ad got upset because she thought he was hurting them. There were 6 or 7 of those earthworms in her arm.
Once he had them all out, he set about to clean up her arm. She looked at him and smiled.
"I have worms in me."
"Yes you did."
"I have worms in me."
And then she pulled up her other sleeve.
I had to stop watching once he began to pull more worms out. I wanted to go to sleep that night without having any more of that image in my head.
Still, her voice replayed in my head all night.
"I have worms in me."
And I wonder what it is that compels a person, even someone who is mentally disabled, to dig into themselves and fill that cut with worms.
Is it loneliness? That would seem like the most logical answer right?
And it makes me sad. It even makes me miss my old job. I used to be an aide for mentally disabled persons who lived on their own. They all had a variety of mental disabilities and many capabilities. Most had jobs. They shared an apartment or home with another disabled person in the program I worked for. The one thing they all had in common was that they had been abandoned. Most did have families, but only one ever saw their child and then only once a month. But they had eachother. And they had us.
But it got to be too much. A few would get violent and if you didn't know how to deflect them, you could get seriously hurt. Some had medical problems that just made you ache to watch them. It seemed to me that with their lot in life the least they could have would be their physical health. I had to leave that job as much as I did love it. Most of the people who worked their burned out. And so did I.
Still, I have moments where I miss it.
************************************************************
Those little stars are just to say I'm done being serious right now. Because I wanted to get back to my original subject. See, I made the mistake of telling Mr X about that show and 'I have worms in me' and now? He's torturing me with it.
This morning he was whispering in my ear as I lay half asleep "I have woorrrrmmmmssss in me".
As he kissed me goodnight tonight "You have worms in you!"
And he's enjoying this way too much!
Especially since now? I have to keep rubbing my arms.
"I have worms in me"
I was watching some show on TLC and this Dr was talking about a patient he once had who was um... slightly mentally disturbed? She kept saying over and over "I have worms in me". All calm and matter of fact. "I have worms in me."
The Dr prepared to do his thing and just happened to catch a glimpse of her arm. When he pushed up her sleeve he saw that her arm was BLACK FROM THE NASTIEST CUT EVER!! And this is what I was watching before bed? And I wonder why I have the strangest dreams? Her arm was black up to her elbow.
"I have worms in me."
At this point the Dr has pretty much said to hell with the worms, this cut is pretty bad. Gee, ya' think?
He decides to take a look in the cut to see how deep it goes and, wait? Are you eating right now? Because really? You should stop reading. Or eating. Because you know what I'm about to say right?
The Dr nearly fell out of his chair because SHE HAD WORMS IN HER. They were slithering through her cut arm. He started pulling them out with forceps. She named them as he pulled them out ad got upset because she thought he was hurting them. There were 6 or 7 of those earthworms in her arm.
Once he had them all out, he set about to clean up her arm. She looked at him and smiled.
"I have worms in me."
"Yes you did."
"I have worms in me."
And then she pulled up her other sleeve.
I had to stop watching once he began to pull more worms out. I wanted to go to sleep that night without having any more of that image in my head.
Still, her voice replayed in my head all night.
"I have worms in me."
And I wonder what it is that compels a person, even someone who is mentally disabled, to dig into themselves and fill that cut with worms.
Is it loneliness? That would seem like the most logical answer right?
And it makes me sad. It even makes me miss my old job. I used to be an aide for mentally disabled persons who lived on their own. They all had a variety of mental disabilities and many capabilities. Most had jobs. They shared an apartment or home with another disabled person in the program I worked for. The one thing they all had in common was that they had been abandoned. Most did have families, but only one ever saw their child and then only once a month. But they had eachother. And they had us.
But it got to be too much. A few would get violent and if you didn't know how to deflect them, you could get seriously hurt. Some had medical problems that just made you ache to watch them. It seemed to me that with their lot in life the least they could have would be their physical health. I had to leave that job as much as I did love it. Most of the people who worked their burned out. And so did I.
Still, I have moments where I miss it.
************************************************************
Those little stars are just to say I'm done being serious right now. Because I wanted to get back to my original subject. See, I made the mistake of telling Mr X about that show and 'I have worms in me' and now? He's torturing me with it.
This morning he was whispering in my ear as I lay half asleep "I have woorrrrmmmmssss in me".
As he kissed me goodnight tonight "You have worms in you!"
And he's enjoying this way too much!
Especially since now? I have to keep rubbing my arms.
"I have worms in me"
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
A Visit with The Doctor
And I don't mean me so please don't start e-mailing me any odd medical questions or nasty pictures of some oozing purple cut. *shiver* There's a mental image I didn't want!
I mean the visit Baby X had with his Dr for his one year check up. Ok, maybe slightly less interesting but it wins because there are no disgusting pictures to go with it. (And if any of you smart asses send me anything gross *R!!*, I'm posting it. Keep that in mind).
He was sick, so no shots this time. We have to go back in a few weeks when he is over his ear infection. I'm sure that will be..... fun. Well, maybe for the nurse who turns into a total sadist when she gets that needle in her hand.
They weighed him... Chunk!!! They measured his height... Shorty!
And during all this he squirmed and rolled and did crunches because he does not like being on his back.
When the Dr came in she wanted to poke him, pinch him and otherwise check him over. He? Was not having ANY PART OF THIS CRAZY LADY WITH A STICK!
In desperation to get him to just lay still for a moment, I resorted to something that elicited many a giggle from the Dr and I'm sure the odd look from anyone who managed to hear me.......
"THAT'S IT!! I'M GOING TO EAT THE BABY!!!"
And my little monster? Threw himself down, punched out his stomach, raised his arms and smiled big in anticipation of getting eaten up!
It amazes me what I will resort to just to get this kid to do what needs to be done.
He was rewarded with many a raspberry on his tummy and sides.
And when I left to go to the receptionist to schedule his next appointment, I was met with a few grins and a little old lady who smiled and said "I'd eat him up too if I had any teeth."
I mean the visit Baby X had with his Dr for his one year check up. Ok, maybe slightly less interesting but it wins because there are no disgusting pictures to go with it. (And if any of you smart asses send me anything gross *R!!*, I'm posting it. Keep that in mind).
He was sick, so no shots this time. We have to go back in a few weeks when he is over his ear infection. I'm sure that will be..... fun. Well, maybe for the nurse who turns into a total sadist when she gets that needle in her hand.
They weighed him... Chunk!!! They measured his height... Shorty!
And during all this he squirmed and rolled and did crunches because he does not like being on his back.
When the Dr came in she wanted to poke him, pinch him and otherwise check him over. He? Was not having ANY PART OF THIS CRAZY LADY WITH A STICK!
In desperation to get him to just lay still for a moment, I resorted to something that elicited many a giggle from the Dr and I'm sure the odd look from anyone who managed to hear me.......
"THAT'S IT!! I'M GOING TO EAT THE BABY!!!"
And my little monster? Threw himself down, punched out his stomach, raised his arms and smiled big in anticipation of getting eaten up!
It amazes me what I will resort to just to get this kid to do what needs to be done.
He was rewarded with many a raspberry on his tummy and sides.
And when I left to go to the receptionist to schedule his next appointment, I was met with a few grins and a little old lady who smiled and said "I'd eat him up too if I had any teeth."
He's one!
What a difference a year can make!
He's one! I have to keep reminding myself that a year has already passed. Soon I'll have to stop calling him Baby X and start calling him what? Toddler X maybe? We'll see once he starts walking. Girl X was a late walker too. He likes to hitchhike. He'll grab the pant leg of anyone walking by and toddle along with them.
His party was this weekend and he was sick. He wouldn't touch his cake or ice cream. The cake I could kind of see but ice cream? This kid will appear out of nowhere when you open an ice cream container. He knows exactly how much ice cream is in a pint and just how much he should get before you put it away! But he wanted nothing to do with it at his party.
He did enjoy playing with his cousin. She is 6 months older than him but smaller. She was sitting there quietly playing on the floor when Baby X decided that she needed to be tackled and climbed on. She was crying her little eyes off and Baby X just sat on her and smiled. It's not that he meant to hurt her or make her cry. He only does this with people he really likes. I think Cousin X would just have rather had him not like ehr so much!
Sadly, anytime she saw him after that she would run and try to hide and he, thinking "yay! She wants to play chase with me!" would run afte rher laughing.
My Mother in Law is currently furious with me. I returned the dress she bought Girl X for her birthday. it was 2 sizes too big and nothing she would ever wear. MIL showed up at the party with the same dress in Girl X's size and asked for the other dress back. The misunderstanding was cleared up but she asked to see what I exchanged it for and was furious that I hadn't gotten her another dress. Mr X laughed and told me that she will never forget or forgive me. Not that it really matters since she hates me anyway. It's just one more strike against me.
She also told us that she had to return Baby X's present because she had bought a size 4. For some reason she always buys clothes 2- 3 times too big. Oh, and she argued with me because she thinks Baby X is 2 and we're all lying to her that he's only 1. Methinks she's off the meds again.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Forgotten.........
I was going to Blog about Baby X's first birthday party tonight (*tear*) but I'll save that for when I'm not falling asleep at the keyboard.
Instead, I have to tell you what happened today because seriously? This keeps happening! Maybe not this exact thing (although, yeah) but just being in the right place at the right time I guess?
We have this reward system set up for Girl X. She gets punished for bad behavior, but more importantly, she gets rewarded for outstanding behavior. Good grades, doing good things without being asked, doing something sweet for her brother, etc. She had earned a 'reward' and decided that she wanted us all to go out to lunch together. Nothing really exciting, just a Burger King playland. While there another group joined us. 2 sisters and their kids, husbands, brother and parents. The moms insisted that their kids wear their shoes in the playland whihc you aren't supposed to do. Rebels! The part that made me snort chicken was when one of them said "It's filthy in there so keep your shoes on."
These kids are crawling through the playland. Exactly what will keeping their shoes on protect?
They were loud- like yelling loud. But their kids were so cute!
We just ignored them and carried on. After awhile they got up and left.
We ate and Girl X played.
I went up to get her a sundae pie.
There was this cute little boy pacing back and forth.
He looked kind of familiar.
Right at the moment it hit me, I saw Mr X come up.
He looked at me and pointed to the boy "They left him."
WHAT THE FROG?
Yeah. They left this kid. In Burger King. He was 6 or 7 maybe?
I stopped him from going out and asked the manager for the phone. Thankfully the kid knew his phone number but at this point he was in tears. They left him!!
In their defense, there were 3 cars and lots of kids. I'm sure they thought he was in another car. And I'm equally sure she felt awful realizing her wasn't.
When the mom came back that kid bolted across the parking lot and wrapped his arms around her and she mouthed thank you to me. I could feel her relief from across the parking lot.
I bet that kid gets whatever he wants for Christmas.
We all do stupid things
Instead, I have to tell you what happened today because seriously? This keeps happening! Maybe not this exact thing (although, yeah) but just being in the right place at the right time I guess?
We have this reward system set up for Girl X. She gets punished for bad behavior, but more importantly, she gets rewarded for outstanding behavior. Good grades, doing good things without being asked, doing something sweet for her brother, etc. She had earned a 'reward' and decided that she wanted us all to go out to lunch together. Nothing really exciting, just a Burger King playland. While there another group joined us. 2 sisters and their kids, husbands, brother and parents. The moms insisted that their kids wear their shoes in the playland whihc you aren't supposed to do. Rebels! The part that made me snort chicken was when one of them said "It's filthy in there so keep your shoes on."
These kids are crawling through the playland. Exactly what will keeping their shoes on protect?
They were loud- like yelling loud. But their kids were so cute!
We just ignored them and carried on. After awhile they got up and left.
We ate and Girl X played.
I went up to get her a sundae pie.
There was this cute little boy pacing back and forth.
He looked kind of familiar.
Right at the moment it hit me, I saw Mr X come up.
He looked at me and pointed to the boy "They left him."
WHAT THE FROG?
Yeah. They left this kid. In Burger King. He was 6 or 7 maybe?
I stopped him from going out and asked the manager for the phone. Thankfully the kid knew his phone number but at this point he was in tears. They left him!!
In their defense, there were 3 cars and lots of kids. I'm sure they thought he was in another car. And I'm equally sure she felt awful realizing her wasn't.
When the mom came back that kid bolted across the parking lot and wrapped his arms around her and she mouthed thank you to me. I could feel her relief from across the parking lot.
I bet that kid gets whatever he wants for Christmas.
We all do stupid things
Friday, December 02, 2005
Guess What I did Today!!
Go on, you'll never guess.....
I went shopping!! I know, you never saw that coming right? Honestly this really is unusual for me because I rarely go shopping, but it is Christmas. There is something about Christmas that makes my Mastercard hate me.
I had to go to Borders to get a gift card and they had all these bargain kid's books. Harold and the Purple Crayon! 50% off! And then a stationary set for Girl X's teacher.....
I love shopping.
Baby X loves the flirting. I caught him feeling up the nice clerk who was helping me with some books. Just running his hand up and down her leg.
I'm lucky she had a sense of humor.
And I still have nothing for Mr X.
I need some ideas! So I'm going to ask you and I know you're watching....
What are you getting your significant others for the Holidays?
I went shopping!! I know, you never saw that coming right? Honestly this really is unusual for me because I rarely go shopping, but it is Christmas. There is something about Christmas that makes my Mastercard hate me.
I had to go to Borders to get a gift card and they had all these bargain kid's books. Harold and the Purple Crayon! 50% off! And then a stationary set for Girl X's teacher.....
I love shopping.
Baby X loves the flirting. I caught him feeling up the nice clerk who was helping me with some books. Just running his hand up and down her leg.
I'm lucky she had a sense of humor.
And I still have nothing for Mr X.
I need some ideas! So I'm going to ask you and I know you're watching....
What are you getting your significant others for the Holidays?
Thursday, December 01, 2005
I'm raising an Obsessive Compulsive and Other Random Notes
First? It's snowing! Yay! I love snow. I miss snow. We don't get enough of it here. Like, it snows and we can make a snowman but we have to use every bit of snow in our yard. But now it's snowing and did I tell you? I LOVE snow! I'm doing the snoopy dance right now.
Jumping to a new topic......
I had to go shopping again today. Yes I HAD to. No really, we needed food. And Christmas presents. Again. But I'm wondering what it is about the Holidays that brings out the worst in some people. Because y'all I have met every grumpy grousy (is grousy a word?) sour face today.
There was the guy that yelled at me to watch where I was going when I was standing there, totally not moving, looking at CDs. There was the guy that rammed this poor elderly lady because she couldn't move the motorized cart fast enough and then ran when I yelled at him and yes I SO DID YELL AT HIM even though he was way bigger than me.
And on and on. Seriously? What is it about the Holidays that make everyone turn into such sour snots?
And jumping subjects again because I'm good at it and it's fun and I don't want to make a new post when this one is just fine thank you very much. (See? Run-ons and that part of my brain that makes me stop is sleeping.)
Baby X is turning all OCD on me. He closes doors and cabinets and drawers. If I lift the arm of his car seat he slams it back down and then glares at me. If he sees my hand go anywhere near it he starts YELLING at me! We got him one of those pop up toys with like 5 animals that pop up when you push the button or slide the lever and so on. He hears one come up and he races over to it to slam it back down because he cannot stand to see it open!
The hell people!
And we're so mean because we'll sit there and open those little animals over and over again and watch him close them and then he will throw himself on to the toy to keep us from opening it again and again. It was missing for awhile and then I found it buried under all his other toys. So, being his mom and oh so in love with him, I opened up all the doors and set it in the middle of the room so he can't miss it when he wakes up.
Jumping to a new topic......
I had to go shopping again today. Yes I HAD to. No really, we needed food. And Christmas presents. Again. But I'm wondering what it is about the Holidays that brings out the worst in some people. Because y'all I have met every grumpy grousy (is grousy a word?) sour face today.
There was the guy that yelled at me to watch where I was going when I was standing there, totally not moving, looking at CDs. There was the guy that rammed this poor elderly lady because she couldn't move the motorized cart fast enough and then ran when I yelled at him and yes I SO DID YELL AT HIM even though he was way bigger than me.
And on and on. Seriously? What is it about the Holidays that make everyone turn into such sour snots?
And jumping subjects again because I'm good at it and it's fun and I don't want to make a new post when this one is just fine thank you very much. (See? Run-ons and that part of my brain that makes me stop is sleeping.)
Baby X is turning all OCD on me. He closes doors and cabinets and drawers. If I lift the arm of his car seat he slams it back down and then glares at me. If he sees my hand go anywhere near it he starts YELLING at me! We got him one of those pop up toys with like 5 animals that pop up when you push the button or slide the lever and so on. He hears one come up and he races over to it to slam it back down because he cannot stand to see it open!
The hell people!
And we're so mean because we'll sit there and open those little animals over and over again and watch him close them and then he will throw himself on to the toy to keep us from opening it again and again. It was missing for awhile and then I found it buried under all his other toys. So, being his mom and oh so in love with him, I opened up all the doors and set it in the middle of the room so he can't miss it when he wakes up.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
I need help!
2 posts in one day! I mean wow! Really? Because when I started this I was thinking once or twice a week but apparently I have more to say than I thought I would.
So I do need help. Or a life. Something more to occupy my time because, you know what? I am BORED! That is my only explanation. I have to constantly be doing something. I can't just sit there and watch Lost. No. I have to be working on some kind of project in the process.
(Ok a little parenthetical note that has nothing to do with what I was talking about but I thought it was funny. Then again I am really tired so it could just be that. I was looking over at the door as I was typing and you know what I saw when I looked back? ug baek benighan. I have no idea what that's supposed to mean. But I guess that means I really need to pay attention to what I'm doing.)
Tonight I finished the album I was avoiding for my parents Christmas present. And I got out all these special milestone pictures I've been taking for Baby X because I got this sudden 'brilliant' idea that for his birthday party this weekend, I'm going to take a scrapbook page, put his footprints in the center, put 6 of these milestone pictures on each side of the scrapbook page and then have guests sign their names and a wish because I am a giant freak and can't just let well enough alone.
I also made bread for the party to make sandwiches. I know I know. It's bread! But it's not just any bread. I made a loaf of red and one of blue. Tomorrow I'm making purple and green. Because You know what? I am bored!
I've taken up making jewelry because I wanted to see if I could do it and now that I know I can? I keep doing it and this is bad because I don't wear jewelry. Ok, rarely. Certainly not enough to require all the necklaces and matching bracelets I've been making.
And I have a blanket I have been crocheting everytime we watch a movie.
One year I made purses for Girl X, some of her friends and my nieces out of the pocket of old jeans.
And I don't know what my problem is. Why can't I just sit and watch a movie? Why do I do this to myself? Why do I always seem to have 7 projects going at once?
I need to start taking valium or something.
So I do need help. Or a life. Something more to occupy my time because, you know what? I am BORED! That is my only explanation. I have to constantly be doing something. I can't just sit there and watch Lost. No. I have to be working on some kind of project in the process.
(Ok a little parenthetical note that has nothing to do with what I was talking about but I thought it was funny. Then again I am really tired so it could just be that. I was looking over at the door as I was typing and you know what I saw when I looked back? ug baek benighan. I have no idea what that's supposed to mean. But I guess that means I really need to pay attention to what I'm doing.)
Tonight I finished the album I was avoiding for my parents Christmas present. And I got out all these special milestone pictures I've been taking for Baby X because I got this sudden 'brilliant' idea that for his birthday party this weekend, I'm going to take a scrapbook page, put his footprints in the center, put 6 of these milestone pictures on each side of the scrapbook page and then have guests sign their names and a wish because I am a giant freak and can't just let well enough alone.
I also made bread for the party to make sandwiches. I know I know. It's bread! But it's not just any bread. I made a loaf of red and one of blue. Tomorrow I'm making purple and green. Because You know what? I am bored!
I've taken up making jewelry because I wanted to see if I could do it and now that I know I can? I keep doing it and this is bad because I don't wear jewelry. Ok, rarely. Certainly not enough to require all the necklaces and matching bracelets I've been making.
And I have a blanket I have been crocheting everytime we watch a movie.
One year I made purses for Girl X, some of her friends and my nieces out of the pocket of old jeans.
And I don't know what my problem is. Why can't I just sit and watch a movie? Why do I do this to myself? Why do I always seem to have 7 projects going at once?
I need to start taking valium or something.
Entitlement
I love Christmas and I love shopping. I like the last minute rush as much as getting it all done early. I know it's pretty sick but I can't help it. There are years where I'm done early, but I'll go out Christmas Eve because I just love that rush of people and the flurry of paper.
But there's that ugly little monster lurking behind the corner. Just waiting to jump out and ruin the mood. It could be dressed in a grandmother or a teen, a yuppie or a soccer mom.
Entitlement.
Perfect example:
I was waiting in line at an arts and crafts store. They only had 2 registers open and the lines were getting really long so they called for another cashier. When she came from the back of the store, she took the first person in the line beside us. The lady behind me started having a fit. She was probably in her late 50's, early 60's and you would think she'd know better but criminy! Convulsions! She sighed and stomped her feet and her face scrunched up. I asked her if she was ok because I thought ambulance maybe? What if she having a stroke?
She glared at me and then leaned over the partition to talk to the cashier in the line next to us.
"You know, the proper thing to do when you open a register is to take who is next not who is closest. I was in line before her and should have been first. You may want to pass that little tidbit onto your friend who does not seem to understand customer service."
Few points before I go on....
1) I was in line in front of this Princess so by her reasoning, I should have gone first.
2) She was in line maybe half a second before the other lady.
3) The other cashier could not have known this for she does not have x-ray vision (as far as I know. I mean she could but she didn't say anything to me and I would guess that having a superpower she wouldn't share it with me, a total stranger) and could not see that from the back of the store.
4) For the other cashier to have taken Princess first, she would have had to cross 2 long lines and pulled her back, making everyone else move out of her way and it wouldn't have been worth it.
Now, to her credit, the cashier smiled and said 'of course'. Because really? If it had been me? She would have gotten this:
"Lady I get paid $7 an hour. I don't give a flaming penny when you got in line."
But the cashiers very polite answer did not satisfy Princess.
She leaned over again and a little bit louder declared that "I have been known to leave stores for that kind of treatment."
The hell?
What did she expect this her to do? Cancel her sale and take Princess first? Offer her a discount? An arm? Her first born child?
And again the cashier politely said "I understand. I'm sorry about your wait. I'm sure your cashier is moving as fast as she can."
Princess huffed and turned red.
This is the part where the smart part of my brain, the one that says 'just shut up and don't say anything you'll only make it worse' goes to sleep. It never fails. Everytime I should shut my trap, it takes a nap or a vacation or whatever it is that those parts of my brain does when I need it most. Like when I'm making run on sentences and the part of my brain that would normally tell me to stop and DAMMIT ALL USE PUNCTUATION ALREADY just disappears and y'all are stuck reading this and thinking 'GAH!! Get her a grammar tutor already!' But that's what happens. And that's what happened here because instead of turning around and just letting it go I looked her straight in the bulging, pulsating eye and said
"Hey Princess, you can go in front of me before you stroke out."
And she huffed and puffed and stomped her way in front of me mumbling about 'rude' and 'insolent'.
The cashier she had been annoying looked at me relieved and also, amused.
Princess threw her stuff on the counter and handed the cashier a coupon. And the cashier looked at the coupon and said "I'm sorry but you can't use this coupon. Wrong product."
Princess stormed out yelling about never coming back. And I think the entire store breathed relief and said "Thank Goodness!"
But this isn't some isolated incident. It happens all the time and I don't get why. Do we forget as we get older all the rules we learned as kids?
*Share
*Take turns
*Patience
*Temper Tantrums will get you sent to the corner
I hope that Princess took a time out.
But there's that ugly little monster lurking behind the corner. Just waiting to jump out and ruin the mood. It could be dressed in a grandmother or a teen, a yuppie or a soccer mom.
Entitlement.
Perfect example:
I was waiting in line at an arts and crafts store. They only had 2 registers open and the lines were getting really long so they called for another cashier. When she came from the back of the store, she took the first person in the line beside us. The lady behind me started having a fit. She was probably in her late 50's, early 60's and you would think she'd know better but criminy! Convulsions! She sighed and stomped her feet and her face scrunched up. I asked her if she was ok because I thought ambulance maybe? What if she having a stroke?
She glared at me and then leaned over the partition to talk to the cashier in the line next to us.
"You know, the proper thing to do when you open a register is to take who is next not who is closest. I was in line before her and should have been first. You may want to pass that little tidbit onto your friend who does not seem to understand customer service."
Few points before I go on....
1) I was in line in front of this Princess so by her reasoning, I should have gone first.
2) She was in line maybe half a second before the other lady.
3) The other cashier could not have known this for she does not have x-ray vision (as far as I know. I mean she could but she didn't say anything to me and I would guess that having a superpower she wouldn't share it with me, a total stranger) and could not see that from the back of the store.
4) For the other cashier to have taken Princess first, she would have had to cross 2 long lines and pulled her back, making everyone else move out of her way and it wouldn't have been worth it.
Now, to her credit, the cashier smiled and said 'of course'. Because really? If it had been me? She would have gotten this:
"Lady I get paid $7 an hour. I don't give a flaming penny when you got in line."
But the cashiers very polite answer did not satisfy Princess.
She leaned over again and a little bit louder declared that "I have been known to leave stores for that kind of treatment."
The hell?
What did she expect this her to do? Cancel her sale and take Princess first? Offer her a discount? An arm? Her first born child?
And again the cashier politely said "I understand. I'm sorry about your wait. I'm sure your cashier is moving as fast as she can."
Princess huffed and turned red.
This is the part where the smart part of my brain, the one that says 'just shut up and don't say anything you'll only make it worse' goes to sleep. It never fails. Everytime I should shut my trap, it takes a nap or a vacation or whatever it is that those parts of my brain does when I need it most. Like when I'm making run on sentences and the part of my brain that would normally tell me to stop and DAMMIT ALL USE PUNCTUATION ALREADY just disappears and y'all are stuck reading this and thinking 'GAH!! Get her a grammar tutor already!' But that's what happens. And that's what happened here because instead of turning around and just letting it go I looked her straight in the bulging, pulsating eye and said
"Hey Princess, you can go in front of me before you stroke out."
And she huffed and puffed and stomped her way in front of me mumbling about 'rude' and 'insolent'.
The cashier she had been annoying looked at me relieved and also, amused.
Princess threw her stuff on the counter and handed the cashier a coupon. And the cashier looked at the coupon and said "I'm sorry but you can't use this coupon. Wrong product."
Princess stormed out yelling about never coming back. And I think the entire store breathed relief and said "Thank Goodness!"
But this isn't some isolated incident. It happens all the time and I don't get why. Do we forget as we get older all the rules we learned as kids?
*Share
*Take turns
*Patience
*Temper Tantrums will get you sent to the corner
I hope that Princess took a time out.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
I suck........
I have turned procrastination into an art form. I do this to myself every year and every year I say 'Never again!'
Who am I kidding? Not me! Because I know I'm lying.
Here it is again. Nearly the beginning of December and I have not finished my parents album for Christmas. Every year I make them a scrapbook of things we did the year before. Since they live on the other side of the country, it helps them keep up and the appreciate it.
I actually started in January, I just never bothered to finish it. So, now I'm rushing to complete that and the one for my brother since he also lives so far away. Oh, and the one I was making for a friend. All that I need to have finished by next week so I can still have enough time to finish Girl X's 2 that I planned for Christmas for her.
And am I working on it now while Baby X is sleeping and I could actually get some of it done?
Hell no.
Because? My time is better spent playing TriJong and reading Vietnamese God (under blogs of note!).
And because, as I believe I mentioned, I suck.
And ok, I could really go up and work on it now but then I start coming up with all sorts of reasons why not.
Like I'm sick. Which I am but it's really not a good reason.
Or I'm in a rut and the pages are starting to look the same. And my parents so do not care if they all look the same BECAUSE THEY JUST WANT THE DAMN BOOK!!!
I'm going to go chug a bunch of soda because I hate coffee but caffeine is absolutely essential right now and go force myself to work on this album.
Right after this next 2 or 3 or 8 rounds of TriJong.
Who am I kidding? Not me! Because I know I'm lying.
Here it is again. Nearly the beginning of December and I have not finished my parents album for Christmas. Every year I make them a scrapbook of things we did the year before. Since they live on the other side of the country, it helps them keep up and the appreciate it.
I actually started in January, I just never bothered to finish it. So, now I'm rushing to complete that and the one for my brother since he also lives so far away. Oh, and the one I was making for a friend. All that I need to have finished by next week so I can still have enough time to finish Girl X's 2 that I planned for Christmas for her.
And am I working on it now while Baby X is sleeping and I could actually get some of it done?
Hell no.
Because? My time is better spent playing TriJong and reading Vietnamese God (under blogs of note!).
And because, as I believe I mentioned, I suck.
And ok, I could really go up and work on it now but then I start coming up with all sorts of reasons why not.
Like I'm sick. Which I am but it's really not a good reason.
Or I'm in a rut and the pages are starting to look the same. And my parents so do not care if they all look the same BECAUSE THEY JUST WANT THE DAMN BOOK!!!
I'm going to go chug a bunch of soda because I hate coffee but caffeine is absolutely essential right now and go force myself to work on this album.
Right after this next 2 or 3 or 8 rounds of TriJong.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Mixed Bag.........
So I had a couple of things to blog about today but my mind is all scattered and I don't really know where I want to go.
There's the fact that tomorrow will mark 6 years since my mother died. I don't know what to feel about it at this point. We had such a difficult relationship and I doubt that it ever would have improved. I hope I'm not like her. I don't seem to be, but those things can sneak up on you.
There's the fact that tomorrow, Ms Ok-love-you-bye-bye will descend and be in her holiday mode. Holiday mode is exhausting. At least to me. I'm going to have to steer her away from my kitchen and away from the clean-up and away from the leftovers and so on.
I still say that having to cook for them last year is the reason I went into labor the following week. A few weeks early. Poor kid. Scared out of the womb.
Or that Christmas is almost here. My favorite season! Mr X and I get way to into it. One year we ripped a piece of red cotton and stuck it in the fireplace. We told Girl X that Santa's suit got ripped when he went up the fireplace. She picked it up and just looked at it like it was gold. It's in her little hope chest. And this year Baby X will actually be able to enjoy all the lights and opening his own presents and pulling down the Christmas tree to get to the lights! Yay!
And then there is just all this other stuff rolling around up there in my head and I don't know. Maybe stuff for another day!
Well, time to check my liquour levels and get things ready for tomorrow.
Happy Thanksgiving!!
There's the fact that tomorrow will mark 6 years since my mother died. I don't know what to feel about it at this point. We had such a difficult relationship and I doubt that it ever would have improved. I hope I'm not like her. I don't seem to be, but those things can sneak up on you.
There's the fact that tomorrow, Ms Ok-love-you-bye-bye will descend and be in her holiday mode. Holiday mode is exhausting. At least to me. I'm going to have to steer her away from my kitchen and away from the clean-up and away from the leftovers and so on.
I still say that having to cook for them last year is the reason I went into labor the following week. A few weeks early. Poor kid. Scared out of the womb.
Or that Christmas is almost here. My favorite season! Mr X and I get way to into it. One year we ripped a piece of red cotton and stuck it in the fireplace. We told Girl X that Santa's suit got ripped when he went up the fireplace. She picked it up and just looked at it like it was gold. It's in her little hope chest. And this year Baby X will actually be able to enjoy all the lights and opening his own presents and pulling down the Christmas tree to get to the lights! Yay!
And then there is just all this other stuff rolling around up there in my head and I don't know. Maybe stuff for another day!
Well, time to check my liquour levels and get things ready for tomorrow.
Happy Thanksgiving!!
Monday, November 21, 2005
Random Thoughts for Today
*When I went to return the present my MIL gave Girl X, I realized that she knows nothing about my kid. The clothes were 2 sizes too big and not even remotely like anything Girl X would wear. I know it's the effort and yeah, I appreciate that she is trying. But after 6 years? I think she should at least know how to spell Girl X's name. Seriously, I could see if she had just met us, but 6 years and not even close?
*Macy's rocks.
*I took Baby X to get his one year pictures and Gah!!! Because he? Cut a tooth in the middle of his session. Still got a lot of great shots but for the 2nd time in less than a week he had a bloody mouth.
*In the catergory of 'I can't believe I'm going to admit this'.... Baby X beat me up. Ok, it's not really that bad but ouch! I have this gigantic purple and black bruise on my leg from where he kicked me. I can't count the ones from him pinching me because there are just to many. I could play connect the dots.
*Baby X? LOVES football! Girl X was sitting on the floor talking to Mr X when we heard it. *thumpthumpthumpthump* faster and faster and before Mr X could say 'What the?' Boom! Baby X lunged out of nowhere and knocked Girl X flat on her back! He laughed and climbed on to her tummy and started yelling like "HAHA!! I'm King of the Sister!" and oh my gosh! I lost it. I know it's not nice and really we should put a stop to this but it was just so random and where did he get that?? Thankfully, Girl X thought it was kind of funny too. But now we have to watch out whenever we're sitting on the floor or standing within range of him because he will fly at us and try to tackle us.
*Cat X hates to be tackled. Really hates me now too. I've pretty much guarenteed that I'm getting a lump of cat poo for Christmas if not sooner.
*Nobody notices when you sign the credit slip as Natasha Fatale. And if anyone gets that reference? Bonus points!
*Macy's rocks.
*I took Baby X to get his one year pictures and Gah!!! Because he? Cut a tooth in the middle of his session. Still got a lot of great shots but for the 2nd time in less than a week he had a bloody mouth.
*In the catergory of 'I can't believe I'm going to admit this'.... Baby X beat me up. Ok, it's not really that bad but ouch! I have this gigantic purple and black bruise on my leg from where he kicked me. I can't count the ones from him pinching me because there are just to many. I could play connect the dots.
*Baby X? LOVES football! Girl X was sitting on the floor talking to Mr X when we heard it. *thumpthumpthumpthump* faster and faster and before Mr X could say 'What the?' Boom! Baby X lunged out of nowhere and knocked Girl X flat on her back! He laughed and climbed on to her tummy and started yelling like "HAHA!! I'm King of the Sister!" and oh my gosh! I lost it. I know it's not nice and really we should put a stop to this but it was just so random and where did he get that?? Thankfully, Girl X thought it was kind of funny too. But now we have to watch out whenever we're sitting on the floor or standing within range of him because he will fly at us and try to tackle us.
*Cat X hates to be tackled. Really hates me now too. I've pretty much guarenteed that I'm getting a lump of cat poo for Christmas if not sooner.
*Nobody notices when you sign the credit slip as Natasha Fatale. And if anyone gets that reference? Bonus points!
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Happy Birthday Stinkerbelle....
She is 8. 8!!! I have an 8 year old daughter. I say this every year. Well, not the '8' part, but the basic 'how did that happen?'..... yeah. Because it just always surprises me. She is getting so big and so non-baby like.
Every time I think of her I see this:
That wide-eyed, take your breath away, 'I trust you completely' look. I love this picture. I remember the day she was born and it still makes me stop. I made the nurses let her sleep in my room that night. She kicked her feet out of her swaddle and had them hanging over the bassinet. She still can't sleep with her feet under covers. I remember leaving the next day in absolute horror that these people were letting me take her home. Me! What the hell did I know about babies? But they did. And we were ok.
I made this outfit for her. It was the first thing I ever made. I still have it tucked away in a box of special things that belong solely to her.
Oh Gosh! The way she used to laugh! Deep from the belly and unrestrained. All I had to do was wiggle my fingers as though I were about to tickle her.
Her first birthday.... Shortly after this picture she threw the cake on the floor and started freaking out because her hands were dirty!
My little buckethead. All those amazing toys we ran to buy her and her favorite toy? A bucket.
She is a sweet girl. Empathetic and smart. She loves her brother so much I can't even find the words for it and he? Adores her. She is his favorite 'toy'.
She can be so silly and then so serious.
And somehow, 8 years have gone by. I don't remember what life was really like before she was in it. 8 years and she's not a baby or even a little girl anymore.
I turn around now and see her and think 'wow'. All over again. Wow.
She has so much ahead of her. I want to guard her form her first heartbreak, I know I can't but I certainly want too. I think about her getting her license and wonder how I'm going to ever sleep again. I wonder what she'll do with her life. I wonder who she'll be.
In my head, she's that same little girl who insisted that she could touch the sky if I held her up far enough.
Reality? She's 8.
Every time I think of her I see this:
That wide-eyed, take your breath away, 'I trust you completely' look. I love this picture. I remember the day she was born and it still makes me stop. I made the nurses let her sleep in my room that night. She kicked her feet out of her swaddle and had them hanging over the bassinet. She still can't sleep with her feet under covers. I remember leaving the next day in absolute horror that these people were letting me take her home. Me! What the hell did I know about babies? But they did. And we were ok.
I made this outfit for her. It was the first thing I ever made. I still have it tucked away in a box of special things that belong solely to her.
Oh Gosh! The way she used to laugh! Deep from the belly and unrestrained. All I had to do was wiggle my fingers as though I were about to tickle her.
Her first birthday.... Shortly after this picture she threw the cake on the floor and started freaking out because her hands were dirty!
My little buckethead. All those amazing toys we ran to buy her and her favorite toy? A bucket.
She is a sweet girl. Empathetic and smart. She loves her brother so much I can't even find the words for it and he? Adores her. She is his favorite 'toy'.
She can be so silly and then so serious.
And somehow, 8 years have gone by. I don't remember what life was really like before she was in it. 8 years and she's not a baby or even a little girl anymore.
I turn around now and see her and think 'wow'. All over again. Wow.
She has so much ahead of her. I want to guard her form her first heartbreak, I know I can't but I certainly want too. I think about her getting her license and wonder how I'm going to ever sleep again. I wonder what she'll do with her life. I wonder who she'll be.
In my head, she's that same little girl who insisted that she could touch the sky if I held her up far enough.
Reality? She's 8.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Oh What The Holy Hell Was That About???
So, life is good. I mean really good. I've never been so out of this world, move-over-Tom-Cruise-you-psycho-couch-killer happy.
So why the hell did I just burst into tears for the second time today???
I was just sitting here playing TriJong (damn addicting games) and then boom! Tears. Everywhere. And for why????
I can't be crazy emotional lady again. I couldn't leave my house for weeks after Girl X was born and during my 2nd trimester because I'd just burst into tears at random moments. Like seriously just be standing there at the deli counter waiting my turn and then I'd just start crying. Not quiet, sniffle-sniffle-quickly-wipe-it-away-no-one-will-notice tears. No. Full on heaving sobs. The kind that make everyone around me stop and turn to look at me in horror because oh wow there is some strange lady having a breakdown in the middle of the deli!
And let me tell you, trying to ask for a pound of roast beef when you can't stop crying? Not fun. At least not for me. Maybe for you reading this story and maybe for the deli guy after I left, but not me. I almost choked trying to talk but I couldn't stop crying.
And then, like now, there was no reason for it.
So here I am. Happily going on my own way and the crying? Again?
Baby X is going to be a year old soon. How long do I have until I can't blame it on hormones anymore?
So why the hell did I just burst into tears for the second time today???
I was just sitting here playing TriJong (damn addicting games) and then boom! Tears. Everywhere. And for why????
I can't be crazy emotional lady again. I couldn't leave my house for weeks after Girl X was born and during my 2nd trimester because I'd just burst into tears at random moments. Like seriously just be standing there at the deli counter waiting my turn and then I'd just start crying. Not quiet, sniffle-sniffle-quickly-wipe-it-away-no-one-will-notice tears. No. Full on heaving sobs. The kind that make everyone around me stop and turn to look at me in horror because oh wow there is some strange lady having a breakdown in the middle of the deli!
And let me tell you, trying to ask for a pound of roast beef when you can't stop crying? Not fun. At least not for me. Maybe for you reading this story and maybe for the deli guy after I left, but not me. I almost choked trying to talk but I couldn't stop crying.
And then, like now, there was no reason for it.
So here I am. Happily going on my own way and the crying? Again?
Baby X is going to be a year old soon. How long do I have until I can't blame it on hormones anymore?
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Grateful.........
Someone e-mailed me about some of my posts. I'm not offended and it's totally ok. So, let me clarify.
I am endlessly grateful for what I have. I wouldn't trade a sleepless night or stained clothing for anything.
I don't have a job. I don't think of raising my kids as a job. It's one of those rare wonders in life. I get rewarded daily with grins, giggles, secrets from Girl X and that awesome little 'wow' from Baby X at each new discovery.
As adults, we tend to take those everyday things for granted. The way the air smells right before it rains in the summer. The bite of that first cold winter day on your nose. The sound of the leaves crunching under little boots. The power of the wind in the trees and the way it can make the grass dance. The feel of that grass under bare feet. The way play dough feels when you squish it in your fingers.
I get to see the world through my kids' eyes and all I can do is echo their 'wows'. My son can watch the grass dance and the caterpillars slowly make their way through the yard and it's just amazing. Suddenly I don't feel so tired and I don't mind that my clothes are wrinkled. I've got the meaning of my life in front of me and he's holding my hand.
My other reason for being is in school learning to read and do math and make friends and sing silly songs and sharing her lunch. Then she comes home and tells me all about it. There is so much she has to teach me and I don't take any of it for granted.
I like to kid about the lack of sleep, the clothing struggles, feeding battles and the normal attitude of an 8 year old want-to-know-it-all. But I love it. Every minute of it.
I am endlessly grateful for what I have. I wouldn't trade a sleepless night or stained clothing for anything.
I don't have a job. I don't think of raising my kids as a job. It's one of those rare wonders in life. I get rewarded daily with grins, giggles, secrets from Girl X and that awesome little 'wow' from Baby X at each new discovery.
As adults, we tend to take those everyday things for granted. The way the air smells right before it rains in the summer. The bite of that first cold winter day on your nose. The sound of the leaves crunching under little boots. The power of the wind in the trees and the way it can make the grass dance. The feel of that grass under bare feet. The way play dough feels when you squish it in your fingers.
I get to see the world through my kids' eyes and all I can do is echo their 'wows'. My son can watch the grass dance and the caterpillars slowly make their way through the yard and it's just amazing. Suddenly I don't feel so tired and I don't mind that my clothes are wrinkled. I've got the meaning of my life in front of me and he's holding my hand.
My other reason for being is in school learning to read and do math and make friends and sing silly songs and sharing her lunch. Then she comes home and tells me all about it. There is so much she has to teach me and I don't take any of it for granted.
I like to kid about the lack of sleep, the clothing struggles, feeding battles and the normal attitude of an 8 year old want-to-know-it-all. But I love it. Every minute of it.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Sleep?
It's official.
We have lost our minds.
We've spent nearly a year trying to teach Baby X to sleep through the night and every time he does? We wake up throughout the night to check on him because he hasn't woken up.
It had been awhile since Baby X slept through the night. He was working on popping out all of his teeth. He never got cranky during the day. He just wouldn't sleep all night.
So when he started doing it again last week, it was strange. I kept waking up and checking on him. I finally fell sound asleep at 3 am only to jump out of bed at 6:30 when I realized that I still hadn't heard from the little bugger.
Did you know that if you go running into a baby's room screaming their name they wake up?
Well, let me tell you, they do. And they get mighty pissed off at you for daring to disturb their sleep! Forget about going back to sleep after that. You are now doomed to a day of Sesame Street and patty cake.
This is insane! I slept better when he was waking me up at least once a night.
I vaguely remember something about this when Girl X was a baby. I think she was 4 before I started sleeping through the night again.
We're pathetic.
Mr X went to check on him before he left for work the other day since Baby X used to get up when Mr X did. At 4 am. Yeah. I'm not at my best at 4 am.
"Mrs X, baby is awake"
"Take him outside."
"Take the baby outside?"
"Take that whiny ass dog outside and quit bugging me."
"No, the baby is awake not the dog."
"Tell him to quit bugging me too."
I am so not a morning person. I thought it would be great when Baby X started sleeping through the night because hey! Sleep! I remember what it feels like to get a good night's sleep! I remember what it's like to not feel like crawling back into bed at 9 am to sleep until 2.
I guess I just didn't expect to have to train myself to sleep through the night now that Baby X is.
We have lost our minds.
We've spent nearly a year trying to teach Baby X to sleep through the night and every time he does? We wake up throughout the night to check on him because he hasn't woken up.
It had been awhile since Baby X slept through the night. He was working on popping out all of his teeth. He never got cranky during the day. He just wouldn't sleep all night.
So when he started doing it again last week, it was strange. I kept waking up and checking on him. I finally fell sound asleep at 3 am only to jump out of bed at 6:30 when I realized that I still hadn't heard from the little bugger.
Did you know that if you go running into a baby's room screaming their name they wake up?
Well, let me tell you, they do. And they get mighty pissed off at you for daring to disturb their sleep! Forget about going back to sleep after that. You are now doomed to a day of Sesame Street and patty cake.
This is insane! I slept better when he was waking me up at least once a night.
I vaguely remember something about this when Girl X was a baby. I think she was 4 before I started sleeping through the night again.
We're pathetic.
Mr X went to check on him before he left for work the other day since Baby X used to get up when Mr X did. At 4 am. Yeah. I'm not at my best at 4 am.
"Mrs X, baby is awake"
"Take him outside."
"Take the baby outside?"
"Take that whiny ass dog outside and quit bugging me."
"No, the baby is awake not the dog."
"Tell him to quit bugging me too."
I am so not a morning person. I thought it would be great when Baby X started sleeping through the night because hey! Sleep! I remember what it feels like to get a good night's sleep! I remember what it's like to not feel like crawling back into bed at 9 am to sleep until 2.
I guess I just didn't expect to have to train myself to sleep through the night now that Baby X is.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Do you smell smoke?
Flashback time!
It was about 1985 and my parents went out for the evening and left my sister in charge for the very first time. It had taken much begging and the fact that no decent babysitter within a 20 mile radius would would stay on the phone the moment they said our names (a point which filled us with great pride). We were infamous!
Our house was old, built in the later end of the 1800's. There weren't many cabinets in the kitchen and very few places to keep the amount of snacks we savages went through in a week. Out of desperation, our parents kept a lot of our stash in the oven.
My parents left for the evening and we promptly ignored my sister's pleas to be good and began plotting what to destroy first. We had settled on boiling some old 8 tracks when my sister suggested dinner first.
It started off ok. Frozen pizza..... how bad could it be?
We sat around the table waiting for our pizza and debating on whether boiling the 8 tracks would work or if we'd have to stick them in the oven when the pizza was done.
"Do you smell smoke?"
I thought we were just burning the pizza but when we opened the oven a few small flames jumped out. My sister had missed a cellophane wrapped bag of chocolate covered pretzels in the back of the oven.
I screamed, my brothers both ran for the fire extinguisher and my sister ran to her room.
My brothers fought over who got to put out the fire and I ran next door to tell our neighbors that our house was on fire.
My younger brother won the argument when he agreed to let my older brother get first pick on in his Christmas presents.
The little bit of fire that was there could have been put out with just a squirt but being the little hellions that we were, one squirt was not going to cut it. Fire extinguishers smell awful! Emptying a fire extinguisher on a tiny fire? Really awful!
I wonder what my parents first thought when they pulled up and saw the fire department outside their house. I wonder what they thought when I came up and said 'It wasn't me' or when my younger brother came up and said 'There isn't any real damage!'
I wonder what they were thinking when they left us alone again!
It was about 1985 and my parents went out for the evening and left my sister in charge for the very first time. It had taken much begging and the fact that no decent babysitter within a 20 mile radius would would stay on the phone the moment they said our names (a point which filled us with great pride). We were infamous!
Our house was old, built in the later end of the 1800's. There weren't many cabinets in the kitchen and very few places to keep the amount of snacks we savages went through in a week. Out of desperation, our parents kept a lot of our stash in the oven.
My parents left for the evening and we promptly ignored my sister's pleas to be good and began plotting what to destroy first. We had settled on boiling some old 8 tracks when my sister suggested dinner first.
It started off ok. Frozen pizza..... how bad could it be?
We sat around the table waiting for our pizza and debating on whether boiling the 8 tracks would work or if we'd have to stick them in the oven when the pizza was done.
"Do you smell smoke?"
I thought we were just burning the pizza but when we opened the oven a few small flames jumped out. My sister had missed a cellophane wrapped bag of chocolate covered pretzels in the back of the oven.
I screamed, my brothers both ran for the fire extinguisher and my sister ran to her room.
My brothers fought over who got to put out the fire and I ran next door to tell our neighbors that our house was on fire.
My younger brother won the argument when he agreed to let my older brother get first pick on in his Christmas presents.
The little bit of fire that was there could have been put out with just a squirt but being the little hellions that we were, one squirt was not going to cut it. Fire extinguishers smell awful! Emptying a fire extinguisher on a tiny fire? Really awful!
I wonder what my parents first thought when they pulled up and saw the fire department outside their house. I wonder what they thought when I came up and said 'It wasn't me' or when my younger brother came up and said 'There isn't any real damage!'
I wonder what they were thinking when they left us alone again!
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Heavy
Girl X has been asking a lot of questions about death lately. We had gotten her off the subject for sometime, but it's back.
She will be turning 8 (8! when the hell did that happen??) next week.
Isn't this a little heavy for an 8 year old??? When I was 8 I was thinking about how to get back at my brother for blowing the head off my barbie doll with his bb gun. (Little bastard!) Girl X? She wants to discuss where Heaven is and how did G-d make the world? And why do things have to age? Why do years pass? Why do we get old? Why doesn't G-d want us to stay young? What happens to my body when I die?
And being that sort of parent who wants to do things just the opposite of mine, meaning tell her the truth, I am trying. But it's really hard and I don't want her to dwell on it. I don't want her to get so wrapped up in worrying about what comes next that she forgets about this lifetime because hey. It can be pretty damn great.
I blame Mr X a little bit for this.
He took her to the park one day and to get there, he had to pass a cemetary. She asked what it was. She was maybe 4. All he had to do was say a cemetary. If she asked further, ok, a little explanation. But damn! What he told her? I had nightmares. And she didn't get it. All she got was that there would be no more mom and dad and friends and toys and M&M's? Nope.
Personally, I think there must be M&M's in Heaven because there is no more perfect food that M&M's.
He meant well, he just forgot that she was 4. And easily scared.
So, when they came home and she was crying I had to sit with her and talk about G-d and why it wasn't bad. No, we weren't in a hurry to get there but it was ok.
She accepted this and for the most part, it's ok.
But every now and then she slips one of those questions in on me and it throws me for a loop.
I wish she'd give me more of those goofy questions. Like whether or not fish fart (they do, sort of). Or if cows speak human when we're not around to listen.
When she had her tooth pulled the other week? I said how cool it would be when the tooth fairy came and gave her a surprise. She said she thought fairies weren't real. Then she asked if they were. What could I do? I told her the truth (which, really? getting harder and harder the older she gets). That it's fun to pretend the tooth fairy is real and don't spoil it for the other kids. She wasn't upset. She asked if we could keep pretending too and we did.
Next she's going to ask me if Santa is real. I don't want to answer that yet! Let her have one more year believing in Santa before that childhood magic is gone too! We have always made such a big deal about Christmas. One year we stuck a piece of red cloth in the fire place grate and told her Santa's suit got caught in it. Her eyes were huge! She held that piece of cloth as if it were gold. She whispered 'wow' in total awe. It was amazing and one of my favorite moments. I'll never forget that 'wow'. That wonder.
My girl is getting older and soon, I'm going to have to face it. For today, I'm going to hold her in my lap one more moment. One more moment before she's too big or tells me how uncool that would be.
She will be turning 8 (8! when the hell did that happen??) next week.
Isn't this a little heavy for an 8 year old??? When I was 8 I was thinking about how to get back at my brother for blowing the head off my barbie doll with his bb gun. (Little bastard!) Girl X? She wants to discuss where Heaven is and how did G-d make the world? And why do things have to age? Why do years pass? Why do we get old? Why doesn't G-d want us to stay young? What happens to my body when I die?
And being that sort of parent who wants to do things just the opposite of mine, meaning tell her the truth, I am trying. But it's really hard and I don't want her to dwell on it. I don't want her to get so wrapped up in worrying about what comes next that she forgets about this lifetime because hey. It can be pretty damn great.
I blame Mr X a little bit for this.
He took her to the park one day and to get there, he had to pass a cemetary. She asked what it was. She was maybe 4. All he had to do was say a cemetary. If she asked further, ok, a little explanation. But damn! What he told her? I had nightmares. And she didn't get it. All she got was that there would be no more mom and dad and friends and toys and M&M's? Nope.
Personally, I think there must be M&M's in Heaven because there is no more perfect food that M&M's.
He meant well, he just forgot that she was 4. And easily scared.
So, when they came home and she was crying I had to sit with her and talk about G-d and why it wasn't bad. No, we weren't in a hurry to get there but it was ok.
She accepted this and for the most part, it's ok.
But every now and then she slips one of those questions in on me and it throws me for a loop.
I wish she'd give me more of those goofy questions. Like whether or not fish fart (they do, sort of). Or if cows speak human when we're not around to listen.
When she had her tooth pulled the other week? I said how cool it would be when the tooth fairy came and gave her a surprise. She said she thought fairies weren't real. Then she asked if they were. What could I do? I told her the truth (which, really? getting harder and harder the older she gets). That it's fun to pretend the tooth fairy is real and don't spoil it for the other kids. She wasn't upset. She asked if we could keep pretending too and we did.
Next she's going to ask me if Santa is real. I don't want to answer that yet! Let her have one more year believing in Santa before that childhood magic is gone too! We have always made such a big deal about Christmas. One year we stuck a piece of red cloth in the fire place grate and told her Santa's suit got caught in it. Her eyes were huge! She held that piece of cloth as if it were gold. She whispered 'wow' in total awe. It was amazing and one of my favorite moments. I'll never forget that 'wow'. That wonder.
My girl is getting older and soon, I'm going to have to face it. For today, I'm going to hold her in my lap one more moment. One more moment before she's too big or tells me how uncool that would be.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
You Fool!!!
I had a physical therapy appointment today for my hand. I've been going for about 2 months now and it's slowly getting better. Meaning I can bend my wrist without screaming my head off. Baby X has to come with me because everyone I know either works or is my mother-in-law and anything left with my mother-in-law? Never seen again. And I've become pretty attached to Baby X. He's cute, he seems to like me and I have that whole room set up for him so yeah. I don't want to lose him amid Miss ok-love-you-bye-bye's massive pile-oh-crap.
Anyway, since I'm getting off track and did you notice that I do that a lot? Because I do. Like right now? I forgot what I was going to tell you. Oh right, physical therapy.
So, Baby X goes with me and it's lovely. He is such an easy going little squirt. He's one of those babies where you hate the mom because he rarely cries. It's not uncommon for him to go an entire day without a fuss. Yeah, ok. You can hate me now too.
He sits in his stroller and plays and flirts and eats those Gerber Fruit puffs and talks to his pointy finger (and I think the pointy finger talks back) and all is well. Since my appointments take an hour, this is really cool. And I get to talk to a real live human adult. And she actually talks back and does not ask me for things like Bratz dolls (so damn ugly) or diaper changes. She did ask though that I stop offering her Fruit Puffs and talking to her in that higher toned baby speak. And she's nice! Did I mention I get to talk to another living breathing Adult???? Yeah. So nice.
Today before I left I thought it would be nice if I actually wore clothes that did not say maternity on them or had spit up on them or marker. Or mashed fruit puffs. I thought I'd leave the house looking like I'd actually taken time to put on something I hadn't been sleeping in.
Ok, it was just jeans and a nice shirt (read clean and unstained) but wow! I felt human. There was no maternity label on the pants or shirt. No holes. It matched.
I was all pleased with myself. I packed up the diaper bag and picked up Baby X. I had just enough time to get to my appointment. I ran out to my car to strap in Baby X.
And then the inevitable happened.
Baby X spit up on me. All over my nice (read clean and previously unstained) shirt.
What was I thinking?
Anyway, since I'm getting off track and did you notice that I do that a lot? Because I do. Like right now? I forgot what I was going to tell you. Oh right, physical therapy.
So, Baby X goes with me and it's lovely. He is such an easy going little squirt. He's one of those babies where you hate the mom because he rarely cries. It's not uncommon for him to go an entire day without a fuss. Yeah, ok. You can hate me now too.
He sits in his stroller and plays and flirts and eats those Gerber Fruit puffs and talks to his pointy finger (and I think the pointy finger talks back) and all is well. Since my appointments take an hour, this is really cool. And I get to talk to a real live human adult. And she actually talks back and does not ask me for things like Bratz dolls (so damn ugly) or diaper changes. She did ask though that I stop offering her Fruit Puffs and talking to her in that higher toned baby speak. And she's nice! Did I mention I get to talk to another living breathing Adult???? Yeah. So nice.
Today before I left I thought it would be nice if I actually wore clothes that did not say maternity on them or had spit up on them or marker. Or mashed fruit puffs. I thought I'd leave the house looking like I'd actually taken time to put on something I hadn't been sleeping in.
Ok, it was just jeans and a nice shirt (read clean and unstained) but wow! I felt human. There was no maternity label on the pants or shirt. No holes. It matched.
I was all pleased with myself. I packed up the diaper bag and picked up Baby X. I had just enough time to get to my appointment. I ran out to my car to strap in Baby X.
And then the inevitable happened.
Baby X spit up on me. All over my nice (read clean and previously unstained) shirt.
What was I thinking?
Monday, November 07, 2005
I'm a Genious!!
Ok, so I know I'm totally not a genious, but hey... I'm feeling like it right now. Why? Because look over on the right! See that? There are links! Links to other blogs I procrastinate with! Links that I put there All By Myself!!
Woo-hoo!
Woo-hoo!
Friday, November 04, 2005
Ick! I Forever Don't..........
There are some commercials that are just so damn annoying they make your skin crawl everytime they air.
Even Dog X has a few that make him howl- literally. Sleep Country USA never fails to turn him into a raging Haller Monkey.
For me, ok there are a lot, but the one that's really annoying me right now is that one stupid jeweler commercial where the guy has his wife in some courtyard and tells her he'd marry her all over again and then she realizes that oh!, her whole family is there and wow he really means it. Awww..... how sweet, right? Yack! And the tagline? This year, tell her you forever do. Because really, the first time you said 'I do' you added 'for the next 3-5 years or until I get really bored' right?
Telling her that you weren't serious before but now that you've had a couple kids and you see nothing else is coming along? Ahh, what the hell honey, "I forever do!"
Couldn't they come up with something better?
Like.........
This year, tell her you're even for using her irish linen she inherited from her great-grandmother to clean your greasy tools at work.
Or.....
This year, make up for shrinking all her best clothes because you can't read labels.
*side note* I've pretty much forgiven Mr X by now for the above and he's vowed to never touch my wash again.*
I do love that Diet cherry vanilla Dr pepper commercial though. Where the woman is on a date and he's rambling on and she just starts singing that Manamana song. Love that. I wander through my day singing that in my head and only occasionally out loud.
Even Dog X has a few that make him howl- literally. Sleep Country USA never fails to turn him into a raging Haller Monkey.
For me, ok there are a lot, but the one that's really annoying me right now is that one stupid jeweler commercial where the guy has his wife in some courtyard and tells her he'd marry her all over again and then she realizes that oh!, her whole family is there and wow he really means it. Awww..... how sweet, right? Yack! And the tagline? This year, tell her you forever do. Because really, the first time you said 'I do' you added 'for the next 3-5 years or until I get really bored' right?
Telling her that you weren't serious before but now that you've had a couple kids and you see nothing else is coming along? Ahh, what the hell honey, "I forever do!"
Couldn't they come up with something better?
Like.........
This year, tell her you're even for using her irish linen she inherited from her great-grandmother to clean your greasy tools at work.
Or.....
This year, make up for shrinking all her best clothes because you can't read labels.
*side note* I've pretty much forgiven Mr X by now for the above and he's vowed to never touch my wash again.*
I do love that Diet cherry vanilla Dr pepper commercial though. Where the woman is on a date and he's rambling on and she just starts singing that Manamana song. Love that. I wander through my day singing that in my head and only occasionally out loud.
It's a BOY!!
Every day the sun will rise and set, the tide will ebb and flow, some politician somewhere will say something stupid. And without fail, each week I will have the following conversation...........
Some random stranger- "What a beautiful little girl you have!"
Me- "Boy"
SRS- "Boy what?"
Me- "He's a boy."
SRS- "Really?"
What the hell is that?? Like, maybe I've been mistaken for the past 11 months and that's not a penis? Am I now supposed to take off his diaper to prove it to you? Because that's not going to happen.
I don't really care that they think he's a girl (Even though he's dressed in blue covered in airplanes and I'm calling him by his very boy-only name), it's that they argue with me about it.
Does he really look like a girl to you???
Some random stranger- "What a beautiful little girl you have!"
Me- "Boy"
SRS- "Boy what?"
Me- "He's a boy."
SRS- "Really?"
What the hell is that?? Like, maybe I've been mistaken for the past 11 months and that's not a penis? Am I now supposed to take off his diaper to prove it to you? Because that's not going to happen.
I don't really care that they think he's a girl (Even though he's dressed in blue covered in airplanes and I'm calling him by his very boy-only name), it's that they argue with me about it.
Does he really look like a girl to you???
Thursday, November 03, 2005
November is a special month
I'd like to interupt my usual posting to take a moment and explain why November is so special to me.
November is Prematurity Awareness month.
Prematurity is the #1 killer of newborns. Each year nearly half a million babies must struggle for survival because they were born too soon.
It can happen to anyone. There is no rhyme or reason. The costs, both financially and emotionally, are extraordinary.
So what can you do?
Visit www.marchofdimes.com . Right on the front page is a little notice that medimmune will donate $1 everytime someone clicks on the link. It will only take you a moment. It won't cost you a thing. If you feel brave, read some of the information they have, or even more brave, some of the stories.
If you're really feeling generous, donate to one the many bands on the site made in honor of or in memory of a very special baby. Or make one of your own. http://www.marchofdimes.com/prematurity/how_help_srch_res.asp
November is Prematurity Awareness month.
Prematurity is the #1 killer of newborns. Each year nearly half a million babies must struggle for survival because they were born too soon.
It can happen to anyone. There is no rhyme or reason. The costs, both financially and emotionally, are extraordinary.
So what can you do?
Visit www.marchofdimes.com . Right on the front page is a little notice that medimmune will donate $1 everytime someone clicks on the link. It will only take you a moment. It won't cost you a thing. If you feel brave, read some of the information they have, or even more brave, some of the stories.
If you're really feeling generous, donate to one the many bands on the site made in honor of or in memory of a very special baby. Or make one of your own. http://www.marchofdimes.com/prematurity/how_help_srch_res.asp
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
How to Bathe your Mobile Baby
It's time for another episode of "what the hell have I gotten myself in too?"
Bath time. Ah yes, good times. Good times.
We haven't really done bath time since Baby X was 6 weeks old and I thought, 'Hey bath time! That's fun! Let's do it.' The instant the water touched his skin he screamed so loud and shrilly the dogs on our block began to howl! Yeah. So. Bath time was just not going to happen like that again, because really, I love to be able to hear. And by that I mean hear something other than the ringing that lasted for several hours after the bath.
Why don't I remember this from when Girl X was a baby? Because when she was that small I made her take showers with me because even then, I liked to be able to hear. By the time she was to big to hold in the shower, she was cubby enough not to feel arctic during baths.
So, for 11 months Baby x has taken a shower, and loved it. At first it was with me because he was tiny and Mr X was terrified of holding anyone so tiny and breakable. The first time in the shower, he fell asleep. I'm washing his hair, and he fell asleep. Awwwww..... At least it was 'Awwww' until I took him out of the shower and wrapped him in a towel.
When he got to big for me to hold, Mr X took him in with him. It worked well for us. Baby X got clean and we kept our hearing.
But he is nearly 11 months old. So..... bath time. Right?
Uh-huh.
Step 1- Gather all bathing supplies. Tub, washcloth, towel, hand towel (for your knees when you're kneeling on the floor begging baby to please not throw the ducky at you again), baby wash and toys.
Step 2- after sticking baby tub to bottom of big tub, fill with mildly warm water and toys. Announce to Baby X that it's bath time.
Step 3- Pull Baby X out from underneath your bed where he went to hide upon hearing the words 'bath' and 'time' spoken in reference to him. See Cat laughing at you. Remind yourself to set Baby X loose on him later.
Step 4- attempt to undress Baby X. *Refer to How To Dress Your Mobile Baby- and imagine it in reverse. October archives, 'shake it off'*
Step 5- Call for help from Mr X.
Step 6- 20 minutes have passed before you can get Baby X undressed and the water is now cold. Empty tub and refill with warm water.
Step 7- track down Baby X in your room. Grin evilly when you notice he is sitting on Cat. Payback is a bare baby butt on your head.
Step 8- After placing Baby in the tub, sitting upright in the seat, hand him a rubber ducky which he promptly throws at your head. And then laughs hysterically.
Step 9- After foolishly giving back the ducky, 9 times, realize you aren't going to win and remove the ducky from his reach.
Step 10- Wet Baby's hair with a cup. Tell him to stop trying to drink the bath water. Giggle when he manages to lift one eyebrow at you ala The Rock.
Step 11- Wash hair. Work up such a good lather that it becomes imperative to shape Baby X's hair into various hair-dos. Horns, spikes, side waves and a mohawk. Rock on little dude!
Step 12- Take washcloth and begin to try to wash Baby.
Step 13- Pry washcloth from baby X's hand and wash arm.
Step 14- Repeat step 13 until all parts have been washed.
Step 15- Sputter as baby X figures out that slamming his hands down makes the water go everywhere. Like in your face and mouth.
Step 16- In a desperate attempt to get Baby X to stop splashing, return rubber ducky.
Step 17- Quickly begin to rinse Baby X, dodging the flying duck as you go.
Step 18- Sigh and resign yourself to getting soaked when Baby X learns it's fun to slam the Ducky into the water and really make mommy wet.
Step 19- Lift Baby X from the water and wrap up into a big fluffy towel.
Step 20- Giggle at his monster face and grab a towel to dry yourself off a bit as well.
Step 21- Refer to *How to Change/Dress Your Mobile Baby*
Step 22- Pass Baby X to Mr X and pass out from sheer exhaustion and swear that you are never doing that again.
30 minutes prep time (includes undressing the monster), 30 minutes to dry both of you and get him dressed, 10 minutes to clean up. All for the 2 minutes it actually took me to wash him.
Bath time. Ah yes, good times. Good times.
We haven't really done bath time since Baby X was 6 weeks old and I thought, 'Hey bath time! That's fun! Let's do it.' The instant the water touched his skin he screamed so loud and shrilly the dogs on our block began to howl! Yeah. So. Bath time was just not going to happen like that again, because really, I love to be able to hear. And by that I mean hear something other than the ringing that lasted for several hours after the bath.
Why don't I remember this from when Girl X was a baby? Because when she was that small I made her take showers with me because even then, I liked to be able to hear. By the time she was to big to hold in the shower, she was cubby enough not to feel arctic during baths.
So, for 11 months Baby x has taken a shower, and loved it. At first it was with me because he was tiny and Mr X was terrified of holding anyone so tiny and breakable. The first time in the shower, he fell asleep. I'm washing his hair, and he fell asleep. Awwwww..... At least it was 'Awwww' until I took him out of the shower and wrapped him in a towel.
When he got to big for me to hold, Mr X took him in with him. It worked well for us. Baby X got clean and we kept our hearing.
But he is nearly 11 months old. So..... bath time. Right?
Uh-huh.
Step 1- Gather all bathing supplies. Tub, washcloth, towel, hand towel (for your knees when you're kneeling on the floor begging baby to please not throw the ducky at you again), baby wash and toys.
Step 2- after sticking baby tub to bottom of big tub, fill with mildly warm water and toys. Announce to Baby X that it's bath time.
Step 3- Pull Baby X out from underneath your bed where he went to hide upon hearing the words 'bath' and 'time' spoken in reference to him. See Cat laughing at you. Remind yourself to set Baby X loose on him later.
Step 4- attempt to undress Baby X. *Refer to How To Dress Your Mobile Baby- and imagine it in reverse. October archives, 'shake it off'*
Step 5- Call for help from Mr X.
Step 6- 20 minutes have passed before you can get Baby X undressed and the water is now cold. Empty tub and refill with warm water.
Step 7- track down Baby X in your room. Grin evilly when you notice he is sitting on Cat. Payback is a bare baby butt on your head.
Step 8- After placing Baby in the tub, sitting upright in the seat, hand him a rubber ducky which he promptly throws at your head. And then laughs hysterically.
Step 9- After foolishly giving back the ducky, 9 times, realize you aren't going to win and remove the ducky from his reach.
Step 10- Wet Baby's hair with a cup. Tell him to stop trying to drink the bath water. Giggle when he manages to lift one eyebrow at you ala The Rock.
Step 11- Wash hair. Work up such a good lather that it becomes imperative to shape Baby X's hair into various hair-dos. Horns, spikes, side waves and a mohawk. Rock on little dude!
Step 12- Take washcloth and begin to try to wash Baby.
Step 13- Pry washcloth from baby X's hand and wash arm.
Step 14- Repeat step 13 until all parts have been washed.
Step 15- Sputter as baby X figures out that slamming his hands down makes the water go everywhere. Like in your face and mouth.
Step 16- In a desperate attempt to get Baby X to stop splashing, return rubber ducky.
Step 17- Quickly begin to rinse Baby X, dodging the flying duck as you go.
Step 18- Sigh and resign yourself to getting soaked when Baby X learns it's fun to slam the Ducky into the water and really make mommy wet.
Step 19- Lift Baby X from the water and wrap up into a big fluffy towel.
Step 20- Giggle at his monster face and grab a towel to dry yourself off a bit as well.
Step 21- Refer to *How to Change/Dress Your Mobile Baby*
Step 22- Pass Baby X to Mr X and pass out from sheer exhaustion and swear that you are never doing that again.
30 minutes prep time (includes undressing the monster), 30 minutes to dry both of you and get him dressed, 10 minutes to clean up. All for the 2 minutes it actually took me to wash him.
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