"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.

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.

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.

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?!!??!?!

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.

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.

"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"

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."

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.

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

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'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.

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.

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.

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.

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!!

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!

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.

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?

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.