OK, so my husband is funny, a little goofy, and often has an immature sense of humor (you know I'm right), which is usually ok with me because he just cracks me up. So, here's an example of a running joke in our house and how it made a wrong turn last weekend...
About a year ago, Matt picked up the lovely habit of turning everything I say into a "your mom..." statement. Some examples might include the following:
Me: "Will you put this in the oven?"
Matt: "Your mom's gonna put it in the oven."
Me: "Is this too cold?"
Matt: "Your mom's too cold."
Sometimes, these statements are just random and don't make any sense. Every once in awhile, they turn out to be really funny or most often disturbing.
Last Saturday, I hosted my mom's side of the family for Thanksgiving. At the dining room table with me are my mom, my grandma, my uncle, my cousin-in-law and her teenage son. I'm talking to my cousin-in-law and her son. He interjects something that I can't hear. She rolls her eyes and tells me how her son has started adding some phrase to the end of his sentences. Hmmm. Sounds familiar. So, my husband has the same sense of humor as this high school senior!
I try to describe to her Matt's "your mom" habit. To which, my mom pipes up from the end of the table. "That's a good thing, right?" "Uh, sure, Mom!" So, I'm trying to think of an example off the cuff. (I can't think off the cuff.) So, I dig my fork into my plate, pick up a bite and say as way of an example, "this tastes good"!
When I realize my mistake, I'm pretty sure my face turned a lovely hue of red and I followed up with, "uh, nevermind". Awkward!
I have to admit, that I have also picked up the habit. I find myself most often saying it in my head to Elliot. This, of course, is lame (your mom's lame) since I am the mom in question. However, it worked out to my benefit once when Elliot asked me if something was thin enough. Aha! I literally jumped up and cheered for myself over that one! Honestly, what's wrong with me?
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Size Matters
I've been hemming a pair of pants this week. There's no reason it's taken me a week, other than the fact that I'm a procrastinator. In fact, I planned on working on them tonight and here I sit on the computer. Hmmm! The reason I'm hemming a pair of pants is that I went to Target last weekend and bought some new clothes. Yeah, me!
Here's my dilemma. Not all of Target's (nor many stores) women's pants are available in varied lengths. Even when they are available in different lengths, I still end up in a quandary. Point in case: I purchased a pair of exercise pants, which were available in "short", "average" and "long" lengths. I held the "average" up to my waist and the legs went about 4 inches past my foot. I held up the "short" and they hit me right at the ankle. I looked at the tag and it said the "short" pants are for women 5'3" and under. I am 5'3". So, I'm right on the cusp of being too tall for "short" pants. Since I know these pants will be laundered on a regular basis, I'm afraid that they're going to shrink and I don't have any room to spare. I went ahead and bought the "short" pair because 1) I refuse to hem exercise pants and 2) I plan to wash them on cold and hang them to dry (fingers crossed that they don't get mixed in with the regular load)!
I also bought a pair of slacks. These were not available in different lengths, but they looked cute (after I turned them hem under in the dressing room and stood on my toes to get a good idea of what they would look like) and they were a reasonable price. So, these are the pants that I'm hemming. I had to take off 4 inches.
So, while I'm hemming my pants in bed lying next to Matt, he asks, "why didn't you just buy shorter pants?" I start explaining this scenario to him and he's not getting it. It occurs to me that he thinks women's pants are sized like men's--with a waist size and an inseam length. They're not. Why not? Women's clothing sizes are ridiculous! You never know what size you are from one store to another or even one brand to another within the same store (i.e. Target).
On this same shopping trip, I bought some new undies. Here's another sizing dilemma. These sizes don't mesh with women's pant sizes. So, if you're a size 6 in pants, you might be a size 7 or 8 in undies. Of course, you don't want to try them on, so what are you supposed to do? I bought 5 pairs. I came home and before I cut off the tags, I tried on a pair over my own, right? Like swimsuit shopping? They fit. All is good! I cut the tags off and wash them all. Yesterday, I wore one of the new pairs. They fit like a glove. Perfect! I wear another pair today...tight in all the wrong places. What the...? That's never a pleasant experience and I can't do anything about it now!
Here's my dilemma. Not all of Target's (nor many stores) women's pants are available in varied lengths. Even when they are available in different lengths, I still end up in a quandary. Point in case: I purchased a pair of exercise pants, which were available in "short", "average" and "long" lengths. I held the "average" up to my waist and the legs went about 4 inches past my foot. I held up the "short" and they hit me right at the ankle. I looked at the tag and it said the "short" pants are for women 5'3" and under. I am 5'3". So, I'm right on the cusp of being too tall for "short" pants. Since I know these pants will be laundered on a regular basis, I'm afraid that they're going to shrink and I don't have any room to spare. I went ahead and bought the "short" pair because 1) I refuse to hem exercise pants and 2) I plan to wash them on cold and hang them to dry (fingers crossed that they don't get mixed in with the regular load)!
I also bought a pair of slacks. These were not available in different lengths, but they looked cute (after I turned them hem under in the dressing room and stood on my toes to get a good idea of what they would look like) and they were a reasonable price. So, these are the pants that I'm hemming. I had to take off 4 inches.
So, while I'm hemming my pants in bed lying next to Matt, he asks, "why didn't you just buy shorter pants?" I start explaining this scenario to him and he's not getting it. It occurs to me that he thinks women's pants are sized like men's--with a waist size and an inseam length. They're not. Why not? Women's clothing sizes are ridiculous! You never know what size you are from one store to another or even one brand to another within the same store (i.e. Target).
On this same shopping trip, I bought some new undies. Here's another sizing dilemma. These sizes don't mesh with women's pant sizes. So, if you're a size 6 in pants, you might be a size 7 or 8 in undies. Of course, you don't want to try them on, so what are you supposed to do? I bought 5 pairs. I came home and before I cut off the tags, I tried on a pair over my own, right? Like swimsuit shopping? They fit. All is good! I cut the tags off and wash them all. Yesterday, I wore one of the new pairs. They fit like a glove. Perfect! I wear another pair today...tight in all the wrong places. What the...? That's never a pleasant experience and I can't do anything about it now!
Friday, November 12, 2010
Brains over Braun
Matt and I are equally earnest in our organization efforts around the house. We like for everything to have a proper home and we work to keep everything in it's place as much as possible. We're not always successful (by a long shot), but it's a goal. In the spring, we take down all the summer play equipment that was stored for the winter....bikes, bike trailer, slides, etc. Since these things take over the garage, Matt parks his car in the driveway for the summer. Once it starts getting cold, we pack everything up for the winter, so Matt can keep his car in the garage again. He's not a fan of scraping ice off his windows or digging his car out of snow drifts at 5am and I don't blame him.
We cleaned out the garage last weekend, hanging the bikes from the ceiling for the winter and packing up everything else in the shed. He still couldn't pull his car in, though because our collection of car seats and strollers remained without homes. We collected more of them last year and suffered through juggling them, tripping over them, and playing musical car seat/stroller all last winter. We didn't want to do that again. So, I decided we needed to purchase a shelf for the carseats and hooks for the strollers to get them up off the floor and out of the way.
So, yesterday was the day. Avery and I went to the grocery in the morning before Ethan arrived, so the morning was spent putting groceries away while the kids played. After lunch, I loaded the little ones up (using one of the extra car seats for Ethan) and the double stroller because Home Depot doesn't have carts that seat two little people. Do you see the need for extra car seats and strollers, folks? (a shout-out to the friends and family who have loaned some of those to us...thanks again for enabling me to get out of the house!)
So, I'm at Home Depot, kids in double stroller reading books (aw! everyone oohs and aahs as we enter the store). I load up the basket of the stroller with all the parts of the two storage systems that will fit. Then, I scout out an employee to help me get the bigger items to the front of the store for checkout. I drop almost $200 on storage (ouch!). A nice gentleman helps me load everything in the van and then I have to figure out where the stroller is going to go. I get the kids strapped in and snap the cutest picture of them holding hands! (If only I could figure out how to get pics from my phone onto my computer.)
Once we're home, it's nap time. I get the kids down and head out to the garage to hang my new storage systems. The shelf is to hang on the wall along side where I park the van. I'm careful to ensure that the shelf is going to be high enough that Matt won't crack his skull on it when he gets out of the van (see how nice I am?). This shelving system requires me to hang a 7 foot brace horizontally; attaching it directly to studs. Then, a set of metal standards attach to the brace and hang vertically. Those will also be screwed to the studs. These standards hold the brackets that hold the shelf. Got it? This system is reminding me a lot of the olden days when I worked in retail. Same setup.
So, here's me, all by myself with a 7 foot piece of metal that I'm trying to hang in a level line 8 feet off the ground. How is this supposed to work? I can't hold it level and attach it to a stud at the same time. I have the height marked and leveled. I find my first stud, then measure out the next four. I drive nails into the studs. I use the nails to hold the brace in position so I can screw it in properly. I'm feeling proud of myself folks! Only problem, I cannot drive the screws into the studs. I am using every ounce of strength that I've got and I'm stripping the screws. Son of a... I'm pissed! I have to be able to do this. I get two of the five screws in. The other three each have a half inch or more to go. Crap! I'm going to have to rely on Matt's strength. I hate that! I love my husband, but I've got pride, dammit. I want to be able to do it myself. I am woman, hear me purr? Hell no! Roar, baby!
So, I wait for Matt to get home. (purr!) We've got to get this finished. At this point neither of our vehicles can be parked in the garage. Matt climbs the ladder and makes his first attempt. No go! He can't do it either. So, I'm riding the border of 1)excitement that I wasn't such a wienie after all, 2) frustration that it's not working and 3) concern that tools are going to start flying (Matt has zero patience for projects that go array and it seems like all of ours do). Matt's definitely strong, so there has to be another problem. I decide that the drill bit must not be the right size or is too stripped already. I head off to Home Depot again. After trying to talk to some 12-year old kid about the drill bit I decide that I'm better off without him, especially when he point out that it takes a certain amount of strength to get the job done...grrr (I mean "roar")! I buy new drill bits and head back home with a new plan.
Once I get back home, we attempt to drive the screws with the new bits, no luck. Then I decide that pre-drilling is in order. It works!! Yeah!! Matt takes over now. Humph! That's ok! With our new shelving and stroller storage system installed, I know that my brains triumphed and that's all that really matters! Hehe! ROAR!!
We cleaned out the garage last weekend, hanging the bikes from the ceiling for the winter and packing up everything else in the shed. He still couldn't pull his car in, though because our collection of car seats and strollers remained without homes. We collected more of them last year and suffered through juggling them, tripping over them, and playing musical car seat/stroller all last winter. We didn't want to do that again. So, I decided we needed to purchase a shelf for the carseats and hooks for the strollers to get them up off the floor and out of the way.
So, yesterday was the day. Avery and I went to the grocery in the morning before Ethan arrived, so the morning was spent putting groceries away while the kids played. After lunch, I loaded the little ones up (using one of the extra car seats for Ethan) and the double stroller because Home Depot doesn't have carts that seat two little people. Do you see the need for extra car seats and strollers, folks? (a shout-out to the friends and family who have loaned some of those to us...thanks again for enabling me to get out of the house!)
So, I'm at Home Depot, kids in double stroller reading books (aw! everyone oohs and aahs as we enter the store). I load up the basket of the stroller with all the parts of the two storage systems that will fit. Then, I scout out an employee to help me get the bigger items to the front of the store for checkout. I drop almost $200 on storage (ouch!). A nice gentleman helps me load everything in the van and then I have to figure out where the stroller is going to go. I get the kids strapped in and snap the cutest picture of them holding hands! (If only I could figure out how to get pics from my phone onto my computer.)
Once we're home, it's nap time. I get the kids down and head out to the garage to hang my new storage systems. The shelf is to hang on the wall along side where I park the van. I'm careful to ensure that the shelf is going to be high enough that Matt won't crack his skull on it when he gets out of the van (see how nice I am?). This shelving system requires me to hang a 7 foot brace horizontally; attaching it directly to studs. Then, a set of metal standards attach to the brace and hang vertically. Those will also be screwed to the studs. These standards hold the brackets that hold the shelf. Got it? This system is reminding me a lot of the olden days when I worked in retail. Same setup.
So, here's me, all by myself with a 7 foot piece of metal that I'm trying to hang in a level line 8 feet off the ground. How is this supposed to work? I can't hold it level and attach it to a stud at the same time. I have the height marked and leveled. I find my first stud, then measure out the next four. I drive nails into the studs. I use the nails to hold the brace in position so I can screw it in properly. I'm feeling proud of myself folks! Only problem, I cannot drive the screws into the studs. I am using every ounce of strength that I've got and I'm stripping the screws. Son of a... I'm pissed! I have to be able to do this. I get two of the five screws in. The other three each have a half inch or more to go. Crap! I'm going to have to rely on Matt's strength. I hate that! I love my husband, but I've got pride, dammit. I want to be able to do it myself. I am woman, hear me purr? Hell no! Roar, baby!
So, I wait for Matt to get home. (purr!) We've got to get this finished. At this point neither of our vehicles can be parked in the garage. Matt climbs the ladder and makes his first attempt. No go! He can't do it either. So, I'm riding the border of 1)excitement that I wasn't such a wienie after all, 2) frustration that it's not working and 3) concern that tools are going to start flying (Matt has zero patience for projects that go array and it seems like all of ours do). Matt's definitely strong, so there has to be another problem. I decide that the drill bit must not be the right size or is too stripped already. I head off to Home Depot again. After trying to talk to some 12-year old kid about the drill bit I decide that I'm better off without him, especially when he point out that it takes a certain amount of strength to get the job done...grrr (I mean "roar")! I buy new drill bits and head back home with a new plan.
Once I get back home, we attempt to drive the screws with the new bits, no luck. Then I decide that pre-drilling is in order. It works!! Yeah!! Matt takes over now. Humph! That's ok! With our new shelving and stroller storage system installed, I know that my brains triumphed and that's all that really matters! Hehe! ROAR!!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Funny Four
I watched Delaney today, my little doodle bug that I watched from the time she was 7 weeks old up until she went to preschool. Here are some highlights...
- I forgot that she's got a ticklish bladder, meaning that when she gets tickled she pees her pants. Darn! I'm pretty sure I do it every time she comes to my house. I'm a tickler. I can't help it. I always remember about 5 seconds into the tickling, but it's always too late. She didn't have any extra underpants today.
- Me: "Delaney, go potty, then take off your underpants and put your pants back on. I'll wash your underpants while you take a nap." Delaney: "Can I help you?" Me: "No, I'm just going to put them in the washing machine." Delaney: "My mom and dad don't like for me to take off my underpants when I sleep." Hmmm. Good rule.
- She runs out of the bathroom, "Amanda, come look at the toilet paper. It's unrolling all by itself. It's wasting, Amanda! It's wasting!" No way did that whole roll of toilet paper unroll itself.
- The excuse to not nap..."I'm afraid to sleep here" in Elliot's room.
- I know she'll only sleep about an hour, so I strategically place myself in the front room right under the room where she's sleeping so I can intercept her before she wakes the other little ones who sleep longer (God willing). At the first, "Amanda", I bolt up the steps. "Why did it take me so long to wake up?"
- In the bathroom again, "Amanda, come look." (I know from previous experience that this is not going to be good.) "Someone spilled water all over the floor". How does this little girl pee between the toilet bowl and seat and all over my floor? It's not the first time.
- Delaney: "Am I going to eat dinner with you?" Me: "No, your mommy and daddy want you to eat at home." Delaney: "I'm hungry. When is my dad going to be here? Am I spending the night or what?" Me: "Your dad will be here at 6 o'clock and you're going to eat when you get home." Delaney: "Elliot said my dad will be here at 22 o'clock. Amanda, my mommy and daddy don't want me to eat at home."
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Connecting the Dots
When I woke on Sunday morning, my throat and ear were aching. Since Matt and I had been without kids the night before, we stayed up until 2:00am playing Rock Band. So, I was chalking the soreness to a late night (also partially to the four attempts to make it through Alanis Morisette's "You Oughta Know", which was a bit of a vocal strain for me)!
The throat and ear soreness wasn't much of an issue the remainder of the day Sunday or most of the day Monday. That is, until Monday evening. Immediately after dinner, I felt exhausted. I crashed on the couch while Elliot did the dishes and Matt cleaned up toys (thanks, boys!). And then the soreness kicked into full gear. It hurt to swallow and hurt to speak. I spent the next hour resting on the couch refraining from any extra vocal strain.
I took a spoonful of honey and headed to bed at 7:00pm. I rested in bed until about 9:00pm, talking very little and not above a whisper. I dropped some olive oil in my ear, (a replacement of the sweet oil that my mom used my ear when I was a child) inserted a cotton ball to catch the oil as it drained, and faded off to sleep to the sounds of Monday Night Football on our bedroom TV.
I woke with my alarm at 4:55am, swallowing cautiously to determine how my ear and throat were feeling. No pain! I hopped (or slowly trudged, after all it was early and I'm not a morning person) in the shower and dressed for exercise. About 10 minutes into my workout, the ear was tingling. By 6:30, the ear and throat were sore again. I found that I was trying not to speak again and then only in a whisper when necessary (this made for a very pleasant morning with Elliot...so astute is the boy who is told what to do via whispers and sign language). I finally decided that it was best not to babysit and get to the doctor. Nip it in the bud.
As soon as Elliot left for school, I went back to bed and slept until Avery called out, "Mommy, Daddy" from her bed at 9:00am. Glorious! Once again, my throat is no longer hurting. Hmmm. Still a little tingling in the ear, but nothing like the night before. Since I've taken the day off, I feel compelled to go to the doctor anyway. I call the doctor and make an appointment for later in the morning.
Throat and ear are healthy! What? I feel like an idiot for feeling so pitiful and for taking the day off. My doctor tells me that it's unusual for an adult to have ear infections. He proclaims the issue to be TMJ. What? He puts his hands on my face just in front of my ears and tells me to open my mouth. Jaw pops with each movement. I know that my jaw pops, but hadn't really given it much thought until this very moment. "Do you grind your teeth?" he asks. "No, but I find myself clinching my teeth a lot." I respond. As he's talking to me about the parts of the jaw and how they fit together I'm realizing that the fact that my jaw sometimes locks shut is probably not normal. Hmmm.
He proceeds to tell me how the nerve connecting the ear and jaw makes pain in the jaw feel like ear pain. He tells me how I should avoid things like chewing gum, taffy, nuts and anything really chewy for the next couple weeks. This can aggravate the jaw. I should take ibuprofen to reduce the swelling and if the problem persists I should see a dentist specializing in TMJ. No problem not chewing gum. I never chew gum because it hurts my jaw...hmmm. Suddenly, I'm remembering that I chewed two Now & Later's Saturday night (someone say "chewy") and ate almonds in my salad Monday night. D'oh!
More connections...I've experienced similar ear pain in the past year every time I've eaten nuts. I was starting to think that I was experiencing a mild allergy. Huh! Maybe it's the TMJ.
Once I'm home, I google TMJ. Another connection...neck and shoulder pain. I get random neck and shoulder pain all the time. I recently went through a bout that lasted several weeks and I could not figure out the cause of it. I thought that it was my sleep position. I tried (unsuccessfully) to force myself to stop sleeping on my stomach even though it's how I've been sleeping since I can remember. Now, I'm wondering if it was TMJ. Hmmm!
The throat and ear soreness wasn't much of an issue the remainder of the day Sunday or most of the day Monday. That is, until Monday evening. Immediately after dinner, I felt exhausted. I crashed on the couch while Elliot did the dishes and Matt cleaned up toys (thanks, boys!). And then the soreness kicked into full gear. It hurt to swallow and hurt to speak. I spent the next hour resting on the couch refraining from any extra vocal strain.
I took a spoonful of honey and headed to bed at 7:00pm. I rested in bed until about 9:00pm, talking very little and not above a whisper. I dropped some olive oil in my ear, (a replacement of the sweet oil that my mom used my ear when I was a child) inserted a cotton ball to catch the oil as it drained, and faded off to sleep to the sounds of Monday Night Football on our bedroom TV.
I woke with my alarm at 4:55am, swallowing cautiously to determine how my ear and throat were feeling. No pain! I hopped (or slowly trudged, after all it was early and I'm not a morning person) in the shower and dressed for exercise. About 10 minutes into my workout, the ear was tingling. By 6:30, the ear and throat were sore again. I found that I was trying not to speak again and then only in a whisper when necessary (this made for a very pleasant morning with Elliot...so astute is the boy who is told what to do via whispers and sign language). I finally decided that it was best not to babysit and get to the doctor. Nip it in the bud.
As soon as Elliot left for school, I went back to bed and slept until Avery called out, "Mommy, Daddy" from her bed at 9:00am. Glorious! Once again, my throat is no longer hurting. Hmmm. Still a little tingling in the ear, but nothing like the night before. Since I've taken the day off, I feel compelled to go to the doctor anyway. I call the doctor and make an appointment for later in the morning.
Throat and ear are healthy! What? I feel like an idiot for feeling so pitiful and for taking the day off. My doctor tells me that it's unusual for an adult to have ear infections. He proclaims the issue to be TMJ. What? He puts his hands on my face just in front of my ears and tells me to open my mouth. Jaw pops with each movement. I know that my jaw pops, but hadn't really given it much thought until this very moment. "Do you grind your teeth?" he asks. "No, but I find myself clinching my teeth a lot." I respond. As he's talking to me about the parts of the jaw and how they fit together I'm realizing that the fact that my jaw sometimes locks shut is probably not normal. Hmmm.
He proceeds to tell me how the nerve connecting the ear and jaw makes pain in the jaw feel like ear pain. He tells me how I should avoid things like chewing gum, taffy, nuts and anything really chewy for the next couple weeks. This can aggravate the jaw. I should take ibuprofen to reduce the swelling and if the problem persists I should see a dentist specializing in TMJ. No problem not chewing gum. I never chew gum because it hurts my jaw...hmmm. Suddenly, I'm remembering that I chewed two Now & Later's Saturday night (someone say "chewy") and ate almonds in my salad Monday night. D'oh!
More connections...I've experienced similar ear pain in the past year every time I've eaten nuts. I was starting to think that I was experiencing a mild allergy. Huh! Maybe it's the TMJ.
Once I'm home, I google TMJ. Another connection...neck and shoulder pain. I get random neck and shoulder pain all the time. I recently went through a bout that lasted several weeks and I could not figure out the cause of it. I thought that it was my sleep position. I tried (unsuccessfully) to force myself to stop sleeping on my stomach even though it's how I've been sleeping since I can remember. Now, I'm wondering if it was TMJ. Hmmm!
Friday, November 5, 2010
Mistaken clothes identity
I'm finding that Elliot's and my clothes are becoming increasingly hard to tell apart. For example, T-shirts are sometimes mistaken. Some are obvious. The Parrot Bay T-Shirt is mine. The Tony Hawk T-shirts are Elliot's. But, Matt has had to ask several times whether an IU T-shirt is mine or Elliot's.
A few weeks ago, I started to hang up a pair of Elliot's jeans in my closet. The only reason I realized they weren't mine was because the three pairs that I own were already hanging. D'oh!
This week, it was a pair of black dress socks. Elliot must have worn them to church Sunday. When I folded them, I first put them in Elliot's stack, then moved them to mine. When I started to put them in my drawer, I determined that they were indeed Elliot's.
Heaven help me when Avery gets older. Of course, she's already got a better wardrobe than me, so maybe it will work to my benefit one of these days!!
A few weeks ago, I started to hang up a pair of Elliot's jeans in my closet. The only reason I realized they weren't mine was because the three pairs that I own were already hanging. D'oh!
This week, it was a pair of black dress socks. Elliot must have worn them to church Sunday. When I folded them, I first put them in Elliot's stack, then moved them to mine. When I started to put them in my drawer, I determined that they were indeed Elliot's.
Heaven help me when Avery gets older. Of course, she's already got a better wardrobe than me, so maybe it will work to my benefit one of these days!!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Scale slave
I'm guilty! For as long as I can remember, I've been a slave to the scale. Recently, when I got back into the groove and decided to lose some weight and get in shape, this slave-scale relationship resurfaced. In the past, I've limited myself to weighing in once a week. I purposely chose Thursdays to weigh myself because it allowed three days to work off any "bad" choices from the previous weekend.
Over the years, I surmised that weighing myself weekly didn't paint an accurate picture of my weight loss efforts. If I went off track on Wednesday for some reason or if I was retaining water, the number would be high and I would be discouraged. Discouragement led to a downward spiral. This time around, I weighed myself daily so that I could keep a more accurate account of my weight loss. I found this method to be more rewarding. I could see the scale moving in a downward trend most days and if it happened to not move, it was easy to accept because I knew that I was still moving in the right direction overall.
This worked for about 10 weeks, when I came within 3 pounds of a weight that I hadn't seen since high school! I was so excited to hit that number. I wanted to lose that last 3 pounds, and then I would allow myself some slack. Then, I plateaued. The scale didn't move for about 10 days. I started getting disappointed. I had been exercising 6 days a week, even twice a day three days a week, and sticking strictly to my 1200 calorie diet plan--foresaking my husband's and son's pleas for the occasional fast food or pizza. I just wanted to get to my goal and then I could have the occasional "treat".
At the peak of my frustration and mounting disappointment at the stationary number on the scale, I was hit with a huge setback. The scale jumped up 4 pounds one day. Ugh! I had been so good! I had been pushing so hard to drop those last 3 and now I was moving in the wrong direction. What happened? I tried not to get too disappointed. I stuck with the program, thinking it was a fluke and the scale would become my friend again over the next few days. Friendly or not, it didn't move. For another week, this new high number stuck with me. I felt utterly defeated and started to consider binging just to spite the scale. (This has been the downfall of most every other weight loss that I've experienced in my life. When the going gets tough, the weak say "poor pitiful me" and eat everything in sight until a feeling of complete disappointment and disgust is achieved.)
Then, I had a breakthrough. I felt good! Why was I putting myself through this misery? When, I started this journey, I purposely did not set a weight loss goal because I was fully aware of my past fateful relationship with the numbers on the scale. My initial goal was merely to fit more comfortably in my jeans. Only when I saw the pounds dropping, did I set the weight goal. So here I was, my jeans not only fitting comfortably, but with a little wiggle room and I'm near depression mode. Over 3 pounds! Seriously?
So, what's a girl to do? Say, "screw the scale". That's what I told Matt my new philosophy was going to be. If I met my goal of fitting into my jeans and I felt better, why should I be so hung up on a number. So, I moved into maintain mode. I let loose a little bit. I started exercising only 5 days a week once a day and allowed myself to eat some not diet-approved foods in moderation.
Then, Halloween arrived. I insisted that Avery needed some chocolate covered raisins and candy corn because those were candies that her four little teeth could handle. Of course, I didn't admit (to myself) that these are two of my favorite types of candy, too! I spent the whole weekend of Halloween pigging out on snack mixes that included lots of healthy nuts and dried fruit, but also chocolate covered raisins and candy corn. Oh, and cookies. In the days leading up to Halloween, I had an urge to bake some pumpkin-shaped iced sugar cookies. So, I was eating plenty of those too.
I vowed to get back into action after the weekend, but an unexpected change of schedule prevented me from exercising for two days and on top of that, I continued my binge of all things unhealthy including polishing off "Avery's" chocolate covered raisins and partaking of the Halloween Oreo's that were 75% off after the holiday.
After my 6-day binge, I decided enough was enough. I'd worked too hard and was afraid I was on a slippery slope. I threw away the last of the candy corn and vowed to get back to business the following morning. I got up early to exercise, but stopped by the scale first just to see where I was. I was hoping not to have gained more than 3 pounds.
I was back down to the original number--the one where I was only 3 pounds from that high school weight! The one that I hadn't seen in more than two weeks! What? How could this be? So, back to my motto of "screw the scale". I'm back to 5-day/week exercise and staying mostly on my 1200 calorie plan with some occasional wiggle room. Get a grip, girlfriend!
Over the years, I surmised that weighing myself weekly didn't paint an accurate picture of my weight loss efforts. If I went off track on Wednesday for some reason or if I was retaining water, the number would be high and I would be discouraged. Discouragement led to a downward spiral. This time around, I weighed myself daily so that I could keep a more accurate account of my weight loss. I found this method to be more rewarding. I could see the scale moving in a downward trend most days and if it happened to not move, it was easy to accept because I knew that I was still moving in the right direction overall.
This worked for about 10 weeks, when I came within 3 pounds of a weight that I hadn't seen since high school! I was so excited to hit that number. I wanted to lose that last 3 pounds, and then I would allow myself some slack. Then, I plateaued. The scale didn't move for about 10 days. I started getting disappointed. I had been exercising 6 days a week, even twice a day three days a week, and sticking strictly to my 1200 calorie diet plan--foresaking my husband's and son's pleas for the occasional fast food or pizza. I just wanted to get to my goal and then I could have the occasional "treat".
At the peak of my frustration and mounting disappointment at the stationary number on the scale, I was hit with a huge setback. The scale jumped up 4 pounds one day. Ugh! I had been so good! I had been pushing so hard to drop those last 3 and now I was moving in the wrong direction. What happened? I tried not to get too disappointed. I stuck with the program, thinking it was a fluke and the scale would become my friend again over the next few days. Friendly or not, it didn't move. For another week, this new high number stuck with me. I felt utterly defeated and started to consider binging just to spite the scale. (This has been the downfall of most every other weight loss that I've experienced in my life. When the going gets tough, the weak say "poor pitiful me" and eat everything in sight until a feeling of complete disappointment and disgust is achieved.)
Then, I had a breakthrough. I felt good! Why was I putting myself through this misery? When, I started this journey, I purposely did not set a weight loss goal because I was fully aware of my past fateful relationship with the numbers on the scale. My initial goal was merely to fit more comfortably in my jeans. Only when I saw the pounds dropping, did I set the weight goal. So here I was, my jeans not only fitting comfortably, but with a little wiggle room and I'm near depression mode. Over 3 pounds! Seriously?
So, what's a girl to do? Say, "screw the scale". That's what I told Matt my new philosophy was going to be. If I met my goal of fitting into my jeans and I felt better, why should I be so hung up on a number. So, I moved into maintain mode. I let loose a little bit. I started exercising only 5 days a week once a day and allowed myself to eat some not diet-approved foods in moderation.
Then, Halloween arrived. I insisted that Avery needed some chocolate covered raisins and candy corn because those were candies that her four little teeth could handle. Of course, I didn't admit (to myself) that these are two of my favorite types of candy, too! I spent the whole weekend of Halloween pigging out on snack mixes that included lots of healthy nuts and dried fruit, but also chocolate covered raisins and candy corn. Oh, and cookies. In the days leading up to Halloween, I had an urge to bake some pumpkin-shaped iced sugar cookies. So, I was eating plenty of those too.
I vowed to get back into action after the weekend, but an unexpected change of schedule prevented me from exercising for two days and on top of that, I continued my binge of all things unhealthy including polishing off "Avery's" chocolate covered raisins and partaking of the Halloween Oreo's that were 75% off after the holiday.
After my 6-day binge, I decided enough was enough. I'd worked too hard and was afraid I was on a slippery slope. I threw away the last of the candy corn and vowed to get back to business the following morning. I got up early to exercise, but stopped by the scale first just to see where I was. I was hoping not to have gained more than 3 pounds.
I was back down to the original number--the one where I was only 3 pounds from that high school weight! The one that I hadn't seen in more than two weeks! What? How could this be? So, back to my motto of "screw the scale". I'm back to 5-day/week exercise and staying mostly on my 1200 calorie plan with some occasional wiggle room. Get a grip, girlfriend!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Spelling
Matt was helping Elliot with his spelling tonight. Elliot's having a hard time spelling peculiar. Matt gave Elliot a tip to help him remember. "Pec, you liar" (pec-u-liar). Elliot says, "cool, it's like you're saying a bad word." Hmmm? "Puck you, liar". Not quite the same.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Summer time
Reading my friend, Megan's blog always prompts me get back to mine. Shame on her for taking so much time off! Haha! Good grief, it's been awhile! Let's see, what's happened since April...Avery celebrated her first birthday; Elliot received his First Communion; Elliot played his first season of kid's pitch baseball, and 8-year old All Stars; Matt spent a lot of time out-of-town working in East Chicago in the spring; I planted a stick that is turning into a tree; Elliot finally started swimming!!!; we went to Holiday World; we bought memberships to the Children's Museum and Zoo, which we've used only on the occasion of their purchase; Elliot has been allowed to go around the block to get his friend Christopher without adult supervision; we took a trip to Fair Oaks Dairy where I acted like a kid and ended up with an broken pinkie toe; went to Big Splash Adventure in French Lick; took up walking/running at Eagle Creek with Jessica, talked ourselves into training for the mini and then quit; Matt and I bought Rock Band for our birthdays; I enjoyed almost monthly Girl's Nights with my girlfriends; Elliot started CYO Football, Matt's back to working in East Chicago (so we've come full circle)...
So, we haven't spent a lot of time outside this summer because it's been so stinking HOT! It's hard to motivate myself to spend time in the heat, let alone taking multiple little people out there with me. On the occasions that we have ventured outside, I find that once I start putting shoes on the first kid, the others know what's happening and then they all run to the door and start screaming. So, the 20-minute process of getting shoes, sunscreen, hats, toys, etc. for all the little people and getting them outside turns into a scream fest that leaves me wondering why I even bother...oh yeah, because I need to get out of this house as badly as they do! In the meantime, you would think from the sound of things that I'm leading them to slaughter instead of outside to play. Ugh!
Yesterday was Elliot's last day of summer vacation and it was not entirely oppressive outside, so I decided that we should spend as much time outside as possible. This finally happened at 4pm! Naps were complete, while the three little people ate snacks I put on my own shoes (out of their eyesight), and grabbed a blanket for the baby to sit on. That was all it took. Amelia (2) knew immediately what was happening and started the mantra, "I wanna go outside, Manda". Amelia has now finished her snack--the fastest I've ever seen her clear her plate--and is down from the table following me as I gather toys from around the house. "I wanna go outside, Manda". Each time, I take a load of stuff outside (about 5 trips in all), she follows me to the door. "I wanna go outside, Manda". Now, the other two little ones have finished their snacks. I get them cleaned up and down from their respective high chairs and booster seats. "I wanna go outside, Manda. I put my shoes on". Now Avery kicks in, "Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes..." Now both of them are following me around. I sit them down to put their shoes on. "We go outside, Manda? Put shoes on?" "Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes..."
We made it. Hailey (9 mos) screams when I first sit her on the blanket, but once I sit down next to her, she's okay. Avery and Amelia are playing in the water table (a plastic storage tote full of water and toys, sitting atop a plastic kids table). Elliot is hitting golf balls. While I've told him that I don't think this is a good idea, he assures me that since he's only using his putter, the balls won't be launched into the air. Everyone is content for a bit. Hailey has crawled off the blanket and is happy to be pulling grass up by the handful. Avery has ventured away from the water table to go down the slide.
Oh good, here comes the Republic truck. I thought I hadn't gotten my recycling out early enough and missed it. Turns out they're just late. Amelia is still nearby at the water table and I tell her to watch the truck pick up the tote and dump it into the truck. She's excited. Then it starts. A blood-curdling scream! Avery has gone bonkers at the sound and sight of the truck that has stopped in front of our house and stolen our recycling. Elliot swoops into "save" his sister. She's petrified. Her legs are visibly trembling. I'm yelling at Elliot to put her down. I'm afraid that his reaction will affirm in her mind that she has a reason to be scared. The screaming continues while the truck turns around in the cul-de-sac and comes back to pick up my neighbor's recycling. Amelia has begun to scream just for the sake of it. I'm encouraging everyone to wave to the nice man inside the big truck. "Wow, it's loud. Bye, bye big truck. See you later." Amelia follows my trend. Avery is still in hysterics. Now, every car that passes, causes additional screaming. Oh, look, the Republic truck has gone around the block and is passing by again. Screaming! "Bye, bye, big truck".
A few minutes have passed and Avery is still a little freaked each time a car drives by, but has ventured away from me and back over to the slide. A car comes by with it's stereo blasting, bass reverberating off the windows of the house. Avery looks at the car with a little trepidation, then starts dancing! Hee hee! That's my girl! She's finally over it...until the UPS truck pulls up across the street. The screaming ensues. Now, Amelia has decided that there really must be something frightening and she starts screaming in earnest. It's time to go inside!
So, we haven't spent a lot of time outside this summer because it's been so stinking HOT! It's hard to motivate myself to spend time in the heat, let alone taking multiple little people out there with me. On the occasions that we have ventured outside, I find that once I start putting shoes on the first kid, the others know what's happening and then they all run to the door and start screaming. So, the 20-minute process of getting shoes, sunscreen, hats, toys, etc. for all the little people and getting them outside turns into a scream fest that leaves me wondering why I even bother...oh yeah, because I need to get out of this house as badly as they do! In the meantime, you would think from the sound of things that I'm leading them to slaughter instead of outside to play. Ugh!
Yesterday was Elliot's last day of summer vacation and it was not entirely oppressive outside, so I decided that we should spend as much time outside as possible. This finally happened at 4pm! Naps were complete, while the three little people ate snacks I put on my own shoes (out of their eyesight), and grabbed a blanket for the baby to sit on. That was all it took. Amelia (2) knew immediately what was happening and started the mantra, "I wanna go outside, Manda". Amelia has now finished her snack--the fastest I've ever seen her clear her plate--and is down from the table following me as I gather toys from around the house. "I wanna go outside, Manda". Each time, I take a load of stuff outside (about 5 trips in all), she follows me to the door. "I wanna go outside, Manda". Now, the other two little ones have finished their snacks. I get them cleaned up and down from their respective high chairs and booster seats. "I wanna go outside, Manda. I put my shoes on". Now Avery kicks in, "Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes..." Now both of them are following me around. I sit them down to put their shoes on. "We go outside, Manda? Put shoes on?" "Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes..."
We made it. Hailey (9 mos) screams when I first sit her on the blanket, but once I sit down next to her, she's okay. Avery and Amelia are playing in the water table (a plastic storage tote full of water and toys, sitting atop a plastic kids table). Elliot is hitting golf balls. While I've told him that I don't think this is a good idea, he assures me that since he's only using his putter, the balls won't be launched into the air. Everyone is content for a bit. Hailey has crawled off the blanket and is happy to be pulling grass up by the handful. Avery has ventured away from the water table to go down the slide.
Oh good, here comes the Republic truck. I thought I hadn't gotten my recycling out early enough and missed it. Turns out they're just late. Amelia is still nearby at the water table and I tell her to watch the truck pick up the tote and dump it into the truck. She's excited. Then it starts. A blood-curdling scream! Avery has gone bonkers at the sound and sight of the truck that has stopped in front of our house and stolen our recycling. Elliot swoops into "save" his sister. She's petrified. Her legs are visibly trembling. I'm yelling at Elliot to put her down. I'm afraid that his reaction will affirm in her mind that she has a reason to be scared. The screaming continues while the truck turns around in the cul-de-sac and comes back to pick up my neighbor's recycling. Amelia has begun to scream just for the sake of it. I'm encouraging everyone to wave to the nice man inside the big truck. "Wow, it's loud. Bye, bye big truck. See you later." Amelia follows my trend. Avery is still in hysterics. Now, every car that passes, causes additional screaming. Oh, look, the Republic truck has gone around the block and is passing by again. Screaming! "Bye, bye, big truck".
A few minutes have passed and Avery is still a little freaked each time a car drives by, but has ventured away from me and back over to the slide. A car comes by with it's stereo blasting, bass reverberating off the windows of the house. Avery looks at the car with a little trepidation, then starts dancing! Hee hee! That's my girl! She's finally over it...until the UPS truck pulls up across the street. The screaming ensues. Now, Amelia has decided that there really must be something frightening and she starts screaming in earnest. It's time to go inside!
Monday, April 5, 2010
Full Weekend
Friday...what did we do Friday? Oh yea, we drove to West Lafayette to return Matt's company truck to his co-worker, who had been on vacation all week. Two hours of driving and no fun to come of it.
So, I will digress...while Matt had the company truck, we took the opportunity to get both of our vehicles serviced. They were each having issues. After spending $600 on Matt's car, we picked it up and dropped the van off (actually, my dad did that for us, thanks, Dad!). Then we found that none of the gauges on his dash worked. So, Friday morning when Matt was off for Good Friday, we returned his car and picked up the van. For another $200, we had no more squeaking in the van. Yeah! Friday afternoon, we find out that the entire gauge component went out on Matt's car. We're told this was coincidental and had nothing to do with the work that was done on his car earlier in the week. Matt is skeptical of this theory, but he's had dash problems in the past, so I'm not as hard to convince. It'll just be another $200 to replace it. Of course it will. Well, we can't very well have Matt driving around with no speedometer and no fuel gauge so what else can we do?
So, with all the swapping of vehicles through the week, I ended up putting Avery's car seat in forward facing. I'm a rebel. It was just easier and we were only going down the road. So, now we're back to Friday afternoon. Matt and Elliot are in the company truck and Avery is with me in the van. I decided for the long trip to W. Lafayette that it would be wise to turn her car seat back around. Avery is not so fond of this plan. She screams her head off all the way to the gas station. I played peek-a-boo with her while the gas was pumping and then she decided to tolerate the rear-facing view. She only screamed a couple of times on the way to W. Lafayette. Whew! I was scared. On the way home, it's going on 6pm and everyone's getting hungry. My plan to make fish tacos for dinner was quickly tossed. Instead, we stop at Little Caesars for cheese pizzas and breadsticks. Elliot played basketball with the neighbor kids until after 8pm. We all turned in relatively early, knowing that we had a busy Saturday.
Saturday, after Matt made French toast for us for breakfast, we spent all morning cleaning the house. Matt and Elliot are tremendous helpers. Matt and I kept trying to gross each other out with the filth that was uncovered. "Look what I just swept up in the dining room". " Look how black the swiffer is". At 1:00, we hosted my Dad's birthday dinner. My mom provided all the food and all we did was let everyone come over. It was the easiest hosting gig ever! We all chowed down on barbecue pork, chips, green bean casserole and a homemade mint chocolate chip ice cream cake for dessert (the final remnants I just finished while typing this, yum!). Everyone was gone by 3pm and Avery went down for a nap. I ran to the store and picked up some food coloring, came home and boiled eggs. Then, I ironed shirts for Matt and Elliot to wear to mass Sunday morning. Elliot came in from playing basketball and helped me color eggs. We had leftover pizza for dinner and then the Butler game started. On commercials, Elliot and I went to get dressed for the Easter Vigil mass. Here, Elliot entered melt-down mode. He didn't want to wear long sleeves. He didn't want to wear school pants. He wanted to wear black shoes, not brown. Matt sent Elliot to bed for the night. It was 6:30pm and Elliot and I were supposed to be at the church at 7:15.
At 6:50, Matt gave Elliot the option of going to church without whining or staying in bed. Elliot chose to come to church. When we arrived, I reminded Elliot that the mass would be long. It was the Easter vigil mass and my dad was being baptized, confirmed and receiving his First Communion. Elliot said he wished that he would have chosen to stay in bed. I told Elliot the mass would last 4 hours, even though I only thought it would last 2. My thought was that after an hour I would say, it's only been 1 hour, but we're almost done...make it seem better than it actually was. We were all given candles at the beginning of mass, so we could process in with candles lit from the Easter candle. Elliot made me a nervous wreck with his. After we blew them out, Elliot proceeded to pick all the wax drippings off of both of our candles. The floor was covered with wax. The mass was bilingual English and Spanish. I tried to encourage Elliot to follow along, but was unsuccessful. I got a text from Matt, "butler won". Once the baptisms were complete (about 1.5 hours into the mass), we were welcomed to come congratulate the newly baptized. Elliot and I went up to the alter and hugged my dad. He was tearful and very proud. It was very emotional. About half the church emptied out after that, including the people who were sitting in the pew behind us. Elliot took this opportunity to stretch out on the pew to rest. I considered letting him lie there, but once all settled and the mass began again, I decided it was a bad idea. (OK, so seeing three nuns sitting at his feet probably helped me come to this conclusion). I made him sit up and participate in mass again. Would you believe that the mass lasted 3.5 hours???!! That's what I get for telling Elliot it would last 4 hours. So much for that! We went over to the cafeteria afterward for cake and punch. Elliot and I left quickly after that. It was midnight when we got home. Matt had to remind me that the Easter bunny was still to come that night. Ugh!
Sunday, Elliot came to wake us up at 7:30. Seriously, you were up until midnight. Go back to bed. The baby's not even up yet. Matt sent him back to bed. He returned at 7:45. Now, Avery was up too. Ok, off to find Easter baskets. Guess we're not going to church this morning. Why did we buy the kids Easter clothes and why did I iron shirts??? I made an egg and sausage scramble with hashbrowns. Elliot wasn't very hungry (what? the boy never stops eating these days). Avery took a nap and the rest of us got ready to leave. Everyone was forced to wear their Easter clothes. Otherwise, what's the point. Once Avery woke up, we hopped in the van and headed to Matt's parent's house for the annual Easter egg hunt. We were early (first in line to borrow new DVD's--The Blind Side--yeah). Elliot, who's wearing jeans and a long-sleeve dress shirt complains that he's freezing. Something's wrong. The boy is always hot. It's all we can do to keep him in long pants through the winter. Now, it's 70 degrees and he's freezing. Uh oh! He cuddles up with a blanket and hangs out in the recliner for awhile. He feels warmish, but not feverish. He doesn't eat much. I think he's probably more tired than sick. Grandma insists on some tylenol chewables. By the time everyone is finished eating and we head out for the egg hunt, Elliot seems better. He found a $5 egg! Seven eggs found Avery. When the egg hunt is finished, Avery goes down for a nap, but not willingly. I go outside to visit with Matt's brothers and nephews, and send Matt in to check on Avery. When I go in a few minutes later, Avery is in Matt's arms. She had been screaming. Time to go. As we're packing up to go (this is a great event...diaper bag, pack n play, blankets, etc.) we realize Avery's filled her pants. No wonder she was screaming. Both kids fall asleep on the way home. We tried to put Avery down when we got home, but not sure if she ever fell back to sleep. Even if she did, it was not for long. She was up half-hour later. Elliot curled up with a blanket on the couch. Then, came into my room as I was changing into comfy clothes, and curled up on my bed. Soon after, the neighbor kids come down and Elliot went out to play basketball. I settle into the kitchen for some cooking. I'll have a houseful of kids this week and nothing prepared to feed them. I made spaghetti and chicken noodle soup. Then, I heated up leftover burrito filling, tossed some prepared rice into it and served it over tortilla chips. I was still stuffed from Easter dinner at the in-laws. Elliot, Matt and Avery ate the nachos (Avery's sans chips). Once again, Elliot didn't eat much.
After dinner, Elliot worked up a drawing for his First Communion banner that's due next week. Then it was time for a shower and bed. At 1am, I wake up and think I hear whimpering. I'm straining my ears, but can't really tell. When I get up to check it out, I hear Elliot. I go in to check on him. He's lying at the opposite end of the bed, on his belly. He tells me that when he faces the ceiling, the room goes in circles. Uh oh! I go downstairs to get the thermometer. When I come back up, he's asleep. I take his temp under his arm while he's sleeping. He flinches a couple times knocking the thermometer loose. It reads 100.3. I wonder if it's true. I give him some Motrin and go back to bed. I decide that he needs to stay home from school tomorrow, which means I can't babysit, either. Do I call now or in the morning? I decide to wait. I sleep restlessly worrying about Elliot and the spinning room. My experience with spinning rooms is that it's a miserable feeling, but my experiences have always been self-induced. I feel bad for Elliot. I'm sure his is not a result of too many screwdrivers!
I send a text out to the moms at 5am. At 5:20, I haven't heard any response from anyone. I text Grace again. She's due at my house at 5:45. At 5:30, I call her, but get voicemail. I plan to meet her at the car so she doesn't get the little one out of the car. The next thing I know I hear a knock at the door. Shoot! I throw on my robe, run downstairs, turn off the house alarm and open the door. Poor Grace. I have to inform her that Elliot's sick and I can't keep Amelia. I feel terrible that she came all this way for nothing and that she's going to be late for work by the time she makes other arrangements. Darn! I decide to wait until 6:30 to call Carol, our friend who takes Elliot to school. I wake up to the phone ringing. It's 7:17. Crap! Carol is in my driveway. Her son is knocking on the door. I incoherently tell her that Elliot's sick and not going to school, apologizing as I go. I fall asleep again.
We all get up at 8am. We do some breakfast. Elliot has dry cheerios and gatorade. I call the doctor. I'm concerned about the spinning room. The dr. doesn't think there's anything to worry about. Sometimes fevers cause dizziness. OK. I take Elliot's temp again at 10am, 101. I give him some Tylenol. At noon Elliot eats four chicken nuggets for lunch. I'm happy that he's feeling well enough to want nuggets. But, then he tells me that his body is trembling. I take his temp again 101.3. I'm surprised that it's still rising when he just had Tylenol 2 hours ago. Now, I remember that he has a slightly infected ingrown toenail (we just discovered Friday). Maybe the infection is causing the fever. I call the doctor's office again. They tell me to come in. OK, I'll be right in. I go wake up Avery, who's already gotten in a 2 hour nap. We start to get ready to leave and then I remember that I don't have a vehicle. Matt's car is still in the shop and he drove the van to work. Pooh! I call my mom. No answer. I call my dad. He doesn't have a vehicle. He tells me to blow up my mom's phone, telling me that's what he does when she doesn't answer. Knowing how much it drives me nuts when people do this to me, I opt for sending her a quick text instead. After a few minutes without response, I call my Grandma. Grandma's recovering from surgery and I don't know how well she's doing and I feel bad for asking her for a favor, but she is happy to help.
On the way to the doctor, the car shop calls. Matt's car is done. Hmmm. Nice timing. We get into the doctor's office and the nurse comes in to talk to us about Elliot's symptoms. I'm feeling foolish for taking him in all the while. She checks out his toenail and said that it's not bad enough to cause the fever. She advises that we just treat it with neosporin. By the time the doctor comes in, I'm feeling like a jerk for wasting his time. He says that Elliot's throat is a little red and pulls out the long q-tip. He just wants to "tickle Elliot's tongue". Haha! Nice try. Elliot's not falling for it. He's been through this before and he flat out refuses. The doctor says he'll send the nurse in to do it! I find this rather amusing! The nurse comes in and tries to talk Elliot into letting her do the strep test, but he's not going for it. He wants to do it himself. No. Then, she tells him that if he doesn't let her do it, then the doctor comes back in and the have to pin him down and plug his nose so he has to open his mouth to breathe. He gives in! The test is positive...aha! I'm not such a jerk after all. I'm glad we have an answer, sorry Elliot has strep throat, but glad the strep test was not in vain.
OK, we're well into Monday, so I guess the "Full Weekend" post should end...
So, I will digress...while Matt had the company truck, we took the opportunity to get both of our vehicles serviced. They were each having issues. After spending $600 on Matt's car, we picked it up and dropped the van off (actually, my dad did that for us, thanks, Dad!). Then we found that none of the gauges on his dash worked. So, Friday morning when Matt was off for Good Friday, we returned his car and picked up the van. For another $200, we had no more squeaking in the van. Yeah! Friday afternoon, we find out that the entire gauge component went out on Matt's car. We're told this was coincidental and had nothing to do with the work that was done on his car earlier in the week. Matt is skeptical of this theory, but he's had dash problems in the past, so I'm not as hard to convince. It'll just be another $200 to replace it. Of course it will. Well, we can't very well have Matt driving around with no speedometer and no fuel gauge so what else can we do?
So, with all the swapping of vehicles through the week, I ended up putting Avery's car seat in forward facing. I'm a rebel. It was just easier and we were only going down the road. So, now we're back to Friday afternoon. Matt and Elliot are in the company truck and Avery is with me in the van. I decided for the long trip to W. Lafayette that it would be wise to turn her car seat back around. Avery is not so fond of this plan. She screams her head off all the way to the gas station. I played peek-a-boo with her while the gas was pumping and then she decided to tolerate the rear-facing view. She only screamed a couple of times on the way to W. Lafayette. Whew! I was scared. On the way home, it's going on 6pm and everyone's getting hungry. My plan to make fish tacos for dinner was quickly tossed. Instead, we stop at Little Caesars for cheese pizzas and breadsticks. Elliot played basketball with the neighbor kids until after 8pm. We all turned in relatively early, knowing that we had a busy Saturday.
Saturday, after Matt made French toast for us for breakfast, we spent all morning cleaning the house. Matt and Elliot are tremendous helpers. Matt and I kept trying to gross each other out with the filth that was uncovered. "Look what I just swept up in the dining room". " Look how black the swiffer is". At 1:00, we hosted my Dad's birthday dinner. My mom provided all the food and all we did was let everyone come over. It was the easiest hosting gig ever! We all chowed down on barbecue pork, chips, green bean casserole and a homemade mint chocolate chip ice cream cake for dessert (the final remnants I just finished while typing this, yum!). Everyone was gone by 3pm and Avery went down for a nap. I ran to the store and picked up some food coloring, came home and boiled eggs. Then, I ironed shirts for Matt and Elliot to wear to mass Sunday morning. Elliot came in from playing basketball and helped me color eggs. We had leftover pizza for dinner and then the Butler game started. On commercials, Elliot and I went to get dressed for the Easter Vigil mass. Here, Elliot entered melt-down mode. He didn't want to wear long sleeves. He didn't want to wear school pants. He wanted to wear black shoes, not brown. Matt sent Elliot to bed for the night. It was 6:30pm and Elliot and I were supposed to be at the church at 7:15.
At 6:50, Matt gave Elliot the option of going to church without whining or staying in bed. Elliot chose to come to church. When we arrived, I reminded Elliot that the mass would be long. It was the Easter vigil mass and my dad was being baptized, confirmed and receiving his First Communion. Elliot said he wished that he would have chosen to stay in bed. I told Elliot the mass would last 4 hours, even though I only thought it would last 2. My thought was that after an hour I would say, it's only been 1 hour, but we're almost done...make it seem better than it actually was. We were all given candles at the beginning of mass, so we could process in with candles lit from the Easter candle. Elliot made me a nervous wreck with his. After we blew them out, Elliot proceeded to pick all the wax drippings off of both of our candles. The floor was covered with wax. The mass was bilingual English and Spanish. I tried to encourage Elliot to follow along, but was unsuccessful. I got a text from Matt, "butler won". Once the baptisms were complete (about 1.5 hours into the mass), we were welcomed to come congratulate the newly baptized. Elliot and I went up to the alter and hugged my dad. He was tearful and very proud. It was very emotional. About half the church emptied out after that, including the people who were sitting in the pew behind us. Elliot took this opportunity to stretch out on the pew to rest. I considered letting him lie there, but once all settled and the mass began again, I decided it was a bad idea. (OK, so seeing three nuns sitting at his feet probably helped me come to this conclusion). I made him sit up and participate in mass again. Would you believe that the mass lasted 3.5 hours???!! That's what I get for telling Elliot it would last 4 hours. So much for that! We went over to the cafeteria afterward for cake and punch. Elliot and I left quickly after that. It was midnight when we got home. Matt had to remind me that the Easter bunny was still to come that night. Ugh!
Sunday, Elliot came to wake us up at 7:30. Seriously, you were up until midnight. Go back to bed. The baby's not even up yet. Matt sent him back to bed. He returned at 7:45. Now, Avery was up too. Ok, off to find Easter baskets. Guess we're not going to church this morning. Why did we buy the kids Easter clothes and why did I iron shirts??? I made an egg and sausage scramble with hashbrowns. Elliot wasn't very hungry (what? the boy never stops eating these days). Avery took a nap and the rest of us got ready to leave. Everyone was forced to wear their Easter clothes. Otherwise, what's the point. Once Avery woke up, we hopped in the van and headed to Matt's parent's house for the annual Easter egg hunt. We were early (first in line to borrow new DVD's--The Blind Side--yeah). Elliot, who's wearing jeans and a long-sleeve dress shirt complains that he's freezing. Something's wrong. The boy is always hot. It's all we can do to keep him in long pants through the winter. Now, it's 70 degrees and he's freezing. Uh oh! He cuddles up with a blanket and hangs out in the recliner for awhile. He feels warmish, but not feverish. He doesn't eat much. I think he's probably more tired than sick. Grandma insists on some tylenol chewables. By the time everyone is finished eating and we head out for the egg hunt, Elliot seems better. He found a $5 egg! Seven eggs found Avery. When the egg hunt is finished, Avery goes down for a nap, but not willingly. I go outside to visit with Matt's brothers and nephews, and send Matt in to check on Avery. When I go in a few minutes later, Avery is in Matt's arms. She had been screaming. Time to go. As we're packing up to go (this is a great event...diaper bag, pack n play, blankets, etc.) we realize Avery's filled her pants. No wonder she was screaming. Both kids fall asleep on the way home. We tried to put Avery down when we got home, but not sure if she ever fell back to sleep. Even if she did, it was not for long. She was up half-hour later. Elliot curled up with a blanket on the couch. Then, came into my room as I was changing into comfy clothes, and curled up on my bed. Soon after, the neighbor kids come down and Elliot went out to play basketball. I settle into the kitchen for some cooking. I'll have a houseful of kids this week and nothing prepared to feed them. I made spaghetti and chicken noodle soup. Then, I heated up leftover burrito filling, tossed some prepared rice into it and served it over tortilla chips. I was still stuffed from Easter dinner at the in-laws. Elliot, Matt and Avery ate the nachos (Avery's sans chips). Once again, Elliot didn't eat much.
After dinner, Elliot worked up a drawing for his First Communion banner that's due next week. Then it was time for a shower and bed. At 1am, I wake up and think I hear whimpering. I'm straining my ears, but can't really tell. When I get up to check it out, I hear Elliot. I go in to check on him. He's lying at the opposite end of the bed, on his belly. He tells me that when he faces the ceiling, the room goes in circles. Uh oh! I go downstairs to get the thermometer. When I come back up, he's asleep. I take his temp under his arm while he's sleeping. He flinches a couple times knocking the thermometer loose. It reads 100.3. I wonder if it's true. I give him some Motrin and go back to bed. I decide that he needs to stay home from school tomorrow, which means I can't babysit, either. Do I call now or in the morning? I decide to wait. I sleep restlessly worrying about Elliot and the spinning room. My experience with spinning rooms is that it's a miserable feeling, but my experiences have always been self-induced. I feel bad for Elliot. I'm sure his is not a result of too many screwdrivers!
I send a text out to the moms at 5am. At 5:20, I haven't heard any response from anyone. I text Grace again. She's due at my house at 5:45. At 5:30, I call her, but get voicemail. I plan to meet her at the car so she doesn't get the little one out of the car. The next thing I know I hear a knock at the door. Shoot! I throw on my robe, run downstairs, turn off the house alarm and open the door. Poor Grace. I have to inform her that Elliot's sick and I can't keep Amelia. I feel terrible that she came all this way for nothing and that she's going to be late for work by the time she makes other arrangements. Darn! I decide to wait until 6:30 to call Carol, our friend who takes Elliot to school. I wake up to the phone ringing. It's 7:17. Crap! Carol is in my driveway. Her son is knocking on the door. I incoherently tell her that Elliot's sick and not going to school, apologizing as I go. I fall asleep again.
We all get up at 8am. We do some breakfast. Elliot has dry cheerios and gatorade. I call the doctor. I'm concerned about the spinning room. The dr. doesn't think there's anything to worry about. Sometimes fevers cause dizziness. OK. I take Elliot's temp again at 10am, 101. I give him some Tylenol. At noon Elliot eats four chicken nuggets for lunch. I'm happy that he's feeling well enough to want nuggets. But, then he tells me that his body is trembling. I take his temp again 101.3. I'm surprised that it's still rising when he just had Tylenol 2 hours ago. Now, I remember that he has a slightly infected ingrown toenail (we just discovered Friday). Maybe the infection is causing the fever. I call the doctor's office again. They tell me to come in. OK, I'll be right in. I go wake up Avery, who's already gotten in a 2 hour nap. We start to get ready to leave and then I remember that I don't have a vehicle. Matt's car is still in the shop and he drove the van to work. Pooh! I call my mom. No answer. I call my dad. He doesn't have a vehicle. He tells me to blow up my mom's phone, telling me that's what he does when she doesn't answer. Knowing how much it drives me nuts when people do this to me, I opt for sending her a quick text instead. After a few minutes without response, I call my Grandma. Grandma's recovering from surgery and I don't know how well she's doing and I feel bad for asking her for a favor, but she is happy to help.
On the way to the doctor, the car shop calls. Matt's car is done. Hmmm. Nice timing. We get into the doctor's office and the nurse comes in to talk to us about Elliot's symptoms. I'm feeling foolish for taking him in all the while. She checks out his toenail and said that it's not bad enough to cause the fever. She advises that we just treat it with neosporin. By the time the doctor comes in, I'm feeling like a jerk for wasting his time. He says that Elliot's throat is a little red and pulls out the long q-tip. He just wants to "tickle Elliot's tongue". Haha! Nice try. Elliot's not falling for it. He's been through this before and he flat out refuses. The doctor says he'll send the nurse in to do it! I find this rather amusing! The nurse comes in and tries to talk Elliot into letting her do the strep test, but he's not going for it. He wants to do it himself. No. Then, she tells him that if he doesn't let her do it, then the doctor comes back in and the have to pin him down and plug his nose so he has to open his mouth to breathe. He gives in! The test is positive...aha! I'm not such a jerk after all. I'm glad we have an answer, sorry Elliot has strep throat, but glad the strep test was not in vain.
OK, we're well into Monday, so I guess the "Full Weekend" post should end...
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Awakenings
I've never been able to understood when people say that they can't sleep at night. I just couldn't comprehend it. I've always been a good sleeper. My mom says she checked on me all the time as an infant because I slept so much. I sleep through all kinds of noise and I can sleep just about anywhere. That is, until recently. Suddenly, I'm waking up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep. How frustrating! Mostly, it's been around 4am and I've decided that instead of lying in bed trying to fall back to sleep for an hour and a half, that I might as well just get up and get some things done.
Early this morning I woke up when Matt got up to go to the bathroom. I thought it was time to get up. Nope. It was 1:15. I couldn't go back to sleep. Neither could Matt. We each tossed and turned in silence for awhile. I finally got out of bed at 2am.
So, what did I do during my awakening? I cleaned the bathroom downstairs. I sorted the laundry and threw in a load of darks. I checked email and facebook, posted a blog, signed Elliot up for another swim session, updated the calendar for April, updated my "to do" list, put the darks in the dryer and threw in a load of whites. I went back to bed at 3am, feeling tired, but not really sleepy. Matt was sleeping. Good for him. I tossed and turned long enough to hear the whites finish in the washer. Then, finally glorious sleep came to me. Needless to say, 5:20 came really fast. I made an extra cup of coffee this morning. I'm pretty sure I'll need it!
Early this morning I woke up when Matt got up to go to the bathroom. I thought it was time to get up. Nope. It was 1:15. I couldn't go back to sleep. Neither could Matt. We each tossed and turned in silence for awhile. I finally got out of bed at 2am.
So, what did I do during my awakening? I cleaned the bathroom downstairs. I sorted the laundry and threw in a load of darks. I checked email and facebook, posted a blog, signed Elliot up for another swim session, updated the calendar for April, updated my "to do" list, put the darks in the dryer and threw in a load of whites. I went back to bed at 3am, feeling tired, but not really sleepy. Matt was sleeping. Good for him. I tossed and turned long enough to hear the whites finish in the washer. Then, finally glorious sleep came to me. Needless to say, 5:20 came really fast. I made an extra cup of coffee this morning. I'm pretty sure I'll need it!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Mmm...that's good eats
What a glorious day! It's about 1pm, Amelia (18 mo.) is inside napping, I have Ethan (9 mo.) and Avery (11 mo.) outside with me. I've brought a bucket of plastic food out with us and we're sitting in the grass, playing with food, enjoying the day. The neighbor girls who are home on spring break have come over to join us. Avery starts crawling for the flower bed which is squishy from recent rain. I pull her back to the grass and toys and glance at Ethan. What's he chewing on? I'm studying this piece of brown something that he's got in his hand. The hand is at the mouth of course and he's having fun trying out whatever it is. Hmmm, sure doesn't look like any of the plastic food pieces that I can think of. It doesn't look like a leaf, twig, or piece of dirt. I move closer to observe. Is it a string? No, a big fat juicy earthworm! I scream like a little girl, yanking the worm from his hand and tossing it across the yard. Eeeewww! I turn back to see Avery in the flower bed squishiness with a mouthful of mud.
Friday, March 12, 2010
My son, the old man
Elliot needs a magnet for a homework assignment. His teacher let him borrow one from school, but he accidentally left it in the car of the family that brings him home. He's very upset about it. I let him use the magnetic clip from the refrigerator.
Flashforward two days: Why is this grocery list lying on the counter? I thought I put it on the fridge. Hmmm, the magnetic clip that was holding it is missing.
"Elliot, did you take my clip to school?"
"No."
"Where is it? You used it for your homework, and now it's missing."
"Oh yea, the other day, I had it in my room and I just opened it up and it just fell apart. All I did was open it."
"You BROKE it?"
I must have perfected my mad mom glare because he bursts into tears. I'm shocked. Holy Crap! Did my look seriously make the boy cry? Now I feel bad. Elliot's storming off to his bedroom, feelings hurt. I stop him. "Why are you crying? I didn't even yell at you. It's not a big deal." I proceed to tell Elliot the story of something I did that was way worse. I borrowed my mom's promise ring that my dad had given her when she was 16. I lost it. It was never found. The ring was way more important than any silly clip. I assure him that I'm not mad.
"What's a promise ring?"
"It's a ring that a boy gives a girl when they like each other."
"Why doesn't the boy get a ring?"
"I don't know. I guess because a promise ring is like a promise that the boy is going to ask the girl to marry him."
Silence. I remember suddenly that my son has just asked me recently whether a girl can be a friend without being a girlfriend if you don't love her. Now, I'm realizing that he's been putting gel in his hair all week. Eek!
"You're not allowed to give any girl a promise ring until your 20."
"I'm never getting married."
"What do you mean you're never getting married? How am I going to have grandbabies?
"Avery can have them."
"Oh, what are you going to do, be a priest?"
"No, I'm just gonna be a lazy old man who does nothing but watch TV."
His dad's response, "Sorry, that job is taken."
Flashforward two days: Why is this grocery list lying on the counter? I thought I put it on the fridge. Hmmm, the magnetic clip that was holding it is missing.
"Elliot, did you take my clip to school?"
"No."
"Where is it? You used it for your homework, and now it's missing."
"Oh yea, the other day, I had it in my room and I just opened it up and it just fell apart. All I did was open it."
"You BROKE it?"
I must have perfected my mad mom glare because he bursts into tears. I'm shocked. Holy Crap! Did my look seriously make the boy cry? Now I feel bad. Elliot's storming off to his bedroom, feelings hurt. I stop him. "Why are you crying? I didn't even yell at you. It's not a big deal." I proceed to tell Elliot the story of something I did that was way worse. I borrowed my mom's promise ring that my dad had given her when she was 16. I lost it. It was never found. The ring was way more important than any silly clip. I assure him that I'm not mad.
"What's a promise ring?"
"It's a ring that a boy gives a girl when they like each other."
"Why doesn't the boy get a ring?"
"I don't know. I guess because a promise ring is like a promise that the boy is going to ask the girl to marry him."
Silence. I remember suddenly that my son has just asked me recently whether a girl can be a friend without being a girlfriend if you don't love her. Now, I'm realizing that he's been putting gel in his hair all week. Eek!
"You're not allowed to give any girl a promise ring until your 20."
"I'm never getting married."
"What do you mean you're never getting married? How am I going to have grandbabies?
"Avery can have them."
"Oh, what are you going to do, be a priest?"
"No, I'm just gonna be a lazy old man who does nothing but watch TV."
His dad's response, "Sorry, that job is taken."
Monday, February 1, 2010
Push
I don't know if I have the heart to finish Push. This book has made me SO incredibly sad. My heart breaks with every page. But, in a way, I feel like a hypocrite if I don't finish it. It feels hypocritical that I don't have the guts to read the book, even though I get to return to my nice cozy world when I put the book down. Countless numbers of girls actually LIVE this life.
But, I don't really return to my cozy little world when I put the book down. The book haunts me. I think about it constantly--when I'm changing my baby's diaper, when I'm nursing her, when I get frustrated with my husband or my kids, when I'm cooking, when I'm lying in bed at night. I can't get away from it. It makes me so sad for this girl and for all the people like her who live this life all around the world. What a shame. What a tragedy.
OK, I know this book is fiction, but it encapsulates real stories of real lives of real people. This interview that Katie Couric did with the author (http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=5426254n) makes me feel a little better. It gives me hope. It makes me want to finish my education degree!
But, I don't really return to my cozy little world when I put the book down. The book haunts me. I think about it constantly--when I'm changing my baby's diaper, when I'm nursing her, when I get frustrated with my husband or my kids, when I'm cooking, when I'm lying in bed at night. I can't get away from it. It makes me so sad for this girl and for all the people like her who live this life all around the world. What a shame. What a tragedy.
OK, I know this book is fiction, but it encapsulates real stories of real lives of real people. This interview that Katie Couric did with the author (http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=5426254n) makes me feel a little better. It gives me hope. It makes me want to finish my education degree!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
The Bath
Now that Avery is mobile, bath time is much more hectic. Tonight's events:
1. blocked the faucet so she didn't scalp herself on it while she stood up underneath it (note to self--need to buy one of those little rubber duckies that cover the faucet).
2. Avery pulled up on the side of the tub about 20 times. Two of those times, she let go with both hands. One of those times, she went pee.
3. While Avery was lying on her back in the water and I was rinsing her hair, she decided she didn't want to be on her back anymore and rolled over. Boy, was she surprised.
1. blocked the faucet so she didn't scalp herself on it while she stood up underneath it (note to self--need to buy one of those little rubber duckies that cover the faucet).
2. Avery pulled up on the side of the tub about 20 times. Two of those times, she let go with both hands. One of those times, she went pee.
3. While Avery was lying on her back in the water and I was rinsing her hair, she decided she didn't want to be on her back anymore and rolled over. Boy, was she surprised.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Elliot
Last Friday Elliot brought home a book from the school library--a book about the New England Patriots. Matt and I teased him about getting a book about the Pats. This morning, he was reading the book while eating breakfast and he started laughing. "Look, Mom, the Patriots lost to the Giants in this game 17-14. That's why I got this book--to read about when they lose, not about when they win." That's our boy!!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Sidekick
Matt wants a new cell phone. He wants a full keyboard, so he can text. We have T-Mobile and our options are limited. Those options have been narrowed down--a Gravity (the one I have and Matt hates it), a Blackberry (he won't even consider it), or a touch screen (out of our price range). We've been talking about cell phones for several months now. Randomly, one of us will search to see if we can find anything new.
Yesterday, I searched and found the Sidekick. It was only $50. I thought this was a phone he considered once before and I've decided that we should just shell out the $50 so he can have a new phone. I wanted to ask him what he thought about the phone. I forgot about it.
Tonight, we're lying in bed watching TV and a commercial for T-Mobile comes on. Aha!
Amanda: "Hey, do you want a sidekick?"
Matt: "A sidekick? Like a midget or something?"
I can't stop laughing.
Yesterday, I searched and found the Sidekick. It was only $50. I thought this was a phone he considered once before and I've decided that we should just shell out the $50 so he can have a new phone. I wanted to ask him what he thought about the phone. I forgot about it.
Tonight, we're lying in bed watching TV and a commercial for T-Mobile comes on. Aha!
Amanda: "Hey, do you want a sidekick?"
Matt: "A sidekick? Like a midget or something?"
I can't stop laughing.
Last night
The baby's yelling. Not crying. Yelling. That means she's standing in her bed wanting someone to get her out of it. I sit up so I can see the clock on Matt's side of the bed (I can't see over him when he's lying on his side). It's 4:30. Maybe she'll lay herself back down. Guess not. She's still yelling. I nudge Matt's foot. "Go lay her back down," I tell him. No movement. I nudge him again. "Stop," he responds. I ask him to go lay the baby back down and he tells me to do it. Grrr! I get up and lay the baby back down. Now, she's screaming. I get back in bed, lie on my left side (this is important later) and put a pillow over my head. She's already standing back up. I can tell by the cry. Maybe Matt will get up and lay her back down now. Guess not. Now I have to pee. Maybe she needs Tylenol. I think she's teething. I didn't give her any before bed. Sigh.
I get up and go downstairs, stop at the bathroom on the way, and grab her Tylenol from the kitchen. I measure it in the kitchen so I don't have to turn the light on in her bedroom. I walk into Avery's room and she's standing in her bed. I try to give her the medicine while she's standing in her bed, but it's hard to hit a moving target in the dark. I pick her up and she stops screaming. I give her the Tylenol, lay her back down and walk out. She's screaming again. I climb back in bed, lying on my right side this time. I put the same pillow over my head. There's no more screaming. For a moment I think to myself, "damn, this pillow is sound proof." Then, I remember that it wasn't sound proof when I did this a few minutes ago. Now, I think, "Oh man, am I deaf in my left ear?" I'm really concerned about my sudden deafness. I raise the pillow off my head and lift up so my right ear (the non-deaf one) isn't smooshed into the bed. Oh, I'm not deaf after all. She really stopped crying. Just like that.
Hmmm...now begins the inner dialogue. "I hope something's not wrong with her. What if something's wrong with her. There's nothing wrong. She just went back to sleep. But it was so sudden. Maybe I should check on her. Then, I'll wake her up if she's really just asleep. I'm sure she's fine. I can't sleep on this side. Why did I lie on this side? I need to roll over. Groan. That'll take too much effort." I roll over to the left side again. "I can't sleep like this either. I need to be more on my stomach. I can't lie on my stomach, cause I'm engorged." Sigh. Now, I'm narrating this whole story in my head. "Stop! Turn it off. There is no audience at 4:30 in the morning. Stop narrating. Go to sleep." I look at the clock again. "Five o'clock! I have to get up in 45 minutes. Clear your mind, Amanda. Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep..."
I get up and go downstairs, stop at the bathroom on the way, and grab her Tylenol from the kitchen. I measure it in the kitchen so I don't have to turn the light on in her bedroom. I walk into Avery's room and she's standing in her bed. I try to give her the medicine while she's standing in her bed, but it's hard to hit a moving target in the dark. I pick her up and she stops screaming. I give her the Tylenol, lay her back down and walk out. She's screaming again. I climb back in bed, lying on my right side this time. I put the same pillow over my head. There's no more screaming. For a moment I think to myself, "damn, this pillow is sound proof." Then, I remember that it wasn't sound proof when I did this a few minutes ago. Now, I think, "Oh man, am I deaf in my left ear?" I'm really concerned about my sudden deafness. I raise the pillow off my head and lift up so my right ear (the non-deaf one) isn't smooshed into the bed. Oh, I'm not deaf after all. She really stopped crying. Just like that.
Hmmm...now begins the inner dialogue. "I hope something's not wrong with her. What if something's wrong with her. There's nothing wrong. She just went back to sleep. But it was so sudden. Maybe I should check on her. Then, I'll wake her up if she's really just asleep. I'm sure she's fine. I can't sleep on this side. Why did I lie on this side? I need to roll over. Groan. That'll take too much effort." I roll over to the left side again. "I can't sleep like this either. I need to be more on my stomach. I can't lie on my stomach, cause I'm engorged." Sigh. Now, I'm narrating this whole story in my head. "Stop! Turn it off. There is no audience at 4:30 in the morning. Stop narrating. Go to sleep." I look at the clock again. "Five o'clock! I have to get up in 45 minutes. Clear your mind, Amanda. Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep..."
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The Breach
The babies have just finished breakfast--oatmeal and fruit. I clean them up and set them on the floor to play while I clean up the breakfast mess. Avery has scoot-crawled (one knee under her in classic crawl mode while the other is out to the side so she can use her foot to propel herself forward) to the toy bins in the corner of the room. Ethan is chewing on a plush bear rattle.
I come over to play with the babies before nap time, but find as a draw closer that a foul odor permeates the air. It's Ethan. Holy stinky! Ethan and I discuss the stinkiness of his pants. He admonishes me for mocking this natural body function and I agree that I should not be so rude. All the while, I'm preparing him for diaper changing. I've laid him on the rug, placed a water-proof changing pad under his bum and grabbed the diaper change bucket. The diaper change bucket holds all of the necessary supplies for each of the babies--diapers, wipes, changing pads, sanitizer, and diaper creams.
I'm seated on the floor at the stinky end of the baby, left leg folded in front of me while the right is stretched out along side him. I pull his pants off and toss them to the side (still conversing about the natural process of moving one's bowels). I reach for the leg and my hand lands in something squishy. This draws my eyes away from Ethan's face to find that his left leg is green. I look over at the pants sitting on the rug and realize that the green is oozing out of them, as well. I move them to the wood floor, as this will be easier to clean. I use a dozen or more wipes to get him cleaned up. I pile all the clothes on the floor. Avery has decided that we must be having a lot of fun because mommy's saying things like, "wow", "oh man", "what on earth". She's come over to investigate. She tries to pull the changing pad out from under Ethan. I tell her "no", a word that has been used 200% more often in the past 3 days (since she learned the scoot-crawl).
Once Ethan is wiped down and in a clean diaper, I bag up the dirty clothes, put the changing pad in the laundry, double bag the diaper and wipes, clean up the floor and put clean clothes on him. I scrub my hands and return to the rug to read books to the babies, as it's now nap time. Then, I remember that I have to change Avery. Luckily, she's just wet. I put the babies to bed and come back downstairs.
I dump the dirty clothes in the toilet, while I sort my laundry in order to wash a full load. I get the whites in the washer, pour in the detergent, vinegar and lemon juice. The washer is set to "hot" and "heavy" (that makes me giggle). I return to the bathroom with rubber gloves and the "dirty" bucket (marked with X's, so that it is used for jobs such as this and not to wash baby toys). The clothes are rinsed and wrung and placed in the bucket. I'm pretty sure that I've gotten everything out, but can't see because the water is now green. The white onesie and socks go in the washer with the rest of the whites. I scrub my gloved hands in the kitchen sink, remove the gloves and scrub my hands. Now that all is clean and I've had my hands in water so long I have to use the bathroom. As I finish in the bathroom I cast a glance in the mirror and "what's that?" I've got poo smudged across the front of my fleece. Ugh!
I come over to play with the babies before nap time, but find as a draw closer that a foul odor permeates the air. It's Ethan. Holy stinky! Ethan and I discuss the stinkiness of his pants. He admonishes me for mocking this natural body function and I agree that I should not be so rude. All the while, I'm preparing him for diaper changing. I've laid him on the rug, placed a water-proof changing pad under his bum and grabbed the diaper change bucket. The diaper change bucket holds all of the necessary supplies for each of the babies--diapers, wipes, changing pads, sanitizer, and diaper creams.
I'm seated on the floor at the stinky end of the baby, left leg folded in front of me while the right is stretched out along side him. I pull his pants off and toss them to the side (still conversing about the natural process of moving one's bowels). I reach for the leg and my hand lands in something squishy. This draws my eyes away from Ethan's face to find that his left leg is green. I look over at the pants sitting on the rug and realize that the green is oozing out of them, as well. I move them to the wood floor, as this will be easier to clean. I use a dozen or more wipes to get him cleaned up. I pile all the clothes on the floor. Avery has decided that we must be having a lot of fun because mommy's saying things like, "wow", "oh man", "what on earth". She's come over to investigate. She tries to pull the changing pad out from under Ethan. I tell her "no", a word that has been used 200% more often in the past 3 days (since she learned the scoot-crawl).
Once Ethan is wiped down and in a clean diaper, I bag up the dirty clothes, put the changing pad in the laundry, double bag the diaper and wipes, clean up the floor and put clean clothes on him. I scrub my hands and return to the rug to read books to the babies, as it's now nap time. Then, I remember that I have to change Avery. Luckily, she's just wet. I put the babies to bed and come back downstairs.
I dump the dirty clothes in the toilet, while I sort my laundry in order to wash a full load. I get the whites in the washer, pour in the detergent, vinegar and lemon juice. The washer is set to "hot" and "heavy" (that makes me giggle). I return to the bathroom with rubber gloves and the "dirty" bucket (marked with X's, so that it is used for jobs such as this and not to wash baby toys). The clothes are rinsed and wrung and placed in the bucket. I'm pretty sure that I've gotten everything out, but can't see because the water is now green. The white onesie and socks go in the washer with the rest of the whites. I scrub my gloved hands in the kitchen sink, remove the gloves and scrub my hands. Now that all is clean and I've had my hands in water so long I have to use the bathroom. As I finish in the bathroom I cast a glance in the mirror and "what's that?" I've got poo smudged across the front of my fleece. Ugh!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Genius
In an effort to be more Earth-friendly, I've been using white vinegar to clean my house for about a year. Last week, I used baking soda to clean the shower and tub for the first time. I was fairly impressed. The tile spiffed right up. I did have a hard time finding a good way to get the baking soda onto the scrub brush. When I tried to sprinkle the baking soda big clumps plopped out into the bathtub. Then, I'd have to pick up the big clump and try to set it on my scrub brush and quickly pound it against the wall of the shower without dropping it. I decided that I needed a container that would allow me to sprinkle it...like the Comet containers. A couple days later, we emptied a container of grated Parmesan cheese. Aha! Here was my container. I washed it out and poured my baking soda in, labeled it and put it away with the other cleaners. I'm so smart!
Now, there was one particular spot that the baking soda did not remove. Under the old non-slip bath mat (which was replaced during that recent baking soda cleaning), was a dark stain that would not come off. I decided that I would try another trick that I've read about...lemon juice and salt. I bought my lemon a week ago and it's been sitting with the other citrus fruits that are slowly rotting on my kitchen table--no one in my family will eat Grapefruit or nectarines except me and I'm not even that inspired.
All week, as I've been reminding myself that I need to test out the lemon and salt on the bathtub (Yes, I'm a procrastinator), I've been trying to think of some brilliant container to hold the salt. After all, I don't want to take the whole container up there. It would be nice to have some other smaller container--like my Parmesan cheese/baking soda idea (remember, I'm feeling very smart). So, for a week, these thoughts have been bouncing around in my head (did I mention that I'm a terrible procrastinator?).
This morning I realized that my genius has been out done. For some other brilliant person has already come up with a small container to hold salt...a container that has small holes that would allow a person to shake small portions of salt. It's called a salt shaker! Honestly, it took me a week to realize that! So, who's feeling smart now?
Now, there was one particular spot that the baking soda did not remove. Under the old non-slip bath mat (which was replaced during that recent baking soda cleaning), was a dark stain that would not come off. I decided that I would try another trick that I've read about...lemon juice and salt. I bought my lemon a week ago and it's been sitting with the other citrus fruits that are slowly rotting on my kitchen table--no one in my family will eat Grapefruit or nectarines except me and I'm not even that inspired.
All week, as I've been reminding myself that I need to test out the lemon and salt on the bathtub (Yes, I'm a procrastinator), I've been trying to think of some brilliant container to hold the salt. After all, I don't want to take the whole container up there. It would be nice to have some other smaller container--like my Parmesan cheese/baking soda idea (remember, I'm feeling very smart). So, for a week, these thoughts have been bouncing around in my head (did I mention that I'm a terrible procrastinator?).
This morning I realized that my genius has been out done. For some other brilliant person has already come up with a small container to hold salt...a container that has small holes that would allow a person to shake small portions of salt. It's called a salt shaker! Honestly, it took me a week to realize that! So, who's feeling smart now?
Friday, January 8, 2010
Shhhh....Turn That Light Off...Sorry!
For the sake of my husband, I must aplogize and clarify that I do not think my husband is a jerk. My reference in my earlier blog "The Morning" was to reinforce my unwillingness to wake up earlier than was absolutely necessary. Perhaps a little background information is required here.
Matt is one of those people who wakes before the alarm clock goes off and rises immediately. From the moment that his feet hit the floor he is ready for the day to begin. He's all too happy to have lights blazing and start a conversation with anyone who also happens to be awake.
Unfortunately, that person is me. Don't get me wrong. I love my husband dearly. He has many fine qualities and his morning disposition would be considered highly desirable by most. However, I am of the breed that takes a little more time to get my chipper on. Where he wakes before the alarm, I'm more likely to press snooze multiple times. In fact, I've been known to walk fully across the bedroom, turn the alarm clock off and return to bed, never remembering that any such thing occurred. While my husband is ready to start the day right away, I require time to adjust. I require time, quiet and darkness. Yes, these are all the elements that were present while I was sleeping, but I need each to stick with me for a bit longer until I'm ready to face the day.
So, when the light from the bathroom trespasses my eyelids before I've even had the chance to hit the snooze button, I bury myself under my pillows and blankets looking for reprieve and mentally curse the person who would cause me such distress, even if it's the one person I love most in the world.
I must also retract my statement about Matt not telling me goodbye before he left for work. He says that he kissed me on the head and told me goodbye. Evidently, I really did sleep that extra three minutes.
Love you, honey!
Matt is one of those people who wakes before the alarm clock goes off and rises immediately. From the moment that his feet hit the floor he is ready for the day to begin. He's all too happy to have lights blazing and start a conversation with anyone who also happens to be awake.
Unfortunately, that person is me. Don't get me wrong. I love my husband dearly. He has many fine qualities and his morning disposition would be considered highly desirable by most. However, I am of the breed that takes a little more time to get my chipper on. Where he wakes before the alarm, I'm more likely to press snooze multiple times. In fact, I've been known to walk fully across the bedroom, turn the alarm clock off and return to bed, never remembering that any such thing occurred. While my husband is ready to start the day right away, I require time to adjust. I require time, quiet and darkness. Yes, these are all the elements that were present while I was sleeping, but I need each to stick with me for a bit longer until I'm ready to face the day.
So, when the light from the bathroom trespasses my eyelids before I've even had the chance to hit the snooze button, I bury myself under my pillows and blankets looking for reprieve and mentally curse the person who would cause me such distress, even if it's the one person I love most in the world.
I must also retract my statement about Matt not telling me goodbye before he left for work. He says that he kissed me on the head and told me goodbye. Evidently, I really did sleep that extra three minutes.
Love you, honey!
Recipe
Microwave Egg
For hard yolk: butter the bottom of a glass bowl or coat with cooking spray. Break egg into bowl. Break the yolk. Cover the bowl with a paper towel and microwave on high 40 seconds. If the egg pops before 40 seconds, it's done.
For soft yolk: follow directions above, but do not break the yolk and microwave only 35 seconds.
For hard yolk: butter the bottom of a glass bowl or coat with cooking spray. Break egg into bowl. Break the yolk. Cover the bowl with a paper towel and microwave on high 40 seconds. If the egg pops before 40 seconds, it's done.
For soft yolk: follow directions above, but do not break the yolk and microwave only 35 seconds.
items of concern and why they shouldn't be
So, this started out as a listing of the things that are frustrating me lately. Then, I decided that it sounded like I was a bit ungrateful...so I decided to find the silver lining in each item. I'm feeling much better now!
- I've taken up running very recently and every part of my body from my knees down is aching. Should I be concerned or is this just part of the normalness of running? The good news is that I'm running and mostly enjoying it! Also, I've gotten several of my girlfriends to join me at the gym too, which makes it that much more enjoyable.
- Elliot hasn't gotten a seasonal flu shot or his second round of H1N1. When we attempted to get his seasonal at Avery's last checkup, he flat out refused. What do you do with that, short of tackling and sitting on him while the nurse gives him the shot? I even tried bribing him with McDonalds. We're supposed to make a second attempt at her next appt later this month. This time, I'm walking out of the room and leaving it to the dr. office staff to tackle and sit on him. The question is, should I forewarn him or let him be surprised? Hmmm... The good news is that he hasn't gotten the flu. He's been pretty healthy this year (knock on wood).
- In lieu of a party for Elliot's birthday, we do something special with him and let him bring a friend along. This year, he chose to go to a Pacer game. Here is the concern: the Pacer game was only an option because he received a certificate for BOGO tickets through a contest at school. I failed to send the order form in by the due date :( I'm hoping that since the Pacers aren't exactly selling out games these days and that we upgraded the two free tickets in addition to purchasing two tickets that they will let us do it anyway. The up-side is that we have a plan B. If we can't go to the Pacer game, we'll go see the Globetrotters. I hope that the Globetrotters don't sell out.
- Why, oh why do I have this stupid skin issue on my ring finger? It won't go away. My dr. thinks it's a metal allergy. I've been wearing these rings for 13 years and now I'm allergic to them? I can't wear them and it makes me sad...and I think Matt's a bit peeved too. The good news is that Matt and I have been married 11 years. I'm so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. The rings do not make the marriage.
- The garbage disposal is not working, the shed doors are falling off, the shower in the master bath is leaking, the basement is still not finished, we don't have enough furniture in the basement for the family to sit down to watch TV, the living room is in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint, and so on... Um, hello! We have a house. We have heat and mostly working appliances. We still have one working shower. The basement, while not completely finished is at least liveable.
- I'm sick of wearing sweat pants everyday, but my jeans still don't fit comfortably. This week, I was asked by a 4-year old why I was wearing pajamas. Talk about a blow to the self-esteem. The good news is that I get to stay home with my baby and she doesn't care what I wear!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
The morning
It's still dark and Matt is awake and has the bathroom light on, which is flooding into my eyes, despite my best efforts to keep them closed. Crap, I guess I have to get up soon. I'll just wait for my alarm to go off. No sense in getting up before I really have to. The alarm is not going off. Why? Did I not set it right? What time is it? 5:42. No wonder. I don't have to get up for another 3 minutes. I ponder what a jerk my husband is for waking me before I'm supposed to be awake. Then I roll over and put a pillow over my eyes, as though the next 3 minutes will provide me with quality slumber. The alarm goes off. Matt has already left the bedroom. I can hear that he's already woken Elliot. I flip on the TV and listen to Chuck Lofton tell me that the map of Indiana is covered in blue because we're expecting 3-6 inches of snow today. As it's been snowing for 3 hours already (Chuck told me this too), I watch the school closings scroll across the bottom of the screen. St. Monica is not closed. I'm not surprised. I climb out of bed and start my morning routine. Turn water on in the sink to hot and let it run while I put my hair up, brush my teeth and get dressed. When I get ready to wash my face, the water is luke warm. By the time I've finished lathering my face the water is toasty. I'm a happy girl! Then, of course, comes the beautification...astringent (because at 32, my face still breaks out), Oil of Olay (because I'm 32), then minimal makeup because I'm staying home with two babies today, but one never knows if the people from Publisher's Clearing House might show up on my doorstep and I would like to look presentable for the camera. Of course, I never participate in the Publisher's Clearing House, so it's fairly certain that they won't show up. Jerks! I make the bed and consider putting away the laundry that's folded in the laundry basket on the chair, but decide that I'll do it later.
I come downstairs to find that Matt's already left. What, no goodbye, no hug and kiss? Probably his boots got wet when he shoveled the driveway and he didn't want to track through the house to come upstairs to tell me goodbye and since the baby is still sleeping he couldn't yell to me. Bye, honey. Elliot informs me that he has eaten a cereal bar and is still hungry. He wants waffles, but can't find them. I start for the basement, which is where I usually keep the frozen waffles. Elliot informs me that they're not down there. Daddy already checked and then yells at me for standing with the basement door open because the cat is sitting there. I shut the door quickly as the cat has been banished to the basement for the naughty business that she's been doing on the carpet upstairs. Elliot assures me that he's fed the cat despite the fact that she was sitting next to her empty food dish looking at me.
Now, where are the waffles? He's right. They're not downstairs. They're not in the freezer in the garage and they're not in the freezer in the kitchen (seriously, I've got 3 freezers). Now, I'm ticked off. I know I bought a case of waffles the last time I went to Sam's Club. I remember buying them. What happened to them? Did I leave them in the cart? Leave them in the back of the van? Surely not, I would have noticed them by now. Where could they be? I'm slightly perterbed. I offer Elliot and egg instead. Matt, in a moment of recent brilliance, introduced us to the microwave egg. Fourty seconds in the microwave and bam, a nicely cooked egg! Much less mess than dealing with a frying pan and they come out in a perfect circle, perfect for an English muffin. Except we're out of English muffins, so I put Elliot's on piece of toast cut in half instead. I make one for myself using 12 grain bread instead of white. I'm trying to be healthier, you know. Midway through, Elliot asks for some orange juice, which I also decide sounds perfect with the egg sandwich.
I send Elliot upstairs to make his bed and brush his teeth. In the meantime, I unload the dishwasher. When he comes back down, it's quarter of seven. I read him a chapter from the first Narnia Book. He's participating in a reading program for school in which he charts the number of minutes that he reads or is read to each day. If he logs 1200 minutes, he is entered into a contest to win a $1000 savings bond. Although, I know our odds aren't good, Elliot is highly competitive and this contest affords the perfect opportunity for me to encourage him to read more. In fact, I've not had to encourage him at all. I find him reading all the time the last few days. I'm really enjoying the Narnia book, so I'm pretty motivated to read to him, as well. In fact, I find it difficult not to read the book while he's at school.
We finish the chapter at 7:00, I send Elliot to get his coat on. I start quizzing him on his spelling words before I remember that he has a religion test today. I pull the religion book out of his book bag and quiz him on chapter 5 instead. Elliot's answer to how the Holy Spirit helps us...to make us be good. I'm pretty sure this is not a great answer and since I don't know the answer myself, I start flipping through the chapter for more information. Aha! The Holy Spirit provides us with courage and faith. I explain this to Elliot and tell him that there are a lot of people in the world who aren't Catholic, who don't like Catholics, or who don't believe in God at all. I tell him that the Holy Spirit gives us the courage and faith to stand up for what we believe. Elliot responds that he would just punch those people in the face. I'm pretty sure that's not what Jesus wants us to do. I try to explain this as well, but to no avail. He just keeps coming up with other ways that he would hurt these people. I sit on the stairs to start putting my boots on because I've realized that the driveway is covered in snow again. Elliot's ride shows up and he leaves while I'm tying my boots. I sweep the snow off the drive and sidewalk.
Back inside, I find that it's 7:23. I have 7 minutes before I need to wake up the baby to keep her on schedule. I pour a cup of coffee and sit down with the sudoku book that I bought for Elliot. Mostly, I do them and sometimes he helps me. I look row by row and column by column, plugging in three more numbers. It's 7:30 and I need to wake the baby.
Avery, with her adorable self is all smiles when I wake her up. I nurse her in my bedroom while watching Chuck Lofton again. The Today show is not on because the local affiliate feels that we need constant coverage of the snow. Three reporters in different locations around the city report in on the snow in that area and how the traffic is moving. They look cold standing out there. I get Avery dressed and set her on my bedroom floor to play with some toys while I put the laundry away.
I balance the baby on my right hip, my nearly empty coffee cup looped around my left thumb and the empty laundry basket in my left hand as I head down the stairs, thinking all the way that it's probably not a good idea. Oh well. We all made it safe and sound. Avery sits on the rug to play with toys and ends up within seconds on her belly. She's become very adept at getting onto her hands and knees to reach for toys, but she hasn't figured out how to crawl so she just flops down on her belly. Then, she gets mad because she doesn't like to be on her belly. I've vowed (in my head, just at this moment) that I'm not going to pick her up anymore. She's got to figure this out. Instead, I lift her by the waist onto her knees and help her move toward her toys. Here, she ceremoniously flops to her belly again and starts yelling. I lift her hips over and over before she finally pushes herself up to a sitting position. Now she's too far away from the toys to reach them. So, she goes back to hands and knees to get to the toys and flops back on her belly. I pick her up and sit her down within reach of the toys.
While she plays I fold the laundry that came out of the dryer last night just before I went to the gym. While the car was warming up in the garage, I laid it flat so it wouldn't be wrinkled . I had another load that needed to be in the dryer and I knew that when I got home from the gym at 10pm I wouldn't want to deal with it. So, this morning I fold the laundry and refill the previously empty basket. Then, turn on the dryer to fluff the load that had gone in last night. I load the dishwasher of the pots and pans that did not fit in the dishwasher last night along with our breakfast dishes. I decide that I'm going to wait until after the babies have breakfast before I run it.
Avery's getting upset because she's on her belly once again. It's 8:30 now. Ethan should be arriving any time and Avery's ready for breakfast. I sit her in the booster seat and give her a spoon to chew on while I cut up her fruit. I bought canteloupe for her. It's not in the least bit ripe. It has no flavor and is rather hard. I figure she doesn't know the difference, so I cut it up into small pieces and dump them on her tray. Ethan arrives. I put him on the floor in front of Avery. They flirt with each other and I give him the "kitchen toys". The kitchen toys consist of two different sized plastic butter tubs, a small wooden spoon, a tupperware dish and an emptied onion powder container that I threw some paperclips in. The latter is a favorite. It's a great size for their little hands and makes a fun noise. In the meantime, I prepare Ethan's oatmeal. I have to put some more oats in the food processor because I'm almost out. He's just started on chunkier foods this week. I heat Avery's oatmeal. I made it earlier in the week and refrigerated small portions for her. I decide that I'm going to let her try to feed herself oatmeal this morning. I spoon feed Ethan, while I drop glops of oatmeal on Avery's tray. She has fun feeding herself and making a huge mess. When Ethan is finished, I clean him up and give him his spoon to play with while Avery finishes. I break out the video camera to capture the oatmeal mess. I try three times. Each time ending with her trying to pull her bib off. I turn off the camera and fix the bib each time. After the third time, I decide that she's done with the oatmeal. I clean her off and set her and Ethan on the floor to play and commence the great oatmeal cleanup.
Avery starts fussing. Big surprise, she's on her belly again. I continue to clean up the oatmeal until her fuss turns into a scream. Ethan's got a handful of Avery's hair. I pry his kung-fu grip out of her hair and sit her up again. She's not having it. I sit and play with the babies for a few minutes before I realize that it's 20 after 9:00. I change both babies' diapers and read them a few books. I carry them both up the stairs and put them to bed.
Back downstairs, I finish cleaning up the oatmeal, load the dishwasher and run it. I fold the laundry from the dryer, pick up the baby toys, and put the load of delicates that had been hanging up in the basement to dry into the dryer to fluff. I sit down to pump. I'm supposed to be giving the pump back to the person who lent it to me at the end of the month. I want to make sure I have some milk stored in the freezer. As I'm pumping, I'm telling myself the story of my morning and decide that today is the day that I will start the blog that I've been telling myself for months that I should start. While the laptop boots up, I fold the delicates. The laundry basket is filled to capacity, again. The babies sleep! Ethan has just woken, is drinking a bottle and pushing out a poo! Gotta run!
P.S. I remembered that I didn't buy waffles at Sam's. They've been out the past two times that I've gone. Maybe they're not carrying them anymore...
I come downstairs to find that Matt's already left. What, no goodbye, no hug and kiss? Probably his boots got wet when he shoveled the driveway and he didn't want to track through the house to come upstairs to tell me goodbye and since the baby is still sleeping he couldn't yell to me. Bye, honey. Elliot informs me that he has eaten a cereal bar and is still hungry. He wants waffles, but can't find them. I start for the basement, which is where I usually keep the frozen waffles. Elliot informs me that they're not down there. Daddy already checked and then yells at me for standing with the basement door open because the cat is sitting there. I shut the door quickly as the cat has been banished to the basement for the naughty business that she's been doing on the carpet upstairs. Elliot assures me that he's fed the cat despite the fact that she was sitting next to her empty food dish looking at me.
Now, where are the waffles? He's right. They're not downstairs. They're not in the freezer in the garage and they're not in the freezer in the kitchen (seriously, I've got 3 freezers). Now, I'm ticked off. I know I bought a case of waffles the last time I went to Sam's Club. I remember buying them. What happened to them? Did I leave them in the cart? Leave them in the back of the van? Surely not, I would have noticed them by now. Where could they be? I'm slightly perterbed. I offer Elliot and egg instead. Matt, in a moment of recent brilliance, introduced us to the microwave egg. Fourty seconds in the microwave and bam, a nicely cooked egg! Much less mess than dealing with a frying pan and they come out in a perfect circle, perfect for an English muffin. Except we're out of English muffins, so I put Elliot's on piece of toast cut in half instead. I make one for myself using 12 grain bread instead of white. I'm trying to be healthier, you know. Midway through, Elliot asks for some orange juice, which I also decide sounds perfect with the egg sandwich.
I send Elliot upstairs to make his bed and brush his teeth. In the meantime, I unload the dishwasher. When he comes back down, it's quarter of seven. I read him a chapter from the first Narnia Book. He's participating in a reading program for school in which he charts the number of minutes that he reads or is read to each day. If he logs 1200 minutes, he is entered into a contest to win a $1000 savings bond. Although, I know our odds aren't good, Elliot is highly competitive and this contest affords the perfect opportunity for me to encourage him to read more. In fact, I've not had to encourage him at all. I find him reading all the time the last few days. I'm really enjoying the Narnia book, so I'm pretty motivated to read to him, as well. In fact, I find it difficult not to read the book while he's at school.
We finish the chapter at 7:00, I send Elliot to get his coat on. I start quizzing him on his spelling words before I remember that he has a religion test today. I pull the religion book out of his book bag and quiz him on chapter 5 instead. Elliot's answer to how the Holy Spirit helps us...to make us be good. I'm pretty sure this is not a great answer and since I don't know the answer myself, I start flipping through the chapter for more information. Aha! The Holy Spirit provides us with courage and faith. I explain this to Elliot and tell him that there are a lot of people in the world who aren't Catholic, who don't like Catholics, or who don't believe in God at all. I tell him that the Holy Spirit gives us the courage and faith to stand up for what we believe. Elliot responds that he would just punch those people in the face. I'm pretty sure that's not what Jesus wants us to do. I try to explain this as well, but to no avail. He just keeps coming up with other ways that he would hurt these people. I sit on the stairs to start putting my boots on because I've realized that the driveway is covered in snow again. Elliot's ride shows up and he leaves while I'm tying my boots. I sweep the snow off the drive and sidewalk.
Back inside, I find that it's 7:23. I have 7 minutes before I need to wake up the baby to keep her on schedule. I pour a cup of coffee and sit down with the sudoku book that I bought for Elliot. Mostly, I do them and sometimes he helps me. I look row by row and column by column, plugging in three more numbers. It's 7:30 and I need to wake the baby.
Avery, with her adorable self is all smiles when I wake her up. I nurse her in my bedroom while watching Chuck Lofton again. The Today show is not on because the local affiliate feels that we need constant coverage of the snow. Three reporters in different locations around the city report in on the snow in that area and how the traffic is moving. They look cold standing out there. I get Avery dressed and set her on my bedroom floor to play with some toys while I put the laundry away.
I balance the baby on my right hip, my nearly empty coffee cup looped around my left thumb and the empty laundry basket in my left hand as I head down the stairs, thinking all the way that it's probably not a good idea. Oh well. We all made it safe and sound. Avery sits on the rug to play with toys and ends up within seconds on her belly. She's become very adept at getting onto her hands and knees to reach for toys, but she hasn't figured out how to crawl so she just flops down on her belly. Then, she gets mad because she doesn't like to be on her belly. I've vowed (in my head, just at this moment) that I'm not going to pick her up anymore. She's got to figure this out. Instead, I lift her by the waist onto her knees and help her move toward her toys. Here, she ceremoniously flops to her belly again and starts yelling. I lift her hips over and over before she finally pushes herself up to a sitting position. Now she's too far away from the toys to reach them. So, she goes back to hands and knees to get to the toys and flops back on her belly. I pick her up and sit her down within reach of the toys.
While she plays I fold the laundry that came out of the dryer last night just before I went to the gym. While the car was warming up in the garage, I laid it flat so it wouldn't be wrinkled . I had another load that needed to be in the dryer and I knew that when I got home from the gym at 10pm I wouldn't want to deal with it. So, this morning I fold the laundry and refill the previously empty basket. Then, turn on the dryer to fluff the load that had gone in last night. I load the dishwasher of the pots and pans that did not fit in the dishwasher last night along with our breakfast dishes. I decide that I'm going to wait until after the babies have breakfast before I run it.
Avery's getting upset because she's on her belly once again. It's 8:30 now. Ethan should be arriving any time and Avery's ready for breakfast. I sit her in the booster seat and give her a spoon to chew on while I cut up her fruit. I bought canteloupe for her. It's not in the least bit ripe. It has no flavor and is rather hard. I figure she doesn't know the difference, so I cut it up into small pieces and dump them on her tray. Ethan arrives. I put him on the floor in front of Avery. They flirt with each other and I give him the "kitchen toys". The kitchen toys consist of two different sized plastic butter tubs, a small wooden spoon, a tupperware dish and an emptied onion powder container that I threw some paperclips in. The latter is a favorite. It's a great size for their little hands and makes a fun noise. In the meantime, I prepare Ethan's oatmeal. I have to put some more oats in the food processor because I'm almost out. He's just started on chunkier foods this week. I heat Avery's oatmeal. I made it earlier in the week and refrigerated small portions for her. I decide that I'm going to let her try to feed herself oatmeal this morning. I spoon feed Ethan, while I drop glops of oatmeal on Avery's tray. She has fun feeding herself and making a huge mess. When Ethan is finished, I clean him up and give him his spoon to play with while Avery finishes. I break out the video camera to capture the oatmeal mess. I try three times. Each time ending with her trying to pull her bib off. I turn off the camera and fix the bib each time. After the third time, I decide that she's done with the oatmeal. I clean her off and set her and Ethan on the floor to play and commence the great oatmeal cleanup.
Avery starts fussing. Big surprise, she's on her belly again. I continue to clean up the oatmeal until her fuss turns into a scream. Ethan's got a handful of Avery's hair. I pry his kung-fu grip out of her hair and sit her up again. She's not having it. I sit and play with the babies for a few minutes before I realize that it's 20 after 9:00. I change both babies' diapers and read them a few books. I carry them both up the stairs and put them to bed.
Back downstairs, I finish cleaning up the oatmeal, load the dishwasher and run it. I fold the laundry from the dryer, pick up the baby toys, and put the load of delicates that had been hanging up in the basement to dry into the dryer to fluff. I sit down to pump. I'm supposed to be giving the pump back to the person who lent it to me at the end of the month. I want to make sure I have some milk stored in the freezer. As I'm pumping, I'm telling myself the story of my morning and decide that today is the day that I will start the blog that I've been telling myself for months that I should start. While the laptop boots up, I fold the delicates. The laundry basket is filled to capacity, again. The babies sleep! Ethan has just woken, is drinking a bottle and pushing out a poo! Gotta run!
P.S. I remembered that I didn't buy waffles at Sam's. They've been out the past two times that I've gone. Maybe they're not carrying them anymore...
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