Not a shoe girl

I have a horrible confession to make. It turns out that I am not “into shoes.” I don’t know how many episodes of Sex and the City I’ve watched and been completely dumbfounded by Carrie’s ability to spend all of her money on Manolo Blahniks (in case you are wondering I had to google that in order to spell it correctly!). When I see expensive shoes I typically think that they look uncomfortable, and can’t imagine spending so much money on them. I have three pairs of shoes that I alternate between for every day wear (not including my running shoes). I have a pair of brown loafers made by Timberland, which were less than $40. I’ve had them for at least the past 3 years. I wear them to work with everything except black pants. I also have a pair of black loafers made by Dockers, also in the neighborhood of $40, and they are older than the tan shoes. They have a bit of a heel so I like that they make me feel somewhat taller than normal, but otherwise they are very plain. I wear them with black pants, and occasionally with tan pants (especially on business trips when I don’t want to pack more than one pair of shoes in my carry-on…because you know I always have to pack my running shoes). The third pair is sort of a running shoe/mule hybrid. They are New Balance shoes, and fit the bill for weekend wear, or when running errands after work. They go well with shorts, yoga pants, and wind pants (my “play clothes”). I think I spent closer to $50 on them.

I do have more than just those shoes, I have a collection of dressy shoes that I purchased to wear with specific dresses, but they just collect dust in my closet. Most of them are horribly out of style, and extremely uncomfortable. I also have a small spattering of sandals that I’ll drag out in the summer if I don’t feel like wearing my running shoe/mule hybrids. The kids like to pull my “dressy” shoes out to play with, and I never object because someone might as well get some use out of them. Running shoes are an entirely different subject, but I am also pretty no-nonsense about them. I wait until my knees start to ache a bit and then replace the shoes with the exact same model or perhaps the upgraded version if the old one is no longer available. Repeat. I buy 3-4 pairs of running shoes a year depending on my mileage, and at nearly $100 a pop, I suppose I’m fulfilling my shoe quota that way.

I’m not sure what the point of this post is, mostly I’m wondering if I am the only non-shoe girl out there. Am I? If you do have a love affair with shoes, can you tell me why? I am clearly missing something. Oh, I almost forgot about purses, I cannot even be bothered to carry one. My wallet fits fine in my jacket pocket, as does my cell phone and the lip gloss I carry. I do love my current diaper bag though (the Kecci Shanghai Mommy bag), and often get comments about how pretty it is in Azalea (which doesn’t seem to be available anymore). Perhaps that is the hook; a few comments about a diaper bag might just lead me to a purse habit down the road. I guess only time will tell.

An Ode to my Treadmill

You occupy a small portion of the basement family room, your humble little spot right in front of the never used wood burning fireplace. You consume 15 amps of current when operational, but never seem to blow the fuse. You have nice little nooks for storing television remotes, and random things like Kleenex and cell phones. You have a nice bar to hang a towel from, and a nice display that tells me how close I am to completing each ¼ mile lap. You can wirelessly read Polar heart rate monitor strap signals, though I confess to not using one in years. You have a nice soft but sturdy belt to absorb my foot strikes. Okay, truthfully I’m really struggling to come up with more compliments for you. The best thing about you is that you allow me to stay in decent running shape throughout the long cold winter. I can rely on you to be there no matter what the weather is like. I trust that I can step onto you and have basically the same experience every single time. Sure I play around with speed and incline to spice things up, but you and me, and the fan placed strategically behind us are the key ingredients. Thank you for being there for me.

You deserve the credit for my two awesome outdoor runs this week. The hilly mile of Tuesday’s run (a mile that is almost entirely uphill) was done in just 10:08, and my quads weren’t even screaming. The last time I’d run that route was in December and that mile was much closer to 12:00 back then. Some non-runners won’t understand the significance of just two measly minutes, but we know what that means. It means all of those Thursday speedwork sessions, where you happily increased my pace for 400 meter or 800 meter intervals had a great impact. I was used to losing speed in the spring, when I first ventured outdoors again, but not this year. This year, I decided to increase my mileage indoors, and incorporate speedwork to allay boredom, and it worked. I am not completely done with you for the season; your convenience still keeps you on my list of running options. However we won’t be spending nearly as much time together. I know you will be there for me on rainy days, and on sweltering hot days, and just days when I can’t fit in a run in the daylight.

Just remember that as I am running outdoors you have some duties to fulfill. You need to keep the recumbent bike company; he is certainly very lonely since nobody uses him with any regularity. Perhaps you can give the free weights and bench a pep talk, because eventually they will find their way back into my favor. Soon enough there will be a new room for you in the basement, an exercise room all for you. Oh, it doesn’t have anywhere near the ambiance of the family room, nor the nice natural lighting that comes in from the walk-out side of the house. It will, however, keep you from having little children climb all over you in ways that were never intended. You will also have your own dedicated 20 amp circuit to protect you from the possibility of blowing fuses. It is for your own protection you see. Never let anyone tell you that you have been hidden away so we had room in the basement for more practical things. You, my friend, are the most practical thing in the basement.

Real Moms get sat upon

I was actually going to post something about the fact that I actually ran outdoors yesterday for the first time since Christmas Day, but since Meena tagged me I’ll play along. Really that was about the extent of my running post anyway, well I might have mentioned the fact that I had to wade through some pretty deep and nasty looking puddles along the way, and came home with mud caked on my calves, but aside from that I would have been done. I think. Oh except I would have had to start by saying that I started my run on the treadmill, got about 1.5 miles into it, and decided I was insane for wasting a 60 degree early March day by running on the treadmill. I knew there would be puddles you see, and I was right, but it was still worth it.

Okay, onto the Real Moms challenge. This is a little tricky since a photo is required. I had to pick from one of the many (you know all 5 of them) photos of me that are loaded into my Photobucket account. It seems there is a theme though, as more than one of the photos was of me with two children sitting on me in some manner or another. So I guess my entry will have to be this:

Real Moms. Making pretty darn good furniture of themselves.

So since I was tagged by Meena (who was tagged by FairlyOddMother), I am tagging Jennifer, Kate, Dineen, and Nancy (is it totally unfair to tag someone who’s blog you read, but highly doubt they even know about your own?). I’m going to say that 4 is the new 5 and call it even.

The "how to": write a post "Real Moms [insert what you do here]", followed by an explanation, a picture, and a "Real Moms. Making ....". Then tag five people.

And somebody else put it much better than I could have

I've been thinking for a while about how destructive it is for Moms to beat each other up over petty little things. I can't count how many "debates" I've read on message boards over the years, that were little more than one group of Moms trying to justify their choices at the expense of another group of Moms choices. Surely, I am better Mom than someone else who fed her babies rat poison (formula), and better for not letting my children CIO right? Well, perhaps if I can find another group of Moms who made the same choices I did, then we can gang up on another group to make sure we are right! There is a small caveat though because my kids did have formula, but shhh don't tell the other Moms that. I felt guilty about it so that should count for something right?

I've been trying to come up with a blog post to address this issue for quite some time, but just couldn't do it without fumbling over myself in the process. Whenever this happens I usually find that someone else has already put it much better than I could have. Without further ado: Good Vs. Bad Mothering, from Sabrina Porterfield.

Some personal growth

It seems to me that when you have to struggle to find the right words for a blog post that perhaps you should just give up and wait until something feels more natural. It is just a blog after all; I have no deadlines to complete an entry here. However I do sometimes get caught up in a cycle where I feel like I need to post something in order to keep my readers interested. A new person commenting on the blog is often a spur for me to write more. It is crazy of course, normally I don’t really care if people comment or not (at least that is what I tell myself when posts get no comments). It makes just as much sense as getting all excited when a complete stranger tells me that The Girl is absolutely beautiful, or that she could model does. Why is it that comments from complete strangers mean more to me, than comments from people close to me do? I seem to have an uncanny ability to deny compliments from my inner circle, to assume they are “just being nice.” A comment from a relative stranger means more to me because I don’t feel like they have to “just be nice.” It is crazy, but there it is; a window into my neurosis.

I have decided that this cracked behavior has to stop. From now on I am going to accept all compliments as they were intended, with no second guessing or negative self-talk thrown in for good measure. I started my blog as a way to document some of my thoughts; not to attract hordes of readers. I have to stop myself from logging into my web stats tracking account more than once a week. I’m only tracking for my own entertainment purposes anyway. It is funny that my post about the Backyardigans and another rant about Johnny and the Sprites seem to garner the most attention. The posts that are the least about me, find the greatest audience. I’m not sure what that says, and I don’t really care. I’ll keep writing things I want to write, and let the other bloggers cover the important topics of this world. This is my reality, and I’ll make it what I want it to be. I know that occasionally someone will read here and think what I said was true, or witty, or interesting in some regard, and that my friends is just gravy!

Thanks for reading, I'll keep treadmilling around but don't expect any fancy
Choreographed dance moves around here. I just run on my treadmill, boring as I am.

They should be in pictures

I realize that I haven't shared many pictures of my children on this blog. In the beginning that was mainly because I figured most of my readers knew me from the message boards I frequented, and saw enough of my kids in signature pictures. There was also a bit of laziness at play. Anyway these are my favorite recent pictures of the kids:

The Boy looking thoughtfully at the snow

The Girl begging me to help her fix her mittens

I swear sometimes I just have to look at their pictures and my heart feels like it might explode with love. This motherhood thing is amazing.

Divide and Conquer

Monday evenings can be somewhat tricky in our house. The Boy is generally a little more tired than normal after playing all day with his daycare buddies, and he often takes out his frustrations on the rest of us. After about the 10th whine of “but she is taking it,” or “but she isn’t playing it right” directed to us about The Girl we decided it was time to intervene. I offered to bring one of The Boy’s basement toys up to his bedroom while we kept The Girl downstairs with us. He excitedly agreed to this arrangement, went upstairs, and played happily until nearly bed time. DH later commented that this must be known as the “divide and conquer” parenting technique. It is definitely a technique we will keep up our sleeves to use again. It is amazing how much of parenting is just done by trial and error, and how strongly we cling onto the things that actually work.

Slimed

It was a slightly harried morning for at least part of the treadmilling around family, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The children both slept through the entire night in their own beds, which frankly is a rare occurrence and one to be celebrated (so YAY!). I managed to get ready for work, pack for the business trip I will be flying out for this evening, and get the kids sitting contently at the table with pop tarts (The Boy accepted the generic pop tart this morning if and only if his was TOASTED) and milk all before 7 am. I sat down with the kids and ate my bowl of Kashi Go Lean Crunch (seriously yummy cereal that manages to keep me satisfied with no grumbling tummy until noonish), and the kids shouted different silly words across the table. I still don’t understand why it is funny to say “Bip,” but it is. I also don’t really understand why the game we’ve titled Broken-OR-Fixed is such a laugh riot, but it is too. I’m going to digress for a moment to describe the game so you aren’t at a disadvantage: 3.5 year old holds up whatever food item he has in front of him, and asks you “Broken or fixed?” You size it up and respond appropriately, 3.5 year old says “yeah that’s right!” Repeat until food item is completely ingested. The game works especially well with spaghetti (NO SAUCE Mommy!), but almost any food item can be substituted. The Girl has caught on to this game too, she will come out with “bow-ken o fix” out of nowhere sometimes, it is really fun to have a parrot in residence.

Anyway, back to my morning…I cleaned up my dishes from breakfast and was about to herd the kids out of the dining room, when The Girl dropped her milk glass on the floor (silly Mommy gives her a glass cup because she is tired of plastic sippy cups), it shattered of course, and The Boy jumped up to help. Barefoot Boy was directed back to his chair while I cleaned the mess. No biggie, I didn’t even swear, though I might have said “Shoot,” and I wonder where The Boy picks up his non-swear swear words. I got the kids dressed, off to daycare, and even made an extra trip home to pick up a supply of diapers for The Girl to have at daycare (the advantages to living 2 blocks from daycare). Our DCP forgot to tell my DH that The Girl was out of diapers at pick-up yesterday, but I figured something was off when I changed a size 6 diaper off of her size 4 butt last night. I completely spaced until I said goodbye to the kids at daycare, and then confirmed with our DCP that The Girl was in fact out of diapers. I made it to work a tiny bit later than I’d like, but given that I’m flying out for work this evening not a big deal.

It wasn’t until after I’d been at work for nearly an hour that I realized The Girl had managed to slime my head with pop tart slime. My hair was caked with gooey strawberry goodness. There used to be a time when I would have noticed that right away, and even washed my hair. Today, I didn’t notice right away, and upon discovery simply picked the sticky stuff out of my hair and went on with work. I am actually so far over to the dark side that little reminders like pop tart hair and baby socks in my shirt sleeve make me smile and think fondly of my children. I can still vividly recall the day I was sitting at work after The Boy was born thinking that I could smell his baby smell lingering with me. It wasn’t until after lunch that day that I realized I smelled his formula/breastmilk spit-up in my hair.

Swedish Fish

It was a nice weekend for us, one that involved very little time away from home. The kids had a blast playing in our newly fallen snow. DH had a blast building a snow fort for the kids. I got a bunch of chores out of the way, and learned that our new dryer venting path is amazing. The dryer now vents just a short distance from its physical location, which resulted in dramatically reduced drying times for our clothes. Clothes were dry before the next load was done in the washer. It was simply amazing. I finished all of the laundry before my 2 pm naptime trip to Target. I should mention that I started earlier than normal because The Boy had an accident in his sleep…too bad he was sleeping right next to me. I think that was a first for me, waking up because someone else wet my bed. Anyway, despite the potty disaster it was still a nice day yesterday and all in all a great weekend.

The no TV before daycare plan is still holding steady. The kids did watch half of an episode of Wonder Pets, and an entire episode of The Backyardigans Saturday morning though. Of course they watched those episodes on Noggin, and as we all know Noggin is Preschool on TV, so no harm done (Fairly Odd Mother’s recent post had me thinking about the Noggin thing). They also watched the bulk of a Sesame Street episode on either PBS or Sprout Sunday morning. I should emphasize that I am not out to eliminate all television from their lives, and I don’t think an hour or more per day on the weekends is a bad thing. I just want my weekday morning routine to run more smoothly, and right now no TV is helping me achieve that goal.

I think it has been harder for me to give up my morning computer fix, than it has been for the kids to give up TV. They literally have not even noticed that something is different in their routine. Well, that isn’t entirely true; I bought generic pop tarts (frosted strawberry) and The Boy wasn’t fooled. He started eating his pop tart this morning, stopped and said “Mommy, what kind of pop tart is this?” I responded that it was a strawberry pop tart. He squished up his face and said “I don’t like this kind of pop tart,” and wouldn’t finish eating it. I didn’t taste it, but I can’t imagine it tastes all that differently from his normal sugary breakfast treat. It did have different edges than a Kellogg’s Pop Tart though, so perhaps that was his clue. The Girl happily chomped away, so at least they aren’t a complete waste. I only bought the Archer Farms toaster pastries because they were so much cheaper than the Kellogg’s version. I figured there was no possible way he would notice the difference. I guess he has discerning tastes! I mentioned the snub to our DCP this morning, and she recounted the time she had tried to pass off organic pop tarts on her son, he was not amused. Kellogg’s must really know what they are doing!

I managed to get two happy, smiling kids off to daycare this morning, with not a single protest. Of course, much of that can be credited to the fact that I presented each of them with a small baggie of Swedish Fish as a bribe to get them herded into the mudroom and in their boots. We all have our parenting crutches somewhere, and mine often involve gummy candies. Oh well, we can’t all be perfect can we? At least they were Swedish Fish; I am making them multi-cultural with candy!

What do you want in your life?

You will have to forgive me if I am becoming new-agey, but I watched an Oprah show a few weeks ago about “The Secret,” and I just can’t get it out of my head. I only saw the last ten or fifteen minutes of the show as I was running on my treadmill after work. However, it was a powerful fifteen minutes, and it really stuck with me (I also recorded and watched the entire follow-up show Oprah had last week). I’m not going to go into exactly what “The Secret” is, you can google away and find it pretty quickly if you so choose. There are lots of positive affirmations involved, and much focused time and energy on whatever it is you want in your life.

The one thing that really sticks with me is that focusing on the negative aspects of your life only gives them more power. My morning routine is a great example of this. I don’t know how many times I have complained that I hate getting the kids ready and off to daycare, I hate how much they struggle with me, I hate that I end up being completely exhausted by the time I step in the door to daycare, I hate, I hate, I hate. The problem with this is that it was basically a self-fulfilling prophecy. I was constantly complaining about it, and it continued to be dreadful day after day, I did nothing to actively change the situation. However, with this week’s great no TV before daycare experiment and my new resolve not to get sucked into my laptop in the morning, things are better. I actually sat down at the table with the kids this morning (and yesterday) and we all ate breakfast together. The kids behaved because they had my full attention (no need to spill your cereal all over the floor if Mom is already paying attention to you). It was nice, The Boy helped me put the dishes in the dishwasher afterwards, and we all headed into the mudroom to put on boots, jackets, hats, and mittens to be on our way.

It makes complete sense to me that these subtle changes would have a big impact on my kids. They are good kids, but they certainly feed off of my stress levels. If I am in a bad mood, they sense it, and they respond to me in the same foul way I respond to them. Why do I expect anything different? I feel like I’ve had an awakening, or an “aha moment.”

The follow-up Oprah show featured two of the experts behind “The Secret” answering questions and providing additional guidance on the topic. One member of the audience asked “How do I know what I want?” The response was that she could most likely very easily list all of the things she didn’t like in her life or wanted to change. The power in the Secret is to use positives rather than negatives though, so each negative would need to be flipped to a positive. For example, I want to lose weight, which focuses on the negative aspects; should be “I want to be healthy and fit.”

I took the time to write my list, and then shared it with my spouse. It really brought into sharp focus where my priorities need to be in my life. I’m not going to share my entire list with you because I’m just not ready to do that, but a few of the things on my list are here:

• Feel closer and more connected to my spouse
  
• Feel confident about myself
  
• Feel healthy and fit
  
• I want clearly marked areas for all things in my house
  
• I want my children to use their imaginations more
  
• I want my kids to know they are important and valued
  
• I want set routines so the mornings go smoothly
  

I started out with 19 negatives and 14 positive statements, and with some sorting and consolidating came up with a list of 25 or so things I want in my life. I have never been as awake as I am right now. Who would have guessed that simply watching a little Oprah while getting in my daily run would have such a profound impact on my life?

The great no-TV-before-daycare-experiment, Day 4

Today was morning number four of the great no TV for the kids before leaving for daycare experiment. I wish I could really take credit for thinking of it, but really it happened by fluke. I just didn’t turn on the TV Monday morning. On my way to work that morning I reflected about how much easier it had been to drag the kids out of the house and off to daycare. A thought occurred to me, that maybe, just maybe, the TV watching which I thought was making my life easier was actually further complicating it. Many days I end up coercing The Boy into turning off the television, or just turning it off myself and facing the tantrum that ensued. Many days I was annoyed by not being able to catch a glimpse at the weather forecast because our TV was set to Little Einsteins on Disney or Caillou on Sprout, but I just lived with it. As I was reflecting about the ease of my Monday morning (perhaps it was partially glee at being able to have some kid-free time after a solo weekend away with them), I decided to see what happened if the kids just didn’t watch television in the morning.

I am not sure what I expected out of the little experiment. I did expect some reaction from the kids. However, there has been no reaction. They haven’t even noticed that television is missing from their daily routine (no I haven’t pointed it out to them). I can’t say that every morning this week has been a joy, but we haven’t had any arguments over watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse pleeeeease before heading out. I’m not sure how far I will push my luck, but my hope is to avoid morning television even on weekends. I’m not sure how strong my resolve will be when one of them wakes at 5:30 am on a weekend, and I want to use television to baby-sit while I catch a few extra Z’s on the couch. Only time will tell.

The bigger picture here is that there are certain things I do that make my life more difficult. I tend to check my internet message boards obsessively, and often boot up the computer before work (even when running late!) to do so. The flipside is that I hate being late, and I hate feeling rushed, so why do I do it? While the kids are giving up television in the morning, I am giving up my morning message board fix. There is no reason for me to feel rushed in the morning simply because I had to turn on the computer and check three websites. I need to feel rushed because sometimes it is hard to get two kids dressed, fed (only if they insist), in coats, hats, mittens, and boots, and strapped into carseats. I cannot complain about how harried my morning routine is if I am doing things to actively make my mornings harder. Is it really fair for me to tell The Boy that he has to hurry when he just sat next to me on the couch for 20 minutes watching television while I checked online? No, I suppose it isn’t.

I don’t want to be that Mom who is always yelling at her kids, I want my kids to know that they are important and valued. I do have the power to change things, and when I really looked at the situation I saw that most of my frustration was a direct result of things under my control. It is more than just no television in the mornings; it is about actively working to make things better. Accepting that something is difficult gets us nowhere; looking at things with a critical eye and taking actions to correct them will make a big difference.

Studio 60

Why is it that whenever they create a smart, funny, entertaining drama it gets cancelled almost immediately now? I have enjoyed Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip more than almost any other show on television this season, but now I read rumors that it will be cancelled? I’m sure it will be replaced with a crap reality show that I will blatantly refuse to watch, or perhaps a game show that I also won’t even hesitate on for more than two seconds. I’m not sure how they select Nielsen families, but the ratings system needs to be drastically revamped. I don’t watch shows the night they air, I watch them days later when I can squeeze it into my family life, and I know there are many other DVRing families just like mine out there. It used to be that there were many shows we wanted to record, now there is just a handful. It is getting easier and easier for me to give up television without even really wanting to. I won’t watch something simply because it is better than anything else on the air (well HGTV is the exception, but I am even getting tired of that).

I love that Studio 60 has a storyline that is making fun of reality TV. I feel like I have a voice out there because my hatred for that crap TV is echoed back to me on a show with good writing! I’ll admit that I only started watching Studio 60 because of all of the players who were previously associated with perhaps the best television show ever to air (The West Wing), but it is good in its own right. Honestly, I’m still not over The West Wing ending. How on earth ER, a show I used to watch religiously more than 5 years ago, can continue on the air in its now perpetual state of crapiness while The West Wing was cancelled is beyond me. Why NBC doesn’t promote the hell out of the best show in its lineup is a complete mystery. Studio 60 is a damn good show, and the boneheads are going to ditch it because the executives are too stupid to understand it, or do understand that it is painting them in a very negative light and it makes them quake in their boots.

Perhaps I am just too naïve to understand it. Clearly I am not the target audience anymore. Perhaps they could create another Law and Order series because each new addition to that line just seems to get worse, or perhaps there could be a spin-off from Deal or No Deal, or another flavor of The Apprentice. It doesn’t matter to me, I won’t be watching anymore. I really thought that reality television was a fad, and that it would pass, but it hasn’t. They keep creating more and more, and apparently the masses keep watching it. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised; I thought there was no way our current president would be elected (I still don’t concede that he was elected the first time, so therefore in my mind he was never reelected), but he was. I am not implying that everyone who voted for Georgie likes reality TV, or that everyone who likes reality TV likes Georgie, it is just becoming clear to me that I am not a target advertisers are aiming for in more ways than one.

I do think that the best way to kill off network television is to keep targeting shows to the lowest common denominator. Eventually many more people will walk away. For now, I’ll enjoy the rest of the season, and hope that my few other favorites will hang on for a while. Perhaps one day the network execs will wake up, I can only hope.

Okay, I'll admit it

I’m just going to come right out with it today; I don’t like playing cars with my children. I also don’t like playing random dialogue games with people-like toy figures. I especially don’t like having to come up with random dialogue for the people-like figures. The Boy used to be so self-sufficient. He would entertain himself for long minutes without intervention from a parent; now that he has a built-in playmate for a sister he seems to need more intervention. I thought The Girl was supposed to cure us of actually having to interact with our children. Damn. I was wrong. It seems as though the presence of a playmate has just further hastened the idea that The Boy needs an accomplice to his play. I try my best to play with the kids, but I typically end up bored after less than five minutes. What is worse is that The Boy gets mad at me for “playing wrong.” I mean sometimes if you just make Doc and Ramon say the “wrong” things The Boy is sent into a tizzy. God forbid if you don’t follow Mack and Lightning McQueen at just the right time, all while crawling along the floor on your knees, and do not ever just push one of the cars so it drives solo, that is forbidden! My new tactic is to tell The Boy to play by himself for 5 minutes and then I will play with him. My secret hope is that he will get wrapped up in his own play and forget about my promise (sadly that has yet to happen). I had also hoped that The Girl would be a useful playmate, but it turns out that when they play together one of them ends up in tears and something to the effect of “but she just took that from me!” is screamed at me. Kind of makes me want to have a third child, just to see how much craziness I am capable of enduring...okay not really.

Someone please tell me it is okay for me to hate playing cars.

He knows the drill

A 2.5 hour drive somehow seems much longer when you are transporting two kids under the age of 4. Thankfully the new dual screen DVD player we purchased for the minivan makes the trip seem short again. We managed the entire return trip without even stopping for a potty break, all thanks to The Heffalump Movie, and Toy Story 2 (and The Boy’s bladder of steel). Necessity? No. Worth every penny? Yes!

As we drove to daycare this morning, The Boy was working through the absence of his new beloved gadgets, and it went something like this:

The Boy: We only have the DVDs when we are going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house?
Me: Yes, only when we go on long trips
The Boy: Maybe when we go to XX Grandma and Grandpa’s house?
Me: Yes, when we go to XX Grandma and Grandpa’s house we will have the DVD player
The Boy: Yes, we will have the DVDs when we go to XX, to YY, and to ZZ! Right?
Me: Yes, that is right
The Boy: When we go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house we will take the van, not your car Mommy.
Me: Yes

He knows the drill.

I just didn't want feet

Last night after the kids had been in bed for close to an hour, and DH and I were both sitting in the living room watching the DVR’d episode of The Office, we heard footsteps upstairs. Then we saw the hall light flick on, and then the bathroom light turned on, and of course we heard The Boy going potty. He is fairly self-sufficient when he needs to be, but I figured the bathroom visit would require at least some intervention from me. DH told me to leave him alone, but I couldn’t resist. The lights had turned off, and it sounded like he had made his way back to bed, but I needed to check. I went upstairs and found The Boy under his covers and completely naked. I went to the bathroom to look for his wayward pajamas, but didn’t see them. I also didn’t see his pajamas on the floor of his bedroom, so I was a bit confused. I asked him where his pjs were, and he responded that he “just wanted Buzz Lightyear.” He has a pair of Buzz Lightyear pjs, so I figured he just wanted to change, why he was in bed naked I have no idea. It still didn’t explain the absence of the pjs he was wearing at bedtime. Eventually he pointed me to his dresser drawer, where I found his discarded pjs, right next to the Buzz Lightyear jammies. The mystery was where his underwear had gone, he eventually pointed me to the pants drawer of his dresser, and there were his bright orange Diego underwear safe and sound.

He had been wearing footed pajamas, and he explained to me that he “didn’t want feet.” I helped him get dressed in his Buzz Lightyear pajamas, tucked him back in and he went to sleep. This was the second time this week he had gotten out of bed to change out of his footed pajamas. The last time, I found him in the morning wearing mismatched pajamas, and he told me “I just didn’t want feet.” I suppose I should take the hint already and put the footed-too-small pajamas in the outgrown bin. DH and I had a pretty good laugh about our naked boy. I can only imagine what is going on in his head, but it is so entertaining to witness the results of his mind spinning around!

Nothing says "I love you" like being touched with goat hide strips

This morning as I was herding the children out of the house and into the car, The Boy asked me if today was Valentine’s Day. I had just handed him his Disney Cars Valentines that he had painstakingly signed for his friends at daycare, so that was his first clue. I told him that yes today is Valentine’s Day. Then he asked me why. I told him today was February 14th, and Valentine’s Day is always on February 14th. He then asked me how I knew it was Valentine’s Day, to which I responded that I had looked at the calendar and knew today was February 14th, and thus Valentine’s Day. He got quiet for a moment, and hopped up into his carseat, and continued to press the issue. I think he finally accepted my response when I had basically repeated the same answer to him 3 times, but I don’t think he quite understands the concept of dates yet. I’m not too worried about it though, I’m sure that will come soon enough, it must be happier just living in a world with no deadlines!

The conversation did get me thinking about the history of Valentine’s Day though. I stumbled upon the following on the history channel’s website:

While some believe that Valentine's Day is celebrated in the middle of February to commemorate the anniversary of Valentine's death or burial -- which probably occurred around 270 A.D -- others claim that the Christian church may have decided to celebrate Valentine's feast day in the middle of February in an effort to 'Christianize' celebrations of the pagan Lupercalia festival. In ancient Rome, February was the official beginning of spring and was considered a time for purification. Houses were ritually cleansed by sweeping them out and then sprinkling salt and a type of wheat called spelt throughout their interiors. Lupercalia, which began at the ides of February, February 15, was a fertility festival dedicated to Faunus, the Roman god of agriculture, as well as to the Roman founders Romulus and Remus.

To begin the festival, members of the Luperci, an order of Roman priests, would gather at the sacred cave where the infants Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, were believed to have been cared for by a she-wolf or lupa. The priests would then sacrifice a goat, for fertility, and a dog, for purification. The boys then sliced the goat's hide into strips, dipped them in the sacrificial blood and took to the streets, gently slapping both women and fields of crops with the goathide strips. Far from being fearful, Roman women welcomed being touched with the hides because it was believed the strips would make them more fertile in the coming year. Later in the day, according to legend, all the young women in the city would place their names in a big urn. The city's bachelors would then each choose a name out of the urn and become paired for the year with his chosen woman. These matches often ended in marriage. Pope Gelasius declared February 14, St. Valentine's Day around 498 A.D. The Roman 'lottery' system for romantic pairing was deemed un-Christian and outlawed.

Now you can not complain about the “Hallmark holiday” nature of Valentine’s Day, and even if you don’t get anything from your significant other, just be thankful that you weren’t touched with goat hide strips today!

The remodeling journey part 2

In case you were wondering, I decided to just skip creating a blog completely devoted to our remodeling journey. Instead, I will just mix it all up in here. Frankly, I am far too lazy to try to keep up with two blogs, so there!

We have begun the process of finishing off a new bathroom, a workout room, and a utility room in the unfinished portion of our basement. We got quotes from two different mainstream contractors, and then one from our Daycare provider’s DH. Ultimately DH decided that all of the bids were too high, and that he would just work with our daycare provider’s DH to complete the project. Thankfully this means that our contractor will be doing most of the work, but DH gets to help occasionally when he has the time. The new walls are mostly framed already; I was amazed at how quickly things started to take shape. Today I believe our contractor is tearing up a spot of concrete floor to move the existing bathroom vent to a better location. The project is moving slowly for now since we don’t really have a firm deadline. The project will not include flooring (except maybe tile in the bathroom) or finished ceilings at this point since we need to leave the ceilings open for the main floor remodel.

The main floor remodel is slowly chugging along as well. We have not begun the project, but we have chosen a contractor from the 3 estimates/bids we received. The next step is to work towards finalizing the design. We still have some open questions/issues with the plan we have, so we will work with the contractor’s designers to push forward. I have a feeling that many more questions will arise before we feel content with the plan, but this is no small investment for us and we want to get it right. Thankfully DH has taken the lead on this project, and is handling most of the details. If not for him pushing it through I am quite sure we would still be in the contemplation stage. The thought is that we will begin construction “in the spring.” I’m sure we will be looking for offers for home cooked meals during the 3-4 months we are without a kitchen.

Treadmill violation

I came home from work yesterday, just like I do any other Monday. I generally skip a long lunch at work so that I can get home before DH and the kids in order to run on the treadmill before they get home. It might not be the ideal solution, but the alternative of waking up at 5 AM to run, just hasn’t seemed palatable to me for the last few years. My routine is to get the mail, throw 99% of the mail directly into the trash because it is inevitably junk mail, put away my work gear (lunch cooler bag, the messenger bag I carry my laptop in, etc.), then head upstairs to change into treadmill running clothes. What are treadmill running clothes you ask? They are the same as outdoor summer running clothes, with the absence of a shirt to go over my sports bra. Shorts, a sports bra, socks, and lately a zip up hooded sweatshirt to keep me from freezing for the first 2-3 minutes of my run (it is wicked cold in our basement), complete my standard wardrobe. Yesterday, however, I had to wear a shirt as well because the person who is helping us with the basement project was there working. All of a sudden my space had been invaded. I briefly contemplated running after he left, but the reality that the kids would intrude upon my run flashed upon me so I sucked it up and ran anyway.

Years ago I didn’t have my own treadmill, but used the treadmills at the health club. I never had a problem with the fact that others would perhaps catch a glimpse of me running, but in my own home it just feels like a violation. DH told me that I’m being a big baby, and he is most likely right. I’m sure I will get over it soon enough. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but I do know that on a recent work trip I was stuck on a hotel treadmill in a room that had mirrors on two walls. Watching my own self run on the treadmill was more than horrifying. Here I was, running, improving my fitness, but faced with the reality of my jiggly thighs all I could think about was how I should have avoided that cookie at lunch. I now have that mental image of my thighs whenever I think that anyone else is watching me run on a treadmill (outside I’ve concluded everybody looks better, and I honestly don’t give it a second thought). Stupid mirrors, why on earth would anyone want to watch themselves running on a treadmill?

A pain in the neck

We had an interesting albeit scary weekend in our house. DH spent the bulk of the day Saturday working on some basement remodeling. I’m not allowed to detail what he did, as he is still waiting for the permit from the city, so as far as I know he just looked at plans and purchased material. However, that activity was enough to drive me and the kidlets out of the house for at least the morning. It was incredibly cold here in the frozen tundra, so I decided to make good use of our annual zoo membership gift from the in-laws. I squeaked out 4 miles on the treadmill before 9 am, and we were off to the zoo by 10 am or so. The walk to the zoo from the parking lot was brutal for me. I was happy that the kids were well bundled, but kept questioning why in the world I wasn’t better dressed for the weather. Thankfully we were at the zoo only to see the indoor exhibits.

We managed to see most of the tropical animals in the span of an hour, and made our way over to the ocean exhibit. As we were browsing the fish tanks and aquariums, The Boy started complaining that his neck hurt. My standard Mommy response of “where does it hurt, do you want me to kiss it,” just wasn’t cutting it though. I suggested we get lunch so he could rest in the stroller for a while, and he agreed, but he remained withdrawn and quiet with a pained look on his face throughout the meal he barely touched.

He kept telling me that his neck hurt, and when I asked him where it hurt he held his hand over a spot so I could feel. I felt a lump, and of course started to feel a little panicky. I often get swollen lymph nodes, and in fact most of mine become swollen and just never go back to normal after they’ve been swollen, so my experience told me that the lump I was feeling was a slightly enlarged lymph node. Still, his constant insistence that he needed medicine was worrisome, because The Boy has a fairly high pain tolerance.

*Several months ago we noticed he had a black thumb nail, the kind you get after painfully slamming your thumb in a door or something equally painful. When asked how he got it, he would respond with “I just got an owie.” I’ve experienced the same, and I whined considerably when it happened because it was extremely painful. We still have no idea how it happened, because he never complained to us, or to his daycare provider. The poor kid ended up losing his thumbnail, and never even once complained about it.*

Anyway, the fact that he was in so much pain just didn’t set right with me. I told him we would go home so he could take some medicine, and perhaps go to the doctor. He said “yes, and then we will come back to the zoo.” Well, I knew full well if we went home we would not in fact be coming back to the zoo that day, and I just couldn’t lie to him (he’s old enough to remember and continue to keep pushing for it with “but you said we would go back to the zoo.”). When he realized going home for medicine meant leaving the zoo, he proclaimed his neck better. He said we should go to the dolphin show I’d been promising all morning. I asked him if he was sure, he said yes, so we went to the dolphin show. He did okay during the dolphin show, The Girl, on the other hand behaved miserably and she clearly needed a nap! After the show, The Boy was back to complaining about his neck, so we hightailed it home. They both briefly napped in the car on the 20 minute drive home which of course made it nearly impossible to actually get them to take naps at home, but whatever.

I continued to worry, but gave him some Motrin, and tried to get him to nap. DH gave me the impression that I was overreacting, but I just couldn’t let it go. I called a nurse line and spoke with an RN, who told me if it wasn’t better on Sunday we should bring him to Urgent Care. Of course it wasn’t better on Sunday so The Boy and I made a trip to urgent care, where we got the diagnosis of Acute Torticollis, or a stiff neck. The poor kid was dealing with seized up muscles in his neck, and was in a great deal of pain, unable to turn his had from side to side. Thankfully Motrin seems to help, and this morning he declared himself better, enough so that he refused Motrin.

Now, if only I could get myself to stop assuming he has an aneurysm or meningitis every single time he has something weird happen I’d be in a much better place. I remember worrying about miscarrying when I was pregnant (especially after an extremely early miscarriage with my first pregnancy), and being thankful when I passed the first trimester. I told myself that I wouldn’t have to worry anymore when I passed milestones, but the truth is there was always something new to worry about. After The Boy was born, I was so grateful to hold him in my arms, a healthy baby boy, now surely I could stop worrying. I was wrong though, the real worry doesn’t even kick in until they are outside the womb. Now, the things to worry about are much bigger and harder to control. I imagine that even when my kids are grown and living on their own I will still worry about them, but hopefully it won’t be the primal fear and worry I have now…the mama bear taking care of her cubs.

Catchy tunes

I am well versed in television that is targeted to my offspring, but have only relatively recently begun to explore the music targeted to them. We have just a few kid specific CDs, one from They Might Be Giants that I don’t particularly enjoy, some random CDs that came in a multi-pack, and of course the CD that got us through The Girl’s forth trimester – A nature sounds “Waterfall” CD from Target that sounds almost exactly like radio static with a few birds chirping in the background every once in a while, so you get that you are supposed to be standing right next to a huge waterfall. We listened to that one at full volume so much during The Girl’s first 4 months that it is forever burned in our memory. We only hold onto it to torment The Girl later in life (okay that CD isn’t targeted to kids, but nobody in their right mind would find it to be a soothing sound unless you are an infant accustomed to listening to all of the whooshes, gurgles, and heart sounds inside of the womb).

A few months back we picked up Laurie Berkner’s Buzz Buzz, and Farmer Jason’s Rockin’ In the Forest, and my kids are sold. Not only are they sold, but so am I. I can’t even begin to explain how cool it is to watch my two grooving out with the music. The Girl says “buzz buzz” when she wants to listen to her music, and The Boy demands “Farmer Jason!” I enjoy both CDs, though I’ll admit to being somewhat partial to the Laurie Berkner disc, if only because the songs are a little more sing-able for me. The downside being of course, that I end up humming things like “Little red caboose, little red caboose, chug, chug, chug, Riding behind that, train, train, train, train…smokestack on its back, back, back, back, going down the track, track, track, track…little red caboose behind the train…here comes the little red caboose…” You get the idea! I find myself skipping songs on the CD to get to the songs I like to sing. If I had a functioning CD player in my car right now I am confident that I would be grooving around town and singing along when my children aren’t with me. I used to laugh when people would confess to listening to Raffi CDs in the car, and now I have become one of those people!

You try listening to “There's A Little Wheel A-Turnin' In My Heart” or perhaps “The More We Get Together,” and see if you are immune.

Growing up the only music I can recall listening to was my Mom’s vast collection of Air Supply, Ann Murray, Crystal Gayle, and a few others. I have to say that I am still unable to hear Air Supply without cringing, “Lost in Love” just screams it-is-Saturday-and-we-need-to-clean-the-house to me (I’m not going to link to any Air Supply, I just can’t bring myself to even type those words in the same string in my little Google search bar, so if you are interested do it yourself). I suppose it is possible that we had children’s music from time to time, but certainly not anything like Farmer Jason. I could try to draw conclusions from this, but I think I’d just be stretching. Mostly I just wanted to confess that I am in my thirties and enjoy singing along to kids music! It is okay though, my CD player in the car is in fact broken, so I mostly listen to Cities 97, or MPR, I’m solidly an adult most of the time. Ah Rum, Sum, Sum, Ah, Rum, Sum, Sum, Goolie, Goolie, Goolie, Goolie Goolie, Rum, Sum Sum…

What's wrong with gift bags?

The Boy went to a birthday party for one of his daycare buddies yesterday afternoon, and he came home with a great gift bag filled with candy, and some fun little toys that he seems to enjoy. He got home and asked for some of the candy, but as I knew he’d just eaten cake, ice cream, and some M&Ms, I told him no (oh and it was already 7:45 PM, when his bed time is 8 PM). He accepted the no, and played with the toys in the gift bag for a while (while trying his best to keep The Girl away from his loot). He went to bed pretty easily, insisting that he hold onto his new beloved sticky monkey glow in the dark cheapie toy (the kind of toy that when balled up in your hand and thrown against a wall, will stick for a moment only to slowly roll down the wall). He even called down to me an hour later because he had dropped said monkey under his bed, and needed it in order to sleep. Whatever, at least he went back to sleep. He was still clutching the monkey this morning, and I had to pry it out of his hands when I dropped him off at daycare, promising him that he would get it back later in the day.

The whole thing made me think of something I read on cribsheet a while back. They pointed out a recently launched website created by parents who are concerned about the rampant craziness surrounding kids’ birthday parties. I looked at the site (Birthday’s without pressure) for a moment and went on with my day. Why do we give gift bags at birthday parties? I wouldn’t say that I am even opposed to them. Kids like them. I could be happier if they didn’t come with a big ol’ pile of sugar in them, but it isn’t like the Pop Tarts I feed the kids for breakfast are healthy so my standards are already sufficiently low. At The Boy’s 3rd birthday party shin dig we were guilty of giving out gift bags too, and honestly they worked quite well to distract the kids while The Boy was opening his mound of presents. I did stress for a little too long about what exactly to put in the gift bags though, and can see how some parents wouldn’t want that. I guess because my kids are still so young we haven’t really had to deal with too much of this. I’m sure in a few years I will be deadly opposed to gift bags, and commercialized parties or I will more likely just sell out and go along with the trend.

The Boy is only 3.5, and has already gone to two birthday parties at Chuck E Cheese, and one swimming pool party (I hope to not subject other parents to that for a while, I’m still a little irritated that it meant I had to don a swimsuit). I’m sure as he gets older we will become more and more familiar with all birthday party venues in our area. We’ve had all of our kids’ parties at our own humble abode, but honestly it is a huge pain in the ass to have to clean your entire house, cook, oversee the party, and find ways to entertain a bunch of preschoolers (even when their parents are present!) for even 2 hours. I found myself searching for Non-Chuck E Cheese party options just a few weeks ago, and our next kid birthday isn’t until May.

There has to be some nicer balance between making your child be the one kid who doesn’t get birthday presents from friends, and having such a huge production for each and every birthday that he or she feels entitled to more each year. I’d wager that these early birthdays set the stage for what is to come when the kids have their own opinions. I guess that means we need to under perform, so they have low expectations.

I don't know, the whole fact that there is a dot org website set up to tell me how horrible birthday parties are, makes me pay less attention to the whole thing. Soon not only will Moms be quietly judging other Moms for breastfeeding or formula feeding, landfill space occupying disposable diapers or cloth dipes, staying at home or working outside the home, they will have to worry about the birthday party being enough but not too much. Gads, this parenting thing is like junior high all over again, and we wonder why kids are such asshats to each other in school!

How did that happen?

This is a little premature but…I was reading Mom 101 this morning, her non-Blogiversary occurred today. It got me thinking about how old my blog is, and damned if I wasn’t surprised to find that my humble little blog will be one year old tomorrow. It is hard to believe that for some insane reason I felt the need to just get-my-own-blog-already a year ago. I haven’t been horribly consistent about blogging during this year, like everything else in my life I seem to go in fits and bursts. I have enjoyed doing it though. It is a good outlet for me. I can write what I want, without concern that I am being self-centered (as would be my feeling if I just spouted this stuff on a message board). Other people actually read what I write sometimes too, which never ceases to give me warm fuzzies. I don’t get all that many comments, but Google Analytics tells me that there are some people reading anyway! As I am more of a lurker than a commenter when I read blogs, I can respect the lack of comments. Still, if you ever want to shout out to me, please do, I love seeing just treadmilling around emails telling me there is a new comment. Does that make me vain? Oh well, too bad if it does!

Uniqua

I’ve mentioned before that my children watch far too much television, so it should come as no surprise that The Girl has a favorite show. It is hands down The Backyardagins. She will get up and run to the television when she hears even a hint of the theme music so she can be closer to her beloved little singing and dancing fools. She screams “Pa boh” and gets giddy with anticipation. The show is okay as far as kids shows go. I get a little too excited over new episodes, simply because you can watch the "Snow Fort" only so many times before your head threatens to explode. All of the Grandparents have witnessed The Girl’s reaction to Backyardigans, so it came as no surprise that she got not one, not two, but all five of the funny little creatures for Christmas. Thank you Mom, for sending the Beanie Baby characters in favor of the more annoying talking/dancing ones we’ve seen at Target!

*If you are not familiar with the Backyardigans you should probably just skip this entry, no worries.*

The characters are as follows: Pablo, who upon examination reveals himself to be a penguin. Pablo is in nearly every episode, and he generally is a happy-go-lucky guy. Tasha, whom is almost always wearing a dress and some maryjane style shoes, is a hippo. Tasha is annoying. She is the prissy friend in the neighborhood who likes to boss everyone around, and has to control most interaction. She never participates in physical challenges, this is magnified in the Egypt episode where she sings over and over again about how she “likes being a Prin-cess.” As a tom-boy myself, I find Tasha hard to relate to, and might just barf a little in my mouth if The Girl develops princess envy at some point. Tyrone is a moose. He is a good friend to all of the Backyardigans and doesn’t complain too much. My favorite Tyrone episode involves Tyrone as the “Moose of the Mist,” something to be feared, but Tyrone isn’t even aware that He is the Moose of the Mist until Uniqua points it out to him. Austin is not in every episode, but he is a cool little guy. I waver a bit on what exactly Austin is supposed to be, sometimes I think rabbit because of the tall ears on his head, but his tail is not so rabbit-ish so I sometimes think he is some kind of lizard.

This brings me to the enigma of the group, and that is Uniqua. Her name and species is listed as Uniqua, whatever that means. She is the fearless little tomboy of the group. Before checking out the character bios on the UK Nick Jr. page, DH and I went back and forth about what exactly Uniqua was. He insisted she was a salamander, and I kept thinking pig because she is pink. Our babysitter sided with DH the other night though, so perhaps I am overruled. I find it a bit curious that the tomboy of the group, the girl who doesn’t fit girl stereotypes is labeled as her own species. It is as if *gasp* girls don’t play sports. What century are we living in anyway?

Yes, I have put far too much thought into this.

Is it spring yet?

January is almost over, which means February is about to begin, yippee! Oh wait, what does the start of February mean? That’s right, not much at all. Another 4 weeks until we get to March, which can still be frigid here in the frozen tundra, but just sounds like spring. I can’t believe I actually posted in December about it being too warm, what was I thinking? That is seasonal amnesia for you. My treadmill is getting quite a workout lately, as this weather wimp is opting for every run on the good old TM rather than braving the frigid outdoor air. Still the thought of spring keeps creeping into my mind, and I keep plugging away on the TM so I will be ready to run outside when it warms up again. I need to find a new goal race to aim towards, perhaps a late spring half marathon?

I've got Nothin'

Sorry for being neglectful of this blog. It turns out that my life just isn’t that interesting lately. I could write about my most recent attempt to drop the last bit of baby weight, or I could write more about the home renovations, or I suppose I could write about my children. However, I don’t really feel like writing about any of those things so I’ve just been silent. I haven’t even had to travel for work since late November, so I can’t even add complaint posts. I guess it is a good place to be in, but it doesn’t make for a very interesting blog. Oh well, if you are reading this you will likely still be around when I find something of interest to write about again won’t you?

I do have to say that Johnny and the Sprites is now a full half hour show on Playhouse Disney. It turns out that it is worse than I ever imagined. I lasted about 5 minutes into the program before searching Sprout, Noggin, and PBS Kids digital channel for something more acceptable, and finally just turning the TV off because the kids didn’t seem to mind. I’ll just come out with the hard truth that I don’t like Muppets in any form. I find them disturbing and have since I was an adult. I don’t recall being afraid of them as a child, so I’m sure the annoyance set in only as I aged. My poor kids will be deprived simply because I can’t stand having Sesame Street on in my presence. Oh well, TV is bad for kids anyway right?

Let's piss off some women runners

I just read this post here, about this article, and am fuming mad. The guy who wrote the article is deemed an "expert" but has no PhD or MD after his name so I assume he is just spewing a theory.

The only reason women would ever even consider running is so that they could be "little and cute" don't you know. We wouldn't want to risk being "saggy and hurt." Perhaps if we buy more of the author's products or services we can become "little and cute" without *gasp* running. Please. I've been a runner since 1999, and I do not have a classic runner's body. I've never been injured in a way that didn't directly relate to shoes, despite training for and running two marathons and many half marathons. I have no words for the author, he is not worthy of them.

A remodeling journey

I alluded to a big house remodel project in my last post, so I thought that I would elaborate just a bit about what that project will entail. Our wonderful 2 story house was built in 1986. It is a nice house, but in 1986 people were more inclined to separate dining rooms from kitchens, kitchens from living rooms, and to have family rooms in the partially finished basement. This is not how we want to live though, so from the first time we set foot in our house we knew when it was ours we would eventually remodel it. We had plans drawn up to remove walls between the living room and dining room and between the dining room and kitchen so we could have the open floor plan we dream about (well I don’t know that I’ve ever actually dreamed about it but you know what I mean). We also want to add a shower to the ½ bathroom on our main floor so my Mom who uses a wheelchair as her primary means of mobility doesn’t stink so much when she visits us for a week at a time. We love you Mom, but you really do need to shower *wink*. I also really really really want to be able to watch television while I am cooking in the kitchen. There I’ve admitted it, I’m a TV junkie. We could rig something up in the existing kitchen, but then I’d lose the TV that sits on the desk in the office – so I can surf the web AND watch HGTV at the same time (after the kids to go sleep). Yes, I could do the same in the living room, but then I’d have to use my work laptop and I think our desktop computer needs the attention. Oh, and I want to be able to see the children in the family room when I’m in the kitchen, because quiet children are almost always up to no good.

After nearly completing the plans for our main floor remodel, we started discussing how we would live in the house through the construction. We do have a nice family room in the basement complete with a partially functioning wet bar (with a beautiful blue countertop *sarcasm*), so we figured we will create a pseudo kitchen in that area to get us through. Of course there is no functioning bathroom in the basement, and the prospect of walking up 2 flights of stairs when a 3 year old needs to pee doesn’t seem realistic, so we are now about to add a 4th bathroom to our house. The nice family room has a nice fireplace, that currently has a nice Pacemaster Treadmill parked right in front of it, and a barely used recumbent bike right next to it. In order to live through construction without the kids killing themselves on the exercise equipment we need to add an exercise room as well (or at least carve out a new spot for the treadmill). Do you see how these projects just take on a life of their own?

I can’t tell you how much I want to be featured on Designer’s Challenge, or a similar show on HGTV, but alas it doesn’t look like they are accepting applications right now. I do feel that as a home improvement/design shown enthusiast it is my responsibility to document the projects from start to finish. However, I’m not sure if I am up to that challenge. So my question to you is this: should I start a sister blog devoted solely to our home renovations? If nothing else it might be interesting for us after the project is complete. I’ll post a link if I decide to take the leap…I suppose I need to take some before pictures before we start construction.

Reflections

Every once in a while I like to take a step back from the craziness of my daily routines to really consider what I have going on in my life. I did that the other day and came to the conclusion that my life is pretty good. My DH is great, sure he isn’t perfect, but who is. He puts up with my craziness which says a lot, I know I wouldn’t like being married to me. My kids are great too. The Boy is so loving and caring; he has a fun little zest for life that I wish I could bottle. The Girl is amazingly strong willed; she and I will end up butting heads one day I can bet on it, but for now she looks up to me like I am the world. She wants to be next to me and near me no matter what her other options are, and I know this won’t last forever. We haven’t decided for certain whether there will be a baby #3, but to even have that option makes us very lucky. I know several people who have struggled with infertility, and aside from my early miscarriage before The Boy we have had little trouble in that department.

There are many other good things in my life, we have wonderful families who love us, and care about us. We have a nice home, we aren’t in debt, and we have good jobs. We have a good chunk of money already set aside for retirement, and are able to add to it each and every month. I know many people who really do live paycheck to paycheck and struggle to make ends meet. Again, we are lucky we don’t have that added stress. It almost makes me feel a little guilty when a friend complains about not being able to buy any extras, or worse can’t even meet their current expenses.

I believe that luck, a good dose of common sense, and a good upbringing helped us to get to this position, oh and cheapness. DH and I have lived together since I was a junior in college; we lived in a roach-infested $430 a month shit hole apartment for the first few years. He worked, I worked, and we scraped by. We had an apartment filled with free furniture. We splurged on a VCR after we had lived together for a few months, and that was a well calculated expenditure (we did have cable TV though, because that is a necessity). I graduated from college with minimal student loans outstanding. We moved to a nicer apartment, but kept our free furniture, and began to invest. Eventually we bought our first house, and lived there for a good 6 months before we had any furniture in our main floor living room. Every big purchase was still heavily weighed before buying, despite the fact that we could now afford to buy nice things. We are now in our second house, and still have no bedroom set. I use the dresser that was my Dad’s at one point in time; the legs have broken off in one of the many moves, so it sits right on the floor in all of its ugliness. DH’s parents bought new bedroom furniture at some point so The Girl got DH’s old dresser (his from childhood) and he switched to his Dad’s cast off. The Boy somehow managed an IKEA dresser, and a Target bookcase, but he uses my old bed and mattress from childhood. Do you sense a theme here?

We were watching HGTV the other day (well every day, but the conversation the other day is what I am thinking about) and were relaying the conversation that would happen when the designers entered our bedroom.

THEM: you make how much money and you seriously are using this bedroom furniture?
US: Um, yeah, someday we will buy new bedroom furniture, but this stuff works so we aren’t in a big hurry.
THEM: Have you looked at your bedroom?
US: Yes, but it is just our bedroom so what difference does it make?
THEM: Lots of eye rolling, Did you guys paint this leaf stencil pattern on the walls?
US: No, it was here when we moved in, we will repaint it someday
THEM: How long have you lived here?
US: almost 2 years
THEM: Leaving in disgust

The conversation could repeat about almost any room in our house. This is why we have decided to hire a decorator to help us with our big house remodel project. We are afraid it will finish, we will move our current LR set over a bit and just move on. I guess this is what happens when two very practical engineer types get married and have kids.

Yes, we are lucky and we are uninspired, but if our lack of motivation to spend loads of money on furniture and decorating is our only problem I guess we aren’t so bad off. Life is pretty good here, even if our style looks like something that was found for free after the college kids moved out of their dorms in the spring. Scratch that, the college kids today probably all have new looking IKEA furniture, which while cheap, is probably an improvement over our stuff! You know your furniture is bad when underemployed relatives refuse your cast offs. Oh well, at least we are happy, and we don’t worry so much about the kids ruining our things.

Horrified

Last night as I was watching The Daily Show, there was a commercial for a new Christmas based horror flick. I had to shut my eyes and plug my ears until it was over. This is not a new thing for me of course, but I’m trying to decide if I am the only thirty-something alive who is unable to watch horror or heavily suspenseful movies. It is not even that I don’t like them; I really and truly can’t watch them. I have deviated from this rule a few times, and have always paid a hefty price for it. I still remember watching Night of the Living Dead in all of its black and white cheesiness, making fun of it all through the movie, only to have two solid weeks of nightmares about the zombies coming to get me. I would lay awake at night and be totally sure that some non-mortal being would grab me, no matter how much I assured myself that this couldn’t be the case. I managed to avoid the teenaged viewings of Friday the 13th movies, and the Nightmare on Elm Street flicks, but did get sucked into Halloween. Halloween was terrifying and probably caused me a month or more of nightmares and uneasy bedtimes. My friends assured me that I was just overreacting, and none of them had similar problems dealing with the scary and gory movies. I assume I am just a freak of nature unable to get past seeing something on television and thinking about its implications in my life.

It seems some people are less bothered by the “slasher” type films because they are so graphic and violent that they couldn’t possibly happen in real life, but I cannot. However, suspenseful films that are more closely tied to reality do have a greater impact on my ability to sleep at night. The movie Seven for instance, will forever be burned in my memory, and I curse the day I relented and agreed to watch it with my now DH. That movie disturbed me so much that I can’t even discuss scenes from it without having disturbed sleep, despite the fact that it has been many years since I saw it. Sometimes the images you don’t see on the screen do haunt you far more than the ones you do see. There have been other movies in that vein, and I don’t allow myself to watch them. I know it frustrates my DH that we are so limited in our selection of movies we can watch together because of my unreasonable fears. He has taken to DVRing movies like that and just watching them when I am not around.

My fear is so great that it now extends to regular network television programs. I cannot watch shows like Criminal Intent, or even some episodes of CSI when there is “disturbing” content, even Medium gets to me. These are all shows that DH likes to watch, so he DVRs them and watches them when I am occupied with other things. Of course commercials advertising movies and even television shows also get to me. I really wonder if this is a problem for me. Is it weird that I cannot shut my brain off at night? I know rationally that I am not in danger, but my mind keeps spinning these crazy scenarios anyway. I wouldn’t say that these fears rule my life to any extent. I don’t alter plans or deviate my routines because I really fear being slashed with a machete when I walk out the door, but as I’m trying to sleep I get caught in this loop that tortures me. Perhaps I just need some Ambien, or maybe I just need to keep watching happy movies and choosing things like Cheaper by the Dozen 2 even if it is predictable and lame…at least I know I won’t lie awake at night thinking about Steve Martin’s family of 12 coming to get me (though it might make me double check my birth control method!).

Still what is up with a Christmas slasher movie? What does that say about our world?

Global warming much?

Picture this, woman gets home from work, changes into running clothes (a light long-sleeved cool max shirt and a single layer of running tights), and goes for a run outside. So you are thinking, what is the big deal about that, people do that every day, why in the hell are you wasting my time with it on your blog? The big deal is that it was December 14th, and I ran outside with only one thin layer of clothing on my body. Not only did I only have one layer of clothing on, but maybe 2 miles into my run I felt too warm and wished I had worn shorts instead. It was December 14th, seriously, in the Frozen Tundra it is not supposed to be warm enough to even consider running outside in shorts in December. That is why I own a treadmill. I don’t like to run in the cold, I don’t like to have to don 3 layers of clothing just to freeze my ass off while running. I much prefer outdoor running to treadmill running, but being the weather wimp that I am I always opt for shorts and a sports bra in the climate controlled house over icicles forming on your neck gaiter because your warm breath condenses in it when you breathe and then freezes.

I know there are die hard runners out there; it seems that one of my neighbors is of that variety, but as far as I’m concerned they are crazy. I am not one of them. I used to run outside more often through the entire winter, at least doing my long runs outside to break up the monotony of all of that treadmill running. I find it difficult to motivate myself to run much more than an hour at a shot on the treadmill, so I would take my longer runs outside and just grit my way through it. Now I’ve decided that if I just don’t sign up for a long distance race that will be run before April or May I can just skip all of those longer runs until it is warmer. I can fit in a 7 miler in an hour or so on the TM, and I figure that is good enough to get me through the cold months in decent condition.

As I was running my 4 miles last night, I couldn’t help but ponder why it is that we have no snow on the ground in mid-December, why it was almost 50 degrees when it shouldn’t be much above 32 F. I started really thinking about the Al Gore documentary, An Inconvenient Truth, that I’ve been hearing about. I haven’t watched it, nor was it high on my list of things to buy for Christmas gifts, but I know I want to watch it eventually. I caught part of Al Gore on Oprah a few weeks back, and even the brief views of the documentary had a tremendous impact. It is easy to say that one day of above average temps doesn’t indicate anything in regards to global warming, but the fact is that we’ve had pitiful snow fall for several years now, hotter summers, and warmer winters. It makes me want to buy a hybrid car, but honestly I don’t feel all that motivated to do much more. It feels like such a big problem, and I guess that makes me feel helpless to solve things all on my own. Is it really terrible for me to say that I don’t mind the warmer weather? It is just too bad that there are so many nasty consequences that come along for the ride.

Just when you think you know

I know I am tempting fate by posting this, but I feel I owe my readers an update on The Girl’s difficult bedtime rituals. For the past maybe 5 nights The Girl has been remarkably easy to get to sleep. She has been so easy to get to sleep that both last night and the night before we were able to simply plop her in her crib, give her a kiss, turn on the Fisher Price aquarium, and walk away. She simply went to sleep on her own. It is amazing to me. Just when you think you are doomed for a life filled with an hour of sitting in a dark nursery and quietly creeping out of the room, something changes. It is just too bad that I have no idea what changed. Our nighttime routines haven’t altered too much, nor have we all of a sudden become horribly consistent. Maybe she just sensed that I was a little fed up with her high maintenance needs (DH does so much better with this…even at her worst he just shrugs and says oh well as he sits in her room for hours). Maybe she is just starting to realize just how nice it is to sleep (I highly doubt that), or maybe the planets are aligned just right and it will all go back to shit tonight. At least I can take comfort in the fact that I got to sit and read a book for a solid hour last night, who really knows what The Girl has in store for me tonight.

Finished!

I don’t know how it is possible, but I have finished my Christmas shopping and it is only December 14th. DH and I scribbled out a rough list of the people we needed to buy for a few weeks back, and I then converted it into Excel format listing out recipient, giver, ideas, budget, store location, and whether or not it had been purchased. Today I was updating the list and found that the only gifts left to buy are the ones for myself (which naturally fall to my DH to purchase), oh and a gift from the children to DH. I’m not saying that I am completely done with all gift related tasks, as there are still 3 packages that need to be shipped off relatively soon (two are waiting for online purchases to arrive before they can be sent on to their final destinations). My Christmas cards haven’t been sent out either, since we are still waiting for the photo cards to arrive from the photographer. Still, I can’t help but feel proud and relieved to have the bulk of the stress behind me. Perhaps my decision to just plod ahead rather than agonizing over every purchase was a wise one. That and my impulse trip into Sephora where I found gifts for most of the “hard to buy for” women on my list, everyone likes lip gloss right?

Now I guess I have to focus on some menu planning since we are hosting Christmas dinner again this year. Any good ideas for things to pair with roast beef? We are tired of ham and turkey…

Entertainment

I don't think I have posted a picture of my kids here before, but in order to get the gist of what I am talking about you need to watch this video. Yes, that is The Girl dancing happily and enjoying some Christmas music, only to have The Boy come and steal the doll she was holding which made her cry. This type of activity happens often in our house, one child happily playing with something only to have the other steal a toy or otherwise interrupt the play so that they in turn become the center of attention. Sometimes it is entertaining for me, other times it is exhausting, but mostly I've been looking at things from my parents' perspective. I vividly remember playing similar games with my brother when we were young, and it is only now that I can see why my parents reacted the way that they did. Ah, this must be where the "I hope you have children just like you when you grow up" phrase comes from!

Typical scene from my childhood: My brother and I minding our own business, I decide to approach him only to have him tell me to get away from him. I continue prodding him until he says something to the effect of "if you touch/talk to/breathe on me one more time I will pound you to the ground." Of course I could never resist and always pushed that button that was just dangling in front of my eyes, and then got beat up. I did my best girly fight moves, biting, kicking, pinching, and scratching and probably held my own for a while but ended up on the losing end most times. I would then go crying to my parents for help, only to be met with "what did you do to make him hit you?" Not only was I hurt, but I had no sympathetic ears to cry to. Life seemed very unfair to me then.

Now, as I watch The Girl purposely take The Boy's beloved Cars figures away from him, only to run away and giggle and wait for him to chase her I finally get it. The fight was my entertainment as pathetic as it was, and The Girl is getting hers that way too. Hopefully physical violence doesn't ensue in my house in the near future, but I guess I just see it as inevitable at some point. The Boy takes toys away to make The Girl cry too, he knows it is a sure fire way to engage her negatively or not...it also garners attention from the parents.

I would like to find better ways of dealing with this stuff then just blaming the instigator and letting things unfold, but I'm wondering if that is even feasible. I have a feeling that The Girl will just get scrappier and scrappier as the years roll on, and The Boy will refine his methods of retaliation. Amazing how different it is when you are in the driver's seat, and still don't think you can control the train wreck. I just want to take this moment to say, Mom (and Dad) I'm sorry for adding to your grey hair counts.

The snake ate the baby Jesus

We put our Christmas decorations up on Sunday. The Boy has been having a blast playing with all of the “new toys.” He has little conversations between the snowmen, has them take rides in his cars and trucks, and just generally enjoys himself. Last night I sorted through the last unpacked box of decorations and found our pathetic little nativity set (no offense Mom, I know you gave it to us, but the figures do look a little scary…baby Jesus looks like baby Damien and frankly that disturbs me a bit). I wouldn’t have even put it out, but I knew The Boy would enjoy playing with the figures especially since it included a baby (the baby Jesus of course). The Boy started asking questions about the set, and DH was happy to oblige. I expected different answers from DH, since he isn’t the friendliest person about religion, but he did well and fed The Boy the “right” answers about each figurine. The Boy started acting out scenes with the figures, starting with “the fairy” flying in to help the people. DH corrected him, that it was in fact an angel and not a fairy, but The Boy said “no, it is a fairy” in the way he does when he knows we are obviously WRONG and he is RIGHT. As in, you are crazy Dad, I know this is a fairy, why on earth would you think it was an angel, just look at the wings Dad?! Our lack of religious exposure for our kids is really showing through isn’t it?

A little later in the evening, The Boy was occupying himself and we hear him say “The snake just ate the baby Jesus.” Sure enough he was playing with his dollar store wooden snake and had made it eat baby Jesus. He saw that we laughed at this, so the snake slithered over to us and The Boy said “The baby Jesus is in the snake’s tummy now.” We of course thought this was hilarious and burst into laughter. Forget about the fact that we are failing to expose our child to Christianity for a moment because this is just plain funny! I can’t recall exactly how we responded to The Boy, but I think we just let him move on. I’m sure tomorrow the snake will end up eating “the fairy,” or perhaps “the director” (he seems to be calling the kings director, or maybe he is saying conductor). I meant to take a picture of the snake curled up inside of the nativity box, but I missed the opportunity. I’m sure The Boy will come up with something equally cute before this holiday season is over.

Do not go gentle into that good night

When either DH or I are putting The Girl to bed at night I am often reminded of a poem I first read in 10th grade. It is entitled “Do not go gentle into that good night,” by Dylan Thomas. The poem itself is about death, but the last lines seem to apply to my dear girl as she fights her evening slumber: “Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” This is most definitely what she is doing. She knows she is tired, but yet has to fight it off with every ounce of her being before relenting and drifting off to sleep. If only she knew how much fun we will have waking her up at 9 am on a Saturday morning when she is a teenager, just because we can! Okay, maybe we won’t be so cruel, but these long evenings of sitting beside her crib and waiting until she is done playing with her wonderful Fisher Price aquarium are getting to be a drag. Sometimes it takes her less than 20 minutes to fall asleep, but on a bad night it can take 1.5 hours. I realize we are weak parents, and our little girl has us wrapped around her little finger, but I am simply not strong enough to let her cry it out. She wails so miserably and loudly, and sounds so pathetic that inevitably one of us will break down and “rescue” her.

For now we sit and listen and wait for our little girl to rage against the dying of the light, just long enough for her to feel good about going gently into that good night.

The month long cold

If you know me from another online environment, or in the world of actual human contact you know that I am sick. I have been suffering with a cold for the past almost 4 weeks now. I had a few days where I thought I was recovered, only to have the cough return with a vengence. My last post referred to some pain under my left rib cage, which after a little more googling I decided was due to the intense coughing I have been doing for weeks. It makes sense, because I have really been miserable which almost everyone I come in contact with can attest to. I'm sure the passengers I fly next to are oh so grateful that I am adding to the toxic sludge air that is the inside cabin of the airplane, but what can I do?

Monday morning I decided to go to the doctor to see if I could get a real cough medicine perscription, and had secret hopes that the doctor would tell me that I couldn't fly with my current illness. Sadly, I left the office with zero of the things I'd hoped for. I should be thankful that I am healthy despite the presence of an ear infection (seriously other than some strange ear popping that is hard to resolve and makes me nearly deaf in that ear I had no idea). I know the general advice is not to let little kids fly with ear infections because it can be excrutiating, but the doctor I saw passed that off as a non-issue for me. Ugh. She did say I could use it as excuse to stay home if I wanted to, but in my book that is basically like calling into work when you aren't really sick (although in this case I suppose I am sick). If I didn't have to use my "vacation" time to stay home sick I might have considered staying home. So yes, you guessed it I am typing away in my hotel room right now. I'm now taking a cocktail of Amoxicillin, Mucinex DM, and Advil all at varying intervals to handle my symptoms. It is a good thing I got a flu shot this year because if I were to get the flu on top of this I think I would be screwed.

Irrational fears

Do you ever have a minor health concern that ends up blowing up in your mind and becoming your focus for days? I do, obviously or why would I be blogging about it right? My recent concern began sometime this past Sunday. At some point I noticed that it felt like I had sore muscles in the area under my left rib cage. Of course I hadn’t done anything that could have caused sore muscles recently so it struck me as odd. I didn’t think much of it, started telling myself that it could be a side effect of the flu shot I’d received just a few days prior (however unlikely that may be). At some point yesterday while still feeling the sore muscle feeling I started to let the floodgates open in my mind, and of course headed straight for Dr. Google. Thankfully, nothing of interest popped up in my web sleuthing, but I did start staring at a calendar to see when my last AF had occurred. I don’t keep track really because AF with my handy dandy Mirena IUD isn’t much more than spotting. I have no need to worry about pregnancy since Mirena is more effective than female sterilization, so what difference does it really make? I did recall having AF-like spotting on a business trip, but I’d had many in these past few months so it was a little tricky to pinpoint which one. When I’d finally isolated the likely trip I realized it had been 5 weeks or so since her last visit. Just try Googling IUD AND pregnancy and you will see what kind of horrid thoughts started creeping into my head.

When I let myself go to that place it is very hard to talk myself down. I start coming up with “symptoms” which support whatever I have self diagnosed myself as having. After having a few semi panic attacks involving being rushed to the emergency room because of a burst fallopian tube due to an ectopic pregnancy, I rushed to Walgreens at lunch, went home and peed on a stick. Negative, pheew! I called DH to tell him that I wasn’t in fact pregnant, and he said “that’s nice Hun.” I’m starting to think that the IUD may not be the best birth control choice for me, while I love that it involves no effort on my part, it is hard to trust that it works as it is advertised. I am an IUD baby after all (yes when your Mom who had polio as a baby and therefore has paralyzed legs gets pregnant with you when your older brother is just 6 months old you know you weren’t planned!), and those thoughts creep into my head a little too often for my tastes. Of course I don’t want to go back on the pill, and this not having AF business is really nice (if you get past the irrational pregnancy thoughts that creep in occasionally), and I’m not ready to risk a third baby so there it is. I guess I do nothing and live with the freak outs. One pee on a stick episode in the 17 months I’ve had the IUD isn’t so bad is it?

Home at last

I thought I owed my blog a post from home, a truely rare occurance. Yesterday was fabulous, we wrapped up work at the client site ultra early which allowed us an ultra early flight back home. I managed to be at daycare just as The Boy woke up from his nap. He practically leaped up into my arms, and we just cuddled for a few minutes until we heard The Girl shouting from the other room. We made our way home, DH called to say he was going out for a drink and we shouldn't wait for him with dinner so we didn't. We watched Disney's Cars and played with all of The Boy's car paraphanalia at the same time. I made a wonderful dinner of corn dogs, oven fries, and baked beans. DH came home, I gave the kids baths, put The Boy to bed, and then sat in The Girl's room for approximately 1.5 hours trying to get her to fall asleep before giving up and making DH do it. I suck. He does it for 3 nights straight and I can't even handle one night. Oh well.