Eucalyptus Pillow

"Greed is Good"

2008-08-13T15:34:00.003-05:00

My 6 year old son, CJ, and I were discussing the virtues of a part time job during summer vacation. While he is too young to work now, we were discussing some of the jobs kids have to earn some extra money. And it went something like this…

Me: “Well, how about doing the chores around the house for spending money?”
CJ: “Too boring.”
Me: “What about babysitting, that’s a good way to earn some extra money.”
CJ: “I’ve already got Andrew following me around all day! I don’t want to watch more little kids!”
Me: “OK, then how about a paper route, like Phil has. Me and Dad both had a paper route. You could start that in just a few years.”
CJ: “Not enough money! I need to get paid more than what they offer.”
Me (trying not to laugh): “They don’t pay enough? OK, then how about cutting lawns?” CJ: “That would pay the best. And I could hand out business cards and have, like, my own business!”

Later that night while tucking him into bed….

Me: “Ceej, I was wondering, why don’t you think a paper route would pay enough?”
CJ: “Because Phil told me what he makes.”
Me: “Oh yeah? What?”
CJ: “He makes like, 50 cents or something like that. I need a whole dollar!”

Sickness Squared

2008-08-11T12:56:00.001-05:00

Unfortunately, this past week was full of some sicknesses. Last Monday I watched my friend’s two children (who are friends with my kids), and from there it went downhill. The next day her daughter starting puking, and according to a strep test at the doctor was diagnosed with strep throat. 2 days later (after her daughter was feeling better), we all went out for ice cream and as I ordering at the walk-up window, my friend says, “Uh oh, he’s puking…”, referring to my son, Andrew. (My kids have a knack for puking as soon as we enter a restaurant establishment–—my older son did the same thing in a Chik-Fil-A several months ago. I felt lucky, though that neither had puked 2 mins earlier, which would have been all over my car. Restaurant workers just love us.) So after stripping him down, wrapping him with a towel which was handily in the trunk, my friend took CJ, while I whisked Andrew back home. It certainly put closure to the cranky mood he had been exhibiting for the past 48 days, so mystery solved there.

But wait, this story is not over.

Flash forward to Saturday afternoon, when Andrew is feeling better and it’s gorgeous weather. We all take a ride to the park, and within about 30 mins of being there, CJ starts spiking a fever. But he’s “OK, mom” according to him. Yep. So back at home, he lazily makes his way through the day insisting he is not sick when he’s sweating from a fever, not talking (extremely unusual), and refused a bowl of ice cream, claiming he wasn’t hungry. The refusal of ice cream sealed it for me. So, even though he never ended up puking, he suffered through the weekend (which did I mention was gorgeous weather?) with a fever. As of this morning when I left for work he was rather sprite and chewing on a banana.

But wait, this story is not over.

Back to my friend. Her and her family had plans to go away to PA this weekend, about a five hour drive from where we are in Columbus. While all went well in PA, on the ride back, her 6 year old son was puking the whole way home.

Isn’t this August? I thought we weren’t supposed to be dealing with mystery stomach viruses. I thought all that was saved for the winter months when we are either coughing, sneezing, puking or aching?

The best day evah

2008-08-04T11:59:00.003-05:00

The party on Friday turned out to be a success, as was evidenced by the comment from my friend’s 4 year old daughter, “This is the best day evah!” I loved hearing that considering you just never know whether kids will have fun doing the things you think they will have fun doing. I had one medium sized pool set up, a slide pool, a baby pool, a sprinkler, and an inflatable castle. We also had a gazillion water balloons (see pic below) and the sand box on the deck, as well as a make-it-yourself peanut butter and jelly buffet with ice cream tubs to follow. My husband, the moms and I were opening beers by early afternoon. We all had our feet up, enjoying the fact that our kids were completely entertained for the afternoon, as well as being completely worn out at the end of it. The weather was hot, but bearable, and I have to say it was one of my most enjoyable days so far this summer. Everyone came out unscathed with no bruises or band-aids.

Which leads me to why it felt so good to just let it all hang out and take a vacation day from work. There always seems to be a tug-of-war over work vs. spending time with the kids. And I don’t just mean the day job. I also mean the cleaning, the yard work, my creative pursuits, or simply reading the Sunday paper. I know I’m not the only one who suffers from this, so I try not to stroke the violin too much. It’s a daily thing for almost every parent, I know. I just get weepy sometimes as I think of how quickly the time will go. Over the weekend, the time span of “15 years” came into the conversation and how 15 years ago it was 1993. And I think about where I was in 1993, which was my last year of college. While it seems light years and maturity levels ago, it also has gone very fast. And so I fast-forward to thinking about my life 15 years from now, when the kids will be 21 and 17. No more fun Fridays with a backyard pool, no silliness over water balloons and no one will want to be sipping Capri Sun from a straw. I’m not saying fun times will be over, but “fun” will have a completely different meaning, and rarely at that age does it involve your parents. What’s further distressing about 15 years ahead is that I will be 52 and my husband will be 64. Again, seems like light years, but it will certainly go quicker than the last 15 years has. I try to remain positive about the prospect of being 52, but something doesn’t sit well with me when I think of myself at that age, or worse, when I think of my husband in his 60s.

On the bright side…cheers to fun Fridays in the backyard. It’s good for the mind and soul.

What did our mothers do before playback machines were invented?

2008-07-31T20:19:00.003-05:00

Seriously, I have no idea. Tonight, "101 Dalmations" has been my saving grace. It was last night, too. Ah, what the heck, maybe it'll be tomorrow night's, too. Or "Stuart Little 2". I might not even need it. We have a mega backyard party planned tomorrow for CJ and his buddies. Water balloons, a water slide, sprinkler, make your own sandwiches, and ice cream tubs. When I grew up on the Jersey shore we never had backyard sprinkler parties, we just went to the beach. And when I moved to Columbus 4 years ago, it was a huge culture shock on what to do in the summertime on the weekend since we are so land-locked. Now, after a little time have passed, we have figured out how to cool off. Summertime is all about the community pool and the backyard sprinklers.

So hopefully we all (and by "we all" I mean specifically Andrew) will sleep tonight so we can wake up all refreshed and ready to party. The moms of the friends are coming over, too who I am friends with so I'm really glad I'm playing hooky from work tomorrow. I know last post was really tongue in cheek, but really, when will this 2 1/2 year old sleep? I guess it's a bit of a slap in the face considering we didn't have these issues with CJ. Part of me can hardly remember how we even got CJ to bed, it seems so long ago. We're starting to try and toilet train Andrew now, and I swear, I have forgotten everything we did to get CJ toilet trained. Is my brain really that fried? Most of the time I call Andrew "CJ" and CJ "Andrew." When I do something like that I stop and think: "Mirror mirror on the wall, I have become my mother after all." And I'm still deciding if that's a good thing.

Next post: the great mid-summer backyard water party wrap-up

Things to do on a Monday

2008-07-28T21:17:00.003-05:00

Miss your morning breakfast habit
Get insulted by your boss
Feel like sh*t due to bullet above
Tell your son to stop farting at the dinner table
Kiss a boo-boo on a thumb
Tell a toddler 10 times to go to bed
Find said toddler in living room hiding behind the curtain in the dark
Put toddler back to bed and let him cry it out
Breathe a sigh after the house is quiet
Wonder when this child will ever sleep
Reads some blogs
Write a post
Yawn
Say goodnight....

Anyone else have a typical Monday?

And sleep finally comes.

(Yes, those are socks on George's feet, because you know, they get cold of course)

The darndest things

2008-07-24T15:11:00.002-05:00

So I had a good time with a friend last night who was over my house, putting up our feet sharing a couple drinks while the kids ran around the yard and played, and we were sharing some of those “gotta write this down” questions and expressions our kids have shared with us over the years. As we were sharing the classic quips, she shared a keeper that her daughter asked her. Of course, I don’t have a daughter, and it’s questions like this that I’m glad I don’t (although not to say a boy wouldn’t ask this). She asked, “Do you have to be married to have a baby?” Back in the day, I would have gotten 40 lashes from the nuns at my Catholic school for even pondering such a thing. I liked my friend’s response, though, which was appropriately diplomatic: “Well, yes you can. But it would more ideal if you were married.”

Interesting timing for that particular topic of conversation. Because in the next breath, I am passing on the good news that my closest friend in NJ just gave birth on Monday to her first child, and she is…unmarried. She has been dating the father for several years, and they plan to marry in the fall, but still, it has been an unexpected backward series of events. I honestly don’t care if she gets married or not, or if anybody who wants a child gets married, but I do think a child longs for the love from both parents however they get it. There are different things a mom gives to her children, and different things a dad gives to his children. If that can be done in unison, well, maybe there’s an argument for parents being together when they raise a child. I know that my friend’s response had nothing to do with the morality of marriage that some people love to argue, but more for the logistical reasons. A spouse’s 5 day long business trip can bring us married folks to the brink of insanity and makes us wonder, “How do single parents do it??” I lean on my husband for certain things, as he does me, and I admit, I have no idea how single parents do it. It has got to be the hardest job in the world.

"Hey Mama, I'm not a morning person either!"

Me vs The Chigger

2008-07-21T10:46:00.002-05:00

OK, so I need some real help. Well, I need lots of real help, but I have something very specific to write about. There’s a micropscopic nemesis that has descended upon my backyard that will not go away: the chigger. These things are wreaking havoc on my backyard fun. Opening my sliding glass door to the beacon of my backyard to garden, play catch with the kids, and push them on the swings has become about as safe as swimming off the coast of a New England seaside town (cue music…). I’ve had 3 bouts of them already this summer, and Andrew has had them all along his diaper area now for the past few weeks. Not easy trying to let him air out a little.

The difficult decision to spray pesticides today and remove some well established plants over the weekend was not an easy one. (You could call us slight tree-huggers, maybe something like tree hand-shakers or tree’s acquaintances). But after sleepless nights scratching, I reached the end of my rope. What’s also irritating is that they don’t seem to be biting my husband. He has yet to suffer from a bout of chigger bites like me and the kids have been. And he does all the grass cutting and weed whacking. The only remedy I have found to speed up the itching process is to spray a fast flow of water directly on the bites with the hottest water I can stand. Unfortunately the kids wouldn’t be able to handle the hot water, so they can’t use this remedy. But hot compresses on the bites seems to work. Otherwise, preventive measures have been bug spray, with little success, and I’m not a huge fan of deet.

So does anyone else suffer from these annoying mites? Any remedies you care to share?

Seems like old times

2008-07-19T09:30:00.002-05:00

Howdy.

So recently I've been inspired again to take fingers to keyboard and start blogging again. I have better technology and convenience for posting than I did a year ago, so hoping it will be easier this time around. Of course there's still that tricky thing called "time" that has not been improved upon, but I suppose it's all about making time, right?

Anyway, after a year, the kids are getting bigger, work still has its ups and downs, and I'm currently developing an online store with my paper/stationery collection in hopes that one day it will get me out of the corporate world. More to come on that.

Not sure what to pick up with after almost a whole year off. I guess it will come to me, and I can post about that next time. For now, it's off to the pool with the kids to cool off on a hot day in the summertime.

Until next time, Go Barack!

As the World Turns

2007-09-18T12:41:00.000-05:00

Life this year seems to have been a whirlwind. Like I mentioned a few weeks back, before I knew it, I hadn’t blogged in over 3 months. Now today, it has occurred to me that I’ve drifted back into old ways and haven’t blogged now in over 2 weeks. Shame on me. But… truth is, I have to be realistic and question just how much time I have to devote to it. I can write on my own blog, but then when I’m not reading other blogs and commenting it just becomes another form of a journal, and then what’s stopping me from just writing in an “off-line” version of that, if my sole point is to document my life. And that’s kind of why I started blogging in the first place – the document life as a mom, which then led me into a world of other mommy bloggers who had similar problems and it became very comfortable to know that other chicks in Minnesota, Maryland and Massachusetts were all going through the same things as me. I guess it’s all part of that “pack mentality” or something that comforts us all. Who knows. I’m not a psychology major. But anyway, why do I blog? I don’t know. Does anyone?

I’m unable to meet the challenge proposed to me by the infamous Mayberry Mom. Sorry Mayberry! And while her writing challenge is exuberating, it is equally exhausting. Honestly, I’m on a constant stream of high energy brain power during the day at work that I have nothing left. I’m tapped out. And I know some women can do it, but I can’t. And I’m not ashamed of it. I have a new job at work that demands much of my creativity on a daily basis. And that’s all I can say about work. I can’t afford to get Dooced.

On to another subject that I last wrote about: the queen of mean. It seemed to stir up lots of opinions apparent by the commenting, and I love that everyone had such a passionate view of the situation. I really appreciated everyone’s advice. Well, I have a final chapter to end the story. To make a very long story short, last week I heard first hand that not only was Diana telling CJ that he couldn’t play at her house, but that she was telling him in front of all the other neighborhood kids that he couldn’t play at their houses either. So from queen of mean to a total dictatorship. You know, typical bully horseshit. So I didn’t react to it, I didn’t forbid him from going down. We just didn’t go down. At all. Anymore. And CJ hasn’t requested to go play with that group of kids anymore. So it seemed to have worked itself out. A little. Although internally I was still pissed about the whole situation as it seemed so unfortunate to be learning these facts about life at such a young age. I don’t recall having to deal with the bully stuff until I was about 8 or 9. Good news is that he has recently befriended a new kid that just moved in a couple weeks ago to the house that butts up to our backyard. So they have been climbing the fence back and forth to play. His name is Tyler. And he’s all boy and all about destruction. But I would have to say this is the better of 2 evils after what happened this summer. So I’ll live with destructo-boy.

But what’s interesting about the final chapter of this whole Diana thing is that I did get some closure with the parents. Last week while I was playing with the kids in the front yard, her father approached me and mentioned that they hadn’t seen CJ playing down at their house anymore, and wondered if he had offended me by not checking up on CJ after his accident on their treadmill. He apologized for that, and I acknowledged that, but indicated it really wasn’t because of that that CJ wasn’t playing at his house anymore. And then I proceeded to tell him everything Diana had been saying to him lately. He was visibly upset and apologized for it all. He is definitely a nice person, so is her mother, and I really don’t fault them completely for what is going on with her daughter. Because as I learned from him, all this goes back to the old saying, “shit rolls downhill.” He told me that Diana is getting teased by some girl, Eva, up the street and getting excluded from playing with her and another girl. It also became known to me that Diana told him that there is another kid on the block, named Mitchell, who is teasing CJ, too. So it’s not only Diana who is the culprit in calling him “repeating boy”, etc. Well, I thanked him for approaching me, which I think was big of him to do, and we parted with him letting me know that he would be talking to her about what she was saying. I’ve come to the conclusion to just let it lie and reflect on what we can learn about this situation. I never expected to have to deal with this so early on, but I guess you never know when these things will happen as a parent. But truth is, I felt ill-prepared for a proper reaction. It’s true when they say your first kid really is the “test baby.” I guess when all this happens to his younger brother, I’ll know what to do. This is when it seems to be getting harder as a parent, and toilet training seems like the good ol' days.

The Last Summer Weekend Wrap-up

2007-09-04T09:07:00.000-05:00

So thanks everyone for the feedback from the last post. I have a few responses to them. CTD and Heather mentioned that it might make Diana more appealing to play with if we forbid him to. As I understand the logic behind this, I think that happens more in the teenage world of parenting. I totally understand what you guys are saying, because my mom did it to me, too when she would try to make me stray from the so-called “bad crowd”, but that was when I was a teenager. As for protecting him from the ridicule of a 6 year old, OK, perhaps forbidding him to see her is a little more than his brain can handle. And yes, while he may seem less bothered by it than I do, because it's not like he's marched home crying about any of this, what I failed to mention is that on and off this summer CJ had been walking around with a vague sadness, that I wonder now had been related to what had been happening with this girl. Remember, whatever CJ has told me is all I know, I’m sure there have been plenty of other things she has said to him that he failed to mention. So as for forbidding him to play with her, I relent, and admit perhaps that was a harsher reaction than necessary, so I haven’t mentioned it again. The tactic is to try and keep him busy enough with things in his spare time to avoid the opportunity of going up the street anyway. So far it has worked as we spent most of the weekend on the go to festivals, birthday parties, a sleepover at his cousin’s, and the last day of the pool. And now school is officially in full swing, so hopefully this may all work itself out anyway. So maybe it’s time we put this subject to bed both on this blog and at home.

But before I do, I still feel strongly about defending myself on one point, though. When someone tells your 5 year old child that they don’t like them, don’t want to play with them, then take a measuring stick out of the garage and tell him in front of the other kids on the block that he is too little to play with them, how else would a person react? Do you really remain neutral? I don’t know. I think there’s the visceral reaction coming into play here that must continually be repressed when parenting.

So, on to other bright topics. We had a great holiday weekend – did lots of stuff and kept ourselves very busy. I was cruising along well doped up on Vicatin. Yes, Vicatin. No, neighborhood tribulations have not led me into drugs, I pinched a nerve in my neck sometime a week or so ago. I do this sometimes, and more or less it goes away with some Tylenol and massage. To no avail, this time around. So I called up the doctor, which I totally hate to do, and got a prescription for steroids and Vicatin. I would recommend Vicatin for any ailment, as it has become my new favorite pain reliever of choice! Not just for pains in the neck, but for tolerating aggravating human behaviors, too!

So the neck pain is alleviating, although I think the source of the recurring pain is my non-ergonomically correct posture and position of my computer at work. I use 2 computers at work --- a PC and a Mac --- and they are beside each other. Going back and forth between them sometimes on busy days I think strains my muscles in my right arm, leading up to the muscles in my neck. Because my right arm muscles feel very sore, too. So I’m using the mouse today with my left hand.

And I’m not ambidextrous...

The Queen of Mean Part II (and I don't mean Leona Helmsley, RIP)

2007-08-31T09:04:00.000-05:00

OK, I’ve had it with this queen of mean up the street from us. We’ve reached the final straw in my opinion and it pained me to have to take the necessary steps I did. I have forbid CJ to play with her from now on, and I’ll tell you why.

We haven’t been encouraging them to play together lately due to the collection of incidents that have happened. And they haven’t really played much together anyway. But late yesterday afternoon there was a group of kids congregating at her house playing in her front yard and of course, he asks, “Can I go to Diana’s?” Well it’s been quiet the past week as far as drama, so I figured it was safe for maybe 30-60 minutes of playtime. It was close to dinner time anyway so he wouldn’t be up there long. Dave and I told him he could not go into her house, and he was just to play out in front (which is where everyone was anyway).

So after about 45 minutes, Dave calls for him to come back home and have dinner. Later on, we were up in my room and the news was on, and there was a retrospective of Princess Diana, and CJ says, “Oh that’s just like my friend, Diana.” Then soon after that a string of disclosures come out of his mouth of what just transpired up the street at her house. He said she told him that she doesn’t like him anymore, that she doesn’t want to come to his house anymore, and she got a tape measure out of the garage and measured him and said that he was too little to play with them. There were other kids up at her house, so of course they witnessed this ridicule. Now if that wasn’t enough to rip the heart out of my chest, what he said next was even worse. After he told me all that she had said, (and at this point I’m really trying to play my emotions in front of him right) I told him that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea that he play with her anymore and that I didn’t want him going to her house anymore. Well, all hell broke loose, which is what I dreaded. You know what he said to me? He said, “But Diana is my friend. She was my friend when we first moved here. She was just playing with me, I was just kidding with you. She never said those things to me.” And when I insisted that it just wasn’t healthy for him to play with her, and how it can’t be any fun to be talked to that way, and that he’ll meet other kids from school who will be nicer, he just continued to cry and cry. It was the saddest thing to see. He’s really truly innocent and just oblivious to this girl’s manipulations. I don’t condone physical violence, but honestly, I wanted to march right up there and slap the shit out of that girl for how she’s damaged my son’s feelings. I totally realize that this is just the beginning of my son entering the big bad world, but it doesn’t make the sting any less painful. This was the last thing I thought we would encounter when we moved to the neighborhood. CJ was a very popular kid in preschool, and never, never had any of these issues with ANY kids before. My husband’s theory is that since she’s such a queen bee and likes to rule the roost of the block, that the other kids were playing with CJ too much and she got jealous and just wanted to get rid of him. Which I could see as somewhat true because I’ve seen him with the other kids and he doesn’t have those issues with them. CJ’s main goal in life is to have fun and play; I don’t think his brain is capable of strategy or manipulation. He’s a fun-loving, typical 5 year old. And I will de damned if some 6 year old Bad Seed is going to dampen that spirit or influence him.

So I felt I had no choice but to tell him he couldn’t play up there anymore. Which was hard because a lot of the kids congregate up there. But the fact that she has now gone so far as saying that she doesn’t like him anymore, doesn’t want to come over anymore, and that he is too little to play with them (for the record—CJ is far from little, he’s as tall as she is and the tallest kid in his kindergarten class---in fact, that can sometimes work against him because people think he’s in 1st or 2nd grade already and wonder why he acts like he does) how can I possibly subject him to that? Is it all worth it just to be included in the group? I know short term his little brain can’t understand the complexity behind that, but I really believe I’m doing the right thing. I did make a point to thank him for telling me everything and for being honest, because I think making him feel like he can communicate with me is an important precursor to our future relationship.

Anyone else care to weigh in on the nonsense with this girl? I’m in a total fit about this today if you haven’t noticed.

Me loves me

2007-08-30T14:04:00.000-05:00

Besides mastering the art of chic, as seen in the picture at left, Andrew displayed a unique talent last night while outside playing. It seems as though he’s discovered the ability to take off his diaper from underneath his clothes. And no, there was no poop.

This time.

Wednesday Morning Kindergarten Raw

2007-08-29T16:04:00.000-05:00

Thanks to everyone for the encouraging words on behalf of my son in my last post. It’s stupid that I let a 6 year old girl inhabit so much of my brain during the day, but I can’t deny that she’s a throwback to particular girls of my youth that were nemeses of my day. I’m sure all this affects him much less than it has affected me, so I’m confident his self esteem is well intact. Today is his first official day in kindergarten and he was a little upset about things not being the same way as they were in preschool, but I’m sure after time he’ll adjust. Some of the children were crying yesterday at the open house, and he was nothing but eager to play with the other children. I don't think there is any time where he is not ready and eager to play. His teacher seems nice, albeit a little overwhelmed, and there was a fair share of running around and speaking up by a few loud kids. So, a typical kindergarten class---a little tears, a little sweat, a little running and a lot of talking. You know, mayhem.

As for the neighborhood, we’ve kept him near the house lately. He was a popular kid in preschool, so I’m sure all this nonsense with Diana has him totally confused. Let’s face it—he’s never been manipulated before. We had high hopes for him finding new friends once we moved to the new neighborhood and maybe we set the bar a little too high, which rubbed off on him. He’s been fairly protected most of his life in the shell of his own home since he didn’t go to daycare, so his emotions are raw and he’s very sensitive. We lived in a condo community where there were no kids and so this sort of neighborhood free play is a totally new concept to him. And he’s just outgoing and assumes the best in everyone. Like every 5 year old should be. So it’s like, welcome to the world---it sucks. We’ve moved on to better things like making fun of dad at the dinner table last night for being a professional wrestling fan and making up pretend matches in his basement when he was a kid. Nerd with a capital N.

Last Day of Summer Vacation

2007-08-27T12:42:00.000-05:00

My brother Paul and his family were in town this weekend and I stayed up way too late. Last I looked at the clock on Saturday night it was 3:30 in the morning. I think the last time I stayed up that late grunge was in style. I’m still dragging today, because as we all know with kids, I was not able to sleep in on Sunday morning. But it was well worth it. We had some more family over for a cookout, and a good time was had by all this past weekend. It was a great feeling hosting my first party in the new house. There was football being played in the backyard, hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill, drinks on the deck and meeting new neighbors. And we made vanilla ice cream with a new Ice Cream Maker, which is what the kids are doing in the picture at left. And then the next picture is of me and the baby in our pajamas the morning after.

So, after all this time off from writing, where do I start? I guess I’ll start with one subject that’s been most omnipresent this whole summer: CJ’s adaptation to the kids in the neighborhood. There is a girl up the street named, Diana, who is a year older than him. But, acts like she’s 10 years older than him. She bosses him around, and since CJ is a fairly bossy kid himself, they kind of butt heads. But outside of that, this girl is totally manipulative. She makes sure she is the ring leader on the street, and the kids all gravitate to her house. Why that is, I have no idea. On many occasions during the week, there are a menagerie of kids at her house ranging in ages from 5 to 12. It’s unfortunate that I’ve noticed when all the kids are together, Diana makes CJ the butt of the joke. Like the “new kid on the block”. At first, I thought Diana and her parents were great people, they really made us feel like a part of the neighborhood when we first moved in, and she seemed to be very nice to CJ. Her father is a local high school teacher, her mother a preschool teacher, and he’s also the neighborhood association president. Then CJ told me after much cajoling a few weeks ago that Diana had been calling him “repeating boy” because he has a speech issue where he sometimes whispers his words after he speaks them and he stutters sometimes. So after CJ confessed this to me, I’ve been trying to figure out a plan on how I can confront them about it. So, after much deliberation, we were up at their house one evening because the kids were all playing, and I mentioned to the mother that some kids in the neighborhood had been calling him “repeating boy”, but that he had refused to disclose who was calling him that. Well, sure enough, next day, Diana knocks on our door and apologizes to CJ for calling him names. So she must have ‘fessed up to her parents. Which was admirable. And that admiration lasted for a little while.

So back to the queen of mean we become. I am now officially discouraging playtime with this girl now for another reason. Last weekend, Diana came over to play with CJ. They wanted to paint, so I set up the table on the deck and she proceeded to make room for herself and not CJ. CJ was relegated to the floor of the deck. The table is 6 feet long. I quickly corrected her that they will need to share the table. Then after a while, after getting bored of paints, they were on the swingset in the backyard, and her father yells back to her that he is going to the store with her sisters (they have twin girls who are 6 days younger than Andrew) and so she is to stay here and play with CJ. He did not ask me to babysit, mind you, but I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I get him back later.

So after a while, of course she gets bored of our house as usual and wants to go up to her house, and without warning, gets on her bike and starts to ride up the street back home. We are quickly following her up the street and I tell her she has to stay with us as her Dad is not home (the mom was away for the weekend). She says she has to check on the dog, then she says she wants to see what Jacob is doing across the street, blah, blah, blah, and that her parents let her roam the neighborhood. Well, not on my watch. So back to my house we go, and a little while later the dad returns and she and CJ head back to her house. I followed them back up the street, and then the dad asks if I wanted a beer, so I stayed around and we chatted in the driveway as all the kids played. Mostly, things were fine and the kids got along pretty well. She asked CJ to stay for dinner and so the dad was left with all the kids as I went back home to hang out with Dave. I picked him up at 8:30. They seemed to be friends again.

The next day, last Sunday, CJ went back up to Diana’s to play. About an hour later, I heard him crying as he rode his bike back home as Diana followed. She was muttering something about telling your parents the truth, and I ran outside as he got to the driveway. His head above his right eye was covered in blood, as well as both his knees. She said he was playing with “it” and “it” started going very fast and he fell off of it. I first thought it was his bike, and CJ was so upset that there was little time for clarification before she sped off. After he calmed down and we bandaged him up, we figure out that it was not his bike, it was the parent’s treadmill he got on and somehow the button got pushed and went really fast and he fell off of it. Not sure who pushed the button to make it go fast. I would suspect Diana. CJ hasn’t seen a treadmill in all his life, so not sure if he would even know how to operate it to know what buttons to push.

So I understand kids get hurt, I get that. But here’s the irritating and difficult thing for me to understand. The parents never came down to see if he was all right. And then when I saw the father a few days ago on the sidewalk walking the twins, he saw CJ riding his bike and said, “I see ‘crash’ is OK.” “Crash?” After thinking about this, and observing these people, they are much more laid back and sarcastic than me. Dave and I are sensitive about our kids, and I’m chalking up his attitude to that. Other people that I have told the story to can’t believe the parents never came to see if he was all right. If it were me, I would feel totally responsible if a kid at my house got hurt. But that’s just me.

So we met some new neighbors this weekend. While we were having our party in the backyard on Saturday, there were kids playing in the backyard that butts up against ours. There’s a 7 year old friendly kid named, Tyler who let CJ play with him and the other kids. I picked him up over the fence and then met the father when it was time for him to come home. The queen of mean already got her claws into another new neighbor, a 7 year old girl, and practically ignored CJ when he saw the 2 girls playing together the other day.

I realize this is the first of many disappointments my son will feel in life, but no one wants to see their kids hurt. So if you’ve hung in with me so far by reading this post all the way through, thanks. My husband thinks I’m pondering all this way too much and that it’s rubbing off on CJ, and maybe he’s right in a way. I just know that he is so eager to meet some kids his age to play with, and perhaps he’s pulling on my heartstrings. Today's his last day of summer vacation. He starts kindergarten tomorrow. So more adventures to come, I suppose.

For those who have lasted through this post, here's your reward. This clip from MadTV is hysterical!

I'm back, baby

2007-08-23T12:35:00.000-05:00

Well, hello bloggy friends, I have returned from a long summer hiatus from blogging. It was unintended, and then the days just kept piling on top of one another until 2 months later I realized I hadn’t written one post. There were a couple factors at work here, impeding my ability to blog: the recent move into our house, and a new gig at work. Perhaps some people are able to juggle the demands of domestic organization, the corporate jungle, and parenting effortlessly, but I have never admitted to being an overachiever. So as they say, something had to give. Frankly, the amount of brain power I have exerted recently at work left me with little energy to even form full sentences, so writing witty, entertaining content was an impossibility. Besides, it would have been an endless bitch session anyway. So as of today, I hereby officially blow off the dust on Eucalyptus Pillow. Even though I’ve been a silent lurker on some occasions these past couple months, it’s time for me catch up on some of my bloggy friends. I’ve also cleaned up my site a little and gotten rid of some things that were just not applicable anymore. I don’t mean to insult anybody, but it’s time for de-cluttering.

There’s been some interesting debates going on the blogworld lately, especially one that piqued my interest about advertising. As a marketing associate, I would have to say that advertising is ubiquitous, and who’s to say some mom in Idaho can’t jump on the bandwagon and get paid for her writing if she wants to put McDonald’s in her sidebar. The one part of blog advertising that I do find irksome are the posts that written like ads. I know there’s a word for these, but I can think of it right now. And the endless contests and promotions. It’s a little too commercial for me. It’s not why I got into blogging. But by all means, not that I’m looking to piss everybody off on my first day back, and people can do whatever the heck they want with their own sites. It’s like the argument for censorship on the radio, you can turn the dial. I can keep clicking.

OK, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, here’s what I did on my summer vacation in photos:

Before and After (excuse the brown grass)

My uncle did the work on the porch, as well as some painting in the house. Landscaping is next year’s project. And the kids are growing up way too fast. CJ starts kindergarten on Tuesday, and Andrew is feisty little toddler who is now walking all over the place. I thought that kid was never going to walk!

There’s so much to share over what’s gone on in the past 2 months, so not sure where to start other than with the pictures. More to come later about the kids in the neighborhood, why I’m now broke, our car that died, and who ate my black-eyed susans.

And The Next Chapter Begins

2007-06-05T15:17:00.000-05:00

Today I got back on the wagon and cruised some blogs of my favorite writers. And everyone seems to have been keeping just as busy as I have been over my short hiatus from blogging. We are finally completely moved in. However, I use the term “completely” very loosely, as my living and dining rooms are disaster areas and my basement looks like someone vomited toys all over the floor. I haven’t hung any of my curtains yet or done any of the painting, or unpacked all the gazillion boxes, but believe me, as soon as my body allows me to walk upright again, I’ll let you know. And then the decorating can begin. I think I must have moved about 100 boxes, climbed up and down 2 sets of stairs about 200 times, moved a curious toddler away from the top and bottom of the stairs about 300 times, and have already screwed up 2 do-it-yourself projects. Can someone tell me the following: how do you screw a gate into the wall at the top of the stairs where there are no studs? And I’m not referring to male assistance.

And since when did doorknobs become such a pain in the ass to take off? I got into a serious fight with the doorknob of my powder room and it won. Now it looks even worse than it did before, since not only is it ugly, but it’s now dangling by a final screw that won’t budge.

I might be saved by my Uncle Tom who is coming in from out of town this weekend to assess the damage. The whole house is move-in ready, it just needs a good scrub down and good paint job on both the walls and the trim, as well as some serious updating. But serious updating will have to come once I receive either a serious raise or a serious bonus at work.

The deck also needs to be power washed, painted and sealed. And all the doors need new doorknobs. Other than that, we just need to actually unpack all the boxes that are stacked around the house, and slowly do project by project. My total wish list is the following: paint the kids’ rooms and their bathroom, paint my bathroom, replace the living room and dining room curtains, paint all the trim and the walls in the living room, dining room and family rooms, add a porch rail to the front porch, replace the banister leading up the stairs, add a chair rail and wainscoting to the living room/dining room, add a chair rail to the family room, replace the flooring in the foyer, kitchen and powder room, and replace the carpet in the family room. Phew, that is quite a list. Who knows when all of that will get done. Like I said, serious raise or serious bonus.

And my husband doesn’t seem to be able to take care of children and unpack at the same time during the day (much to my irritation I’m still waiting for him to get the oil changed on one car and replace the donut tire on the other), and his mood this past week has been a little annoying. Everytime we move he gets into a funk about the transition. He has issues transitioning from one thing to the next. In other words, his threshold for stress is much lower than mine, and frankly it gets a little old. I don’t have the capacity to carry both the financial and emotional load of the family. He’s a very good nurturer and caregiver to the kids, but when it comes to multi-tasking and just simply “getting things done”, his behavior is not exemplary. I remember when I applied for the job I have right now the description of the ideal candidate included someone who has a “get it done” attitude. We are opposites in that category. Good thing or else I’d be out of a job, right? Perhaps instead of his art class he’s taking, he needs a class on domestic due diligence. He already knows how to draw!

But enough about him. I’m glad I just got that off my chest. Someone at work told me I’m annoyed with him because I just spent way too much time with him all week while I was off work. And that could be true. It’s just there’s one thing about my marriage that I have learned: my husband and I deal with stress in 2 very distinctly opposite ways. I move and he does not. In my experience, he eventually comes around after some very consistent and explosive nagging, but frankly, I don’t have the energy for nagging anymore. That was so 2006.

But in the all important and good news, the kids seem to have adapted quite well to the move. Andrew only had a few nights in our bed, and I don’t think CJ has removed his bicycle helmet once since we moved in. In fact he might be making permanent trail marks on the sidewalk as I write. He’s made some friends up the street with the fellow neighborhood urchins and already bugged the 12 year old boy to death next door to play basketball with him on a daily basis. I’m certain sooner or later that poor kid next door is not going to want to come out of his house ever for fear of the five year old who will pounce on him as soon as his foot hits the blacktop in conjunction with the dreaded words: “Oh, Phil is outside!”

As for my world, today I’m more concerned about paying for this newly acquired home. We are fine financially right now, but it will be extremely tight. Of course I haven’t had to pay that first mortgage payment yet, so the sticker shock will be frightening, I’m sure. More posts on that to come I’m sure on July 1st after I wipe myself up off the floor.

Well, now that I’m officially back online thanks to my local internet provider, I’ll be trying to get back into the blogging swing of things. And pictures of the house to come soon. You see I haven’t yet graduated to the age of digital photography yet and have issues about giving up film. I’m like my husband when it comes to photography: an old stick in the mud with transitional issues.

The Next Chapter

2007-05-21T12:18:00.000-05:00

The progress with our move is picking up. With this being my 7th move in 10 years, I’m hoping we will remain settled for quite some time. Moving in itself is not only a stressful period, what with all the organization and packing of boxes, and physical labor, but it’s an emotionally challenging time. With every move, a cornucopia of emotions gets emptied. It seems as each chapter gets completed, another component to the sum of our lives gets added, and I can’t help but reflect on where I’ve been. If any one of you readers knew the kind of financial state my husband and I were in just 4 years ago, you would truly understand the breadth of my words. In 2003, we were living in New Jersey, in an upstairs duplex apartment in a house so riddled with fire code hazards it’s amazing we got out alive. And we lived there with CJ, as a baby. I was working at a retail store making $12/hour, then coming home at nights and running a side business of designing custom invitations and announcements. Dave could not find consistent work anymore as a commercial producer, and was providing no income. We paid $900 a month for rent and drove a 2 door 1993 Chevy Cavalier, that we had to pay $600 a year to insure. We had just declared bankruptcy the year before. So the failure was now etched into public records for all to see. We were just on the heels of having lived at my mother’s condo for 8 months after having to move back home with our tail between our legs carrying a newborn, because of our failed attempt at a business in Los Angeles, where I gave birth to CJ. I was hardly on speaking terms with my mother anymore. Life was very bleak. All I can say is that it’s a good thing kids don’t develop a memory until about the age of 3. And I knew he’d be starting to become aware of his surroundings soon, however I had no idea what we were going to do.

Personal failure is a horrible thing to overcome. At the brink of the possible mental breakdown of both me and my husband, or the possible divorce, we reached out to Dave’s family for assistance. We had tapped out my mother, who, as I mentioned, I was hardly speaking to, and we were both emotionally drained. When Dave’s sister proposed the bright idea of moving to Ohio, it was not exactly a notion I met with enthusiasm. It was yet another move, and I was growing tired of running. I wasn’t quite sure how Ohio was going to answer all of our problems, but it did provide some stability and a cheaper way of life.

After 4 years of building ourselves back, I must boast how proud I am our accomplishments. When we moved here I worked yet again at another $12/hour job, while he worked nights at a $9/hr job. We had a nicer apartment because housing is cheaper, and we had emotional assistance from family members geographically close. Life slowly turned for the better, with raises, better jobs and constant persistence at improvement. And now another baby later, time is moving at the same pace as it always does, but the state in which we were living when we first pulled into town seems like decades ago. And yes, the purchase of the house will present its own set of financial challenges for us since it’s stretching our budget, but we will own a house. For so many years, I feel like I’ve been living outside of a bubble as I watch the rest of the world buy houses, buy cars, go on vacations, and invest in their retirements while I’ve been a static bystander. There’s something that validates your maturity when you do things like get married, have a baby and buy a house. It thrusts you into adulthood.

So why am I bringing all this up? Well, this Friday we close on the house. I haven’t had much time for blogging which is obvious by the fact that I haven’t posted anything in over a week, and will have to bring blogging to a close for a little while as I settle into the next chapter of my life as a homeowner. So the pillow will be on hiatus for a few weeks. Just wanted to make sure nobody thought I got wiped out by a city bus or something like that. I’ll document the move with pictures and share when I return. Take care!

On Motherhood

2007-05-11T12:50:00.000-05:00

I know there are a gazillion posts out there now about Mother’s Day, and why each person feels special to be a mom, and how blessed we all are, and blah blah blah. Well, here’s the reality. I was up all night with a feverish, sick child and it’s been like that almost the whole week. Andrew is sick again with a respiratory infection and he’s back on antibiotics. CJ has been getting less and less attention lately because Andrew seems to be on an endless trip of sickness and we’re moving in 2 weeks. TWO WEEKS. And hardly a box has been packed. Not to mention the added responsibilities for me at work.

Andrew’s fever spiked to over 104.5 last night. After already having a dose of Tylenol, we promptly dunked him in a cool bath, which he hated since he was so tired, but it seemed to help and got him cool enough to make him comfortable enough to fall asleep again. But about 5 hours later at approximately 4 am, he was up tossing and turning again, not as hot as before, but hot enough for another dose of Tylenol, and kept tossing and turning until 6 am. Dave took over most of the time during this sleepless interval because I have to have some of my brain functioning at work, but I didn’t sleep well and was up again at 5:30 anyway checking on him. Soon enough it was time to get up and get in the shower to get to work. Another night of interrupted sleep down the drain.

So as I was trying to soothe Andrew back to sleep it the haze of the early morning darkness, I couldn’t help but reflect on the moment. I can’t say I had some great revelation about motherhood at 4 am, but in the stillness and being half awake, I just laid there next to him, holding his hand. And thought of all the other nights I’d been awake with a baby. Whether it was with CJ or with him. And then I thought about my friend’s sister, who is dealing with her 10 year old son, who is fighting Leukemia right now and how she posted this on their website about the nights they had been having lately:

Things have been really rough since our last posting. I can honestly say that since this all began there has been very little "it's not fair" going on in this household, but sometimes it is just too much. It turns out that the abdominal stress he was experiencing in the hospital was , at least in part, due to some kind of lower GI bug that has really knocked him down. I am not sure of the names we were given but it could be a side effect of the antibiotics he is taking or he could have picked it up somewhere else as it is highly contagious we are told. That's great news around here. Its effect has been a vicious sudden onset diarrhea made all the more complicated by the fact Jack struggles to get out of bed as it is and can't walk on his own. Around 1AM last night he attempted to do both and fell as he entered the bathroom spraining his foot a little and banging his knee. You've never heard such a cry-out. That led to a long night of panicky bathroom visits and Beth bore the brunt of it, as usual. Well, it's just not fair. There....I said it. Our good friend and podiatrist, Dr Greg Bordiuk made a housecall and Jack is fine. He likes Dr Bords a lot and I think it gave him some much-needed confidence having him visit and wrap his foot in an Ace Bandage. We have such good friends. So, onward we march during Jack's so-called "vacation" with new meds and the hope this will disappear quickly.

That was written by her husband, who does most of the postings on the site. And I don’t mean to turn this post into a sappy, be-thankful-for-what-you’ve-got kind of post, but I was feeling so worn out and tired this morning, after being defeated once again by Andrew’s wakefulness, that even as I use toothpicks to keep my eyes open today, I can’t help but think that it could be worse. Things could be worse. I know I’ve been blogging a lot lately about sick kids, house hunting, my job and all the shit that comes along with those things, but I’m really happy to be a mom. I think that is what has kept my spirits up. I’m just really happy to be a mom. Life is too short to fret. Andrew is not dying of Leukemia.

So I’m enjoying myself this Mother’s Day, but I don’t think I necessarily “deserve” anything. My kids didn’t ask to be born into the world and so I should really use my time to just enjoy them. I wanted them. That doesn’t make up for the grogginess from sleepless nights, or the endless questions from an inquisitive preschooler, or a beligirent child who won’t eat his peas, but after all that we have to remember that we wanted these kids. And whatever happens to them, we’re here to help them make it in the world.

Have a great Mother’s Day everyone!

Seven Facts and Habits

2007-05-08T16:55:00.000-05:00

So I’m really glad my buddy over at Mayberry Mom tagged me for this list of 7 habits or facts about me, because I’ve had total writer’s block this week. Left without anything to write about these days other than houses, sick kids, and job transfers, I will be happy to oblige with a silly and senseless post today. (No offense to those serious meme-ers out there). I’ve had a little blog-apathy lately, so this is a great excuse to steal some time today for a little dose of fun blogging.

Fact: I have had the same breakfast for over 20 years. Growing up in the best bagel region in the country, New Jersey, was purely the reason for my breakfast addiction: a sesame bagel with butter (and cream cheese if I want to spice it up a little, but I really prefer whipped cream cheese).

Habit: I bite my fingernails. Down to the quick. I can’t stand having nails on my fingertips, although I really like neatly pedicured toenails. I think I’ve had my fingernails painted maybe once in my life.

Fact: I’m addicted to HGTV. And I’m not sure if the addiction will go away once we’re all moved into the new house or not. When I was pregnant both times, I was addicted to every pregnancy show on Discovery Health network and TLC. As soon as I gave birth, those shows held absolutely no interest for me.

Habit: I’m a perfectionist. I really like my hair to be perfectly coifed, and I’m a maniac about spelling. It must be correct. There’s nothing that irritates me more than seeing a misspelled word in a business document. To me, it’s totally unacceptable. I know - I need to lighten up.

Fact: I hate to shop for clothes. Unless I have an unlimited budget, and in that case, I will buy whatever I think looks good. Since that doesn’t exist in my world, I’m always forced to decide between which piece of clothing I can buy because I can’t afford both, or which one goes with the rest of my wardrobe, etc. To me, those decisions make me anxious.

Habit: I don’t touch elevator buttons with my fingers. And I try to avoid touching doorknobs as well, by using my sleeve. I was in a McDonald’s once, a mother placed her child’s food directly on the table. I was with a couple of other people and mentioned how I was completely appalled and grossed out that someone would do that, they looked at me and asked, “What are you some kind of germophobe or something?” Well, so maybe I am a little uncomfortable with germs, but I think feeding your child food from a public table is not only unsanitary but dangerous.

Fact: I don’t cook. And I mean AT ALL. In fact, I don’t grocery shop either. I have no idea what a loaf of bread costs. If I were a contestant on The Price is Right, I would totally lose. All I can say is that it’s a good thing I married a husband who not only likes to cook, but is good at it, too, because if it were left up to me to feed the family we would be eating mac & cheese out a box everyday, because I wouldn’t know how to cook anything else and I wouldn’t want to go to grocery store.

Well, there you have it. If you feel like playing, I now officially tag Kathy, Allison, Christina, Laura, Heather, LA Daddy and CTD.

A Little Bit of This and A Little Bit of That

2007-05-01T09:23:00.000-05:00

A Little Bit of This
Some time ago, I joined an awesome web site called, Indie Bloggers. Lately, I’ve been a little remiss with submitted posts, because, well, I’ve hardly had time to keep up with my own damn blog. Which, I’m sure is obvious to my loyal readers. However, I submitted my post that I wrote about my house hunting adventures a long time ago, and thought it just got lost in submission hell. Well, lo and behold, it’s up on the site today! Ah, it’s nice to be syndicated.

So go check it out, it’s a great site. Lots of awesome writers are part of the group.

A Little Bit of That
Ever question religion? The power of prayer? Well, Friday, when Andrew was at his regular (not the urologist) checkup with his pediatrician, the Dr was concerned that he was not standing up and cruising the furniture yet. As were we, which was a topic we planned to discuss at the visit. Well, he ordered a hip X-ray, and recommended we enroll him in physical therapy with Columbus Children’s Hospital. So those of you who have been reading my blog regularly, and know all the ups and downs we’ve been living through with Andrew lately, you’re saying, “Wha? What else can go wrong with this little kid?” So Friday was not a good day for me. Because in addition to learning about all the deficiencies with my youngest son, I get a call from the speech therapist at my older son’s future school where he is enrolled in Kindergarten. They held an “evaluation” that Dave took him to last Thursday, and discovered he has articulation problems, is socially introverted, and has trouble with motor skills such as cutting and writing. My first response was that if his preschool teachers could hear anybody put the words “CJ” and “socially introverted” in the same sentence, they would surely think they were crazy. So we chalked that up to kindergarten jitters. The articulation problems came as no surprise, and we expected him to most likely visit a speech therapist in the fall, because he does stutter occasionally and has a lisp. And last but not least, the motor skills? Well, I’ve seen him hold a pair of scissors and he cuts just fine, and he writes his name and other words with ease. CJ has been in a very good preschool for the past 2 years, and I have no doubt he will excel in kindergarten, even before we address his speech problems. I appreciate the attentiveness on the part of the teachers at the school, but these days all this scrutiny seems a little like the professional way to “cover-your-ass”. But alas, the prayers from grandma seemed to work. At least someone is going to Church in this family. She was so upset about the possible physical problems with Andrew, she began to pray immediately for him. So for a kid who was just getting a hip X-ray on Saturday at noon, who then decides to start pulling himself up and standing a mere 6 hours later, the timing is a little suspicious. And I kid you not. Since mid-day Saturday he is already an old pro at pulling himself up and stands all the time now. Obviously the hip X-ray came back with no abnormalities, and perhaps it’s divine intervention. Personally, I think the trauma of the hip X-ray scared him into walking. He must have known that we mean business now, and that it’s time to make his debut. I was so excited!

A Little Bit of This
We are closing on the house on May 25th. I’m so freakin' excited I can hardly stand myself. We are literally tripping over ourselves and toys in the place we live in now, and in another strange coincidence, the place we rent now is starting to fall apart just in time. The hot water heater is leaking, when you turn on the outdoor faucet it leaks into the basement, the wood around the French doors leading to the backyard is literally rotting and falling off in pieces, and the holes in the screens are getting so big you can put your fist through them, hence the big wasp we discovered in the kids room one morning. I know it sounds like I live in the ghetto, but I really don’t, it’s just a 2 bedroom townhouse that has seen better days and we are busting at the seams. Personally, all I want at this point is my $500 security deposit back. So I plan to make it so clean you could eat off the floor. I would be surprised if our landlord screws us, because he’s a pretty nice guy, but after renting various dwellings over the past 15 years since college, nothing would surprise me. So it’s all about packing and cleaning in our household these days, while teaching a 15 month old to walk, while trying to entertain a 5 year old. It’s fun, fun, fun. Wanna come over?

A Little Bit of That
And finally, my transition here at work is in full swing. I’m transferring into the marketing group and it should be a much better fit for me and for my skills. What’s funny is that 4 years ago, when we had just moved to Columbus and I was beating down doors to find a job, I couldn’t get arrested in a marketing firm, and so I had to settle on the only job I could find that was nowhere near a match for my skills. Now that an exciting opportunity such as this has landed in my lap, it’s a little unbelievable. Lesson to the kids: perseverance and making friends with the right executives will get you far in life. The weight of providing for the family rests clearly on my shoulders, and I’m treading into uncertain waters, so it would be insincere of me to admit that I am not scared of something new, especially at a time when I just bought a house. And by the quotes I’m receiving for home insurance, I’m getting poorer and poorer by the minute…

Forget About the Labor Pains, It's All About the Boobs and "Me-Time"

2007-04-27T12:04:00.000-05:00

So today, as participants in this great online Baby Shower for Christina, Liz and Tammie, I’ve been assigned to give my full blown, best-ever, rockin’ good parenting ass-vice. Considering that the day before I gave birth to my first son 5 ½ years ago, I was hell bent on him never touching a drop of formula, getting anywhere near a pacifier, playing with nothing but hemp-weaved stuffed animals and wearing organic cotton onesies, I say this to the first-timer, Tammie: never say never. My biggest, earth shattering, hit me over the head, moment of parenting came soon after my first baby was born and he wanted to eat. After my rocky boobs were about to explode in a sorry-ass effort to try and breastfeed, I stared long and hard at the six pack of ready–made formula that landed on our doorstep unsolicited just days before in the mail. Somehow, the marketing experts at Procter and Gamble knew that soon after the baby was home I would cave, after a bumbling attempt to get my newborn baby to latch onto a crusty, bleeding nipple to no avail. Damn those marketers. And I continued to damn them as my hungry baby sucked every last drop from the tiny glass bottle of formula, and promptly drifted off to dreamland….finally. Damn those boobs. Damn those marketers. Wasn’t it all part of their master plan? (muhahahahaha).

But alas, I discovered what I called the best invention since sliced bread (or at least automatic windows): the breast pump! And so I duly pumped away and relieved my achy boobs every 3 hours. Thinking I had outsmarted those marketers at P&G, I felt satisfied in knowing that I at least was giving him my breast milk, if not in the traditional way. And this naïve, unsuspecting attitude when on for, I’d say, oh, about…..2 weeks. Until a funny thing happened. The baby needed more to eat. And more. And more. Lest these boobs became insufficient vendors to a growing baby. And we all know what comes next in this story. Back to the formula. And the whole breastfeeding towel was thrown in when he was about 2 ½ months old, as he was sucking gleefully on his pacifier, sleeping soundly in his mass-produced carter's pajamas, clutching his furry, mass-produced stuff animal.

So Tammie, my ass-vice is this: get your ass to a La Leche League meeting pronto if you have the slightest bit of problems breastfeeding. At least those tree hugging ladies can give you some options, and at the very least, if you still end up throwing in the towel, you can say you at least tried. No offense to the tree hugging ladies of La Leche, I love them. Because after my “trial run” with my first, I was a breastfeeding pro with my second after a few La Leche meetings, a hell of a lot of self-confidence, and no more guilt crap. After ridding myself of all that anxiety with my 2nd, I successfully breastfed him, in addition to pumping milk at work, for over 8 months.

As for Christina and Liz, since this is both of your second babies, and girls, unless your ultrasounds are wrong and your babies are suddenly born with a penis, I’m not quite sure what to say on the technical art of raising your 2nd baby, since I’m the mother of 2 boys. But, there are the logistics that go along with it, that whether you give birth to a girl, a boy or a puppy, that will surely be challenging. To be more exact, if your find yourself currently saying, “I have no time for anything,” you will quickly find out that these are the “good old days” and you will wonder what the heck you did with all your free time. As I’m sure you said that to yourself when your first was born, I hate to break it to you, but there will no longer be time that belongs to you anymore AT ALL. In fact, I’m fairly certain you will even not have anytime to think. I’m convinced I have lost several thousand brain cells since the birth of my 2nd child.

And in your undying quest for information, I give you answers to the most popular inquiry:
Does the 2nd kid get the shaft? Yes. See below.

Does my 2nd child have a baby book? Yes, but if anyone were to read it, they would think he just learned to roll over.

Do I know the exact date he got his first tooth? No, in fact, I’m not even sure which month.

Do I know when he spoke his first word? Are you kidding?

When did he first learn to crawl? Can't tell ya. In fact, he doesn't.

When did he first learn to walk? He doesn't. Which is all part of the major-league grand shaft of the 2nd because you just can't dedicate enough time to your 2nd that he/she needs. Which is why he is being put in physical therapy, as per doctors orders.

So what is the ass-vice in all this? Well, I’ve found having more than one child has been a juggling act, and actually each kid gets the shaft in some way. Both of my kids are struggling in their own ways and it seems there is never a hiatus. But, as scripted as it sounds, I couldn’t imagine life without my youngest son. Having a 2nd child was the best decision my husband and I ever made. It completed us.

This has been a long and exhausting post, I know, but get me going on motherhood and I have lots of things to say. Maybe I should start a blog.

Good luck, Ladies! You’re in my thoughts! Congratulations on this wonderful journey!

A New Baby Is Born

2007-04-24T11:29:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a final step in this whole process toward Andrew’s recovery: his catheter was removed. And while he was screaming bloody murder as me, Dave and the nurse, held him down so the doctor could remove it, he was visibly relieved when it came out. And by the time we returned home, we were parents to a brand new kid. His face literally brightened as his coloring improved, and he was exuberantly laughing with his brother for the rest of the day. Back to his old self. His transformation was so amazing and contrary, it makes you wonder if he was in constant pain for the last 10 days. I mean, obviously he had to have been uncomfortable, but I guess my mind didn’t allow me to think that he could be in constant pain. But all seems better with his mood, and the doctor gave him a clean bill of health. We return 2 months later for an additional follow up, and we can only hope that everything that has been repaired stays intact.

The only thing lately that has been bothersome for him and for us, is that he has been difficult in getting to bed at night for the last 3 nights. And up early in the morning. And restless in the middle of the night. I haven’t had much sleep over the last 10 days and now I’m getting even less. Dave thinks he’s “wired” on all this medication he’s been on. Since he feels comfortable now that the catheter is out, we’re not giving him anymore Tylenol or Motrin tonight. We’ve had to let him cry it out for the past 3 nights and it’s a practice that we’ve never really subscribed to. But it seemed like nothing was working. And even that’s not working 100% because after we get him to sleep, he’s either up 20 minutes later crying again, or up in the middle of the night. Either way, he ends up back in bed with me and Dave moves to the couch.

So between all that, our first house purchase, and a change at work, I’m feeling totally “spent”. I haven't written about this change at work purposefully because I’d like to keep my job, but suffice it to say that I am transferring jobs within the same company, just to a different group. I was approached by my manager about a month ago. The change is expected to take place within the next 2 weeks. It’s exciting, but I am sad about leaving my current job, as I have great colleagues, a fantastic manager, and have hardly had time to get my feet wet since I've only been in my current role since last October. It's indicative of the corporate world, and I get that, but there’s a lot of changes happening at once right now that life is on overdrive right now. The good news is that I have a job, and that there are good people in this company looking out for me. It will be a good move for me. It’s just the timing is bad.

But thank goodness for kids to lighten up the mood. After all this complaining, I’ll leave this post on a lighter note with a question posed to me by CJ while we were at a fancy restaurant for Easter brunch:

A Greek Orthodox priest entered the restaurant, in full dress, and CJ seemed taken aback by his sudden presence by staring at him as he walked across the room to meet his acquaintances at an accompanying table. Having never seen a person of the clergy outside of Church, he says to me, rather loudly if I might add, “Mama, what’s that ‘Godperson’ doing here?”

That’s what I get for skipping Easter service.

Report from Crankyville

2007-04-20T15:59:00.000-05:00

Not much new to report on Andrew. He is still pretty touch and go. I’m not getting much sleep this week, so blogging has been a challenge. He still seems to be quite uncomfortable off and on, and tosses and turns at night. We finally were greeted by a poopy diaper on Tuesday, thank God, as the poor little guy was quite miserable. Although he is still a little gassy and generally just not himself. One consequence to all this is that it has forced him to crawl. He was never a crawler and always “scooted” around on his tush. Since the operation, he immediately adapted to crawling and now rarely scoots. Which supports my theory about the walking, in that I think he will just one day walk when he’s good and ready, because obviously the ability to crawl has been in him all along, and he just didn’t exercise it. He’s a funny one. Definitely different than his people pleasing older brother. So that’s his update. It’s a daily thing that seems to change.

As for CJ, he wiped at the park today while riding his scooter, and is now nursing a skinned knee on the couch. He is anxiously awaiting my arrival home from work.

We’re also working on finalizing the details on the house. We had the inspection on Wednesday and the only outstanding issue is evidence of a leak in the ceiling of the hall closet, that is most likely originating from the master shower. As newbies to this whole house buying process, Dave and I are carefully planning our course of action. We think we’ve opted to request a remedy for this issue, or at least we’re going to ask the sellers to meet us halfway on the repair costs. I’m suspicious on the fact that the owner claims to have “forgotten” about it thus the reason for its mysterious exclusion on the property disclosure, because the seller’s agent claims that the seller states it has never been an issue in the 7 years he has lived there. Do I believe that? Um………….No. Although there is absolutely no way to prove whether he’s lying or not.

As for me, I was planning on going to a girl’s night out with all the local bloggers tonight. For selfish reasons, I really want to go. I have had to turn down the invitation since January due to myriad of issues that seem to keep coming up, and well, just for the fact that I want to get out and have some time to myself. But for motherhood reasons, I’m staying home. I’m generally cranky about it thanks to sleep deprivation, a menstrual cycle, and general feelings of being smothered. I want to crawl inside a bottle of wine right now and not come out until I’m good and drunk. Hopefully the ladies will have a toast on me while I get drunk on my couch watching Talk Soup after the kids (hopefully!) go to sleep.

Andrew's Update

2007-04-16T16:45:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the delay in posting a follow up to last Wednesday’s news about Andrew, but it’s been a whirlwind since last Thursday. From the doctor’s standpoint, the surgery was success. Andrew dealt with being separated from us in the hospital better than I expected, as I handed him over to the nurse who then took him back to the operating room. My eyes swelled with tears, but he didn’t even look back. Which was probably good.

After what seemed like an eternity, about 2.5 hours, were all reunited. Andrew looked all puffy and his voice was scratchy. He was extremely irritable and sleepy. After about 45 minutes in the recovery room, we all left for home, where he dozed on and off in my room for the rest of the day. It was very surreal to see him so sleepy and lethargic, as you usually cannot get him to sit still. He enjoyed a full day of Noggin, with Moose A. Moose and Zee.

The next day was OK, but then Saturday posed an unexpected set of issues: the removal of the bandage. Guys, you might want to skip this section of the post. Most get squeamish when we elaborate. Additionally, anyone else that has issues reading about poop and blood might as well skip this post, too.

As we unraveled the bandage, his skin was red, swollen, bruised, and bleeding. He obviously was screaming, and it took some time to console him. It was soon bedtime, and he took a bottle and feel asleep. But then he woke several times that night extremely uncomfortable and screaming. He likes to lay on his side and he couldn’t since he couldn't fold his one leg over the other since it rubbed against his penis, and he was very gassy. Which surprised me since he hardly had anything to eat over the past 2 days. So after a sleepless Saturday night, his constipation didn’t seem to get any better. He was able to get a little out the following day, but this poor kid is getting red in the face trying to get this bowel movement out and nothing. So last night was another cranky night. It took me a long time to get him asleep and then he was up at midnight, 4am, then 5am, but then finally fell asleep again in my arms by about 6am. But of course, it was about time for me to get up for work anyway, so I’ve pretty much been up off and on since about 4 am. And still no real poop.

So I was talking to a friend at work about this and she mentioned that codeine will constipate you. He has been prescribed Tylenol with codeine as a pain medication in addition to the antibiotic. I thought it was the antibiotic, but I’m beginning to agree that it’s the codeine. So as per the doctor, we’re switching to plain Tylenol. And prune juice. Hopefully that will work. It was the last thing I expected to encounter in all this. He seems less agitated with the actual surgical site and more agitated about being constipated.

So that’s the update. And in all this sleeplessness, and worry, and anxiety, we found out on Saturday that we got the house we put the bid on! We went with this one:

So much going on right now, with 2 completely different emotions about each. Before all this, I recently lost 5 pounds, in a recent attempt to start shedding the baby weight I have yet to lose. Just when my pants were starting to feel a little looser, I ate a big chicken sandwich and large French fries from McDonald’s today. I was starving. And stressed. Oh well, so much for the diet. But I don’t feel too guilty.