My fancypants morning coffees are much fancier in the pants than I'd dreamed. After one day of drinking perfectly nice moka-pot coffee, I was presented with a Mother's Day present of a real, actual, shiny espresso machine. Woo! Puts my little $10 coffee pot to shame. It still looks sweet sitting on the counter next to the shiny, shiny machine.
The kids are abed (cuddled up together in my room) and Husband is out for a night of poker. It is dark and quiet in the house, and I keep hearing neighbours outside, which makes me sit up straight and stiff the way dogs do when they hear a deer clear its throat four miles away. I am paranoid that one kid will wake and disturb the others, which is the downside of having the three of them sleep together. They were up late for the second night in a row (long weekend, yo!), and I want them to sleep well and not be total poops tomorrow.
Speaking of poops--and what a marvelous segue that is--J is terribly squirty from the bum this week. The poor kid shat down his legs three times today, and his little nethers are red and sore. I have been doing the grossest laundry imaginable, and there is no end in sight. I ran out to get Pedialyte today because he is shooting so much liquid out his rear that I am expecting him to shrivel up like a stinky little raisin soon. Fortunately, he thinks that stuff is nectar of the gods, so he must be at least reasonably hydrated now. He is miffed that I won't let him have dairy, but he is happy as heck to eat plain rice cakes. Small victories.
J's nasty sickbutt forced us to change plans on Friday night, since the littles were going to hang with Grandpa, and we decided not to inflict the liquid poo on a poor, defenceless, old man with a bad knee. N was performing his Happy Drummer dance at a Chinese song and dance night (they had a more refined name for the evening which I cannot currently recall), and we opted to leave the shorter attention spans at home. So N and I wolfed dinner and left his dad and brothers to run downtown to an arts school, where the theater was located. We pulled up to the (totally unfamiliar) building and I realized that nobody was there. Poor N was getting a bit worried, as we were already a few minutes late and we had no idea where we needed to be. We started jogging around the building, looking for signage or some other clue to point us in the right direction, when a stranger pulled her car over and told us she could show us where to go. I guess N's blue satin pants with gold sequins were a tip-off that we were looking for the theater (what, these old things?).
I love that lady--she told us to hop into her car, then drove us all the way around the block to a totally different building that I didn't even know was part of the school. I would never have found the place on my own! She dropped us right at the door, bless her, then toodled off to find parking. The serendipity train just kept right on rolling--now we were at the right building, but where the heck were we supposed to go once we got inside? N's classmate M arrived just then, and we tagged along and ran downstairs through a maze I couldn't have navigated without assistance. I was so, so grateful for the well-timed help. And I felt a little like a dolt for not knowing where we should be. Bad mom!
All's well that ends well; N was so blasted cute onstage, and enjoyed himself thoroughly. I was reminded again that I really need to get schooled in the Mandarin language, because I would have loved to understand even a bit of the emcee chitchat. We watched several acts after his performance was finished, and then we cut out to grab ice cream on the way home. He was floating all night. Next week he does it again at a different venue, and this time I will have DETAILS about precisely where we need to be and how to get there. And we will leave early.
And after cancelling the Grandpa and making Husband stay home, J's bum stayed explosionless all night. Ah well. (He made up for it today.)
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
Yadda Yadda
Lessee, last time I posted, I was recovering from a nasty flu. That's right about where I am this time too, only it was a much nastier version this time. (Swine flu? Doubtful.) Fortunately, nobody else in my family was felled.
My birthday boys had a lovely party together, and I am so happy that I didn't have to do two parties. It worked really well, and I loved watching them all run around like a pack of deranged, beautiful animals. The weather cooperated, and we managed to get a bit of outdoor playtime, trotting out the bouncy house again. (I'm sure the neighbours are sick to death of listening to the fan start up every time my kids are in the yard, but man, we've really gotten our money's worth out of that thing.) My trick cake (slices of pound cake with orangey icing in the middle, to look like grilled cheese sandwiches) fooled them all--unfortunately, they were so convinced that they politely declined to eat any. "No, it's really cake!" I told them. "Honest!" They remained dubious. Even the kids who politely agreed to the crazy sandwich-pusher ate the other stuff and left the cake. Lesson learned.
So now I am mother to a 3 year old, a 4 year old, and a 7 year old. Whoa. Those kids are practically senior citizens--how did they get so damn old? Their advanced ages are really apparent lately because I have been reacquainting myself with their baby photos. All of our photos from 2002 (the year of N's birth) through 2005 (the year after G was born) were stored in a computer that suddenly died one day. I was so worried that the photos would be irretrievable that I refused to address the issue for four years. The computer tower has been stored in the basement, waiting for the day that I would admit it was time to take it to a shop for data recovery. That day finally came last week, and despite my adding to the challenge by DROPPING IT ON THE CONCRETE as I struggled to carry it into the building, they saved every last photo and video. Bless those geeks, I could kiss every last one of them.
Since then, I have been obssessively clicking through photo after photo after video after photo of the most amazingly gorgeous babies in the history of the world. Seriously, I make cute kids. And oh, how I miss those chubby thighs! Not that I am really jonesing to gestate another one--but now they're all so large and gangly and ancient. I'm just a little wistful, is all. It really does go fast.
My dad popped in this week, delighting the boys beyond measure. Every night before bed, J would hug him, then give him the Serious Eyes and tell him sternly, "You don't go anywhere while I am sleeping, alright?" Apparently he was deeply scarred by a previous stealth exit by my dad, which none of us remember.
I did the morning school run today (usually Husband's jurisdiction), and slept later than I'd planned. When you don't set an alarm because you are always up by a certain time, you are pretty much guaranteed to sleep well past that certain time. Fortunately, the kids were on the ball and woke me in time to put on some pants and brush my teeth before we had to dash to school. And that's about as far as I got with making myself presentable today. No makeup, unwashed hair, no bra! Egads. And I went out three times, dropping off kids, picking them up, running errands...I feel a tiny bit rebellious, but also a bit like I just proved a point I already knew to be true. Like, surprise, the entire city didn't issue a collective gasp at the sight of me without makeup...though my greasy hair may have earned a sideways glance or two. Whatevs.
I have been knocking a few longstanding items off my to-do list, and it feels GOOD. Today I finally fixed the latch strike on the front door, which has been nonfunctional for, oh, about two years. The door wouldn't latch when we closed it, and we had to turn the bolt to keep it from blowing open with a breeze. My dad found a replacement and removed the old one, and then it stayed like that for several months. To be fair, it wouldn't have been a pleasant job to do in the dead of a harsh winter, what with the working in the open doorway. Today I locked the curious kitty in the bathroom and bashed a chisel into the doorframe for a while, and now there is a most satisfying click when the door is closed. Yay! Last week I installed blinds in two windows which have been nude for the five years we have lived here. Go me! I'm on a roll.
I have been coveting a home espresso machine lately, but simply cannot justify the cost. So today I impulsively bought something like this (mine has a glossy white enamel on the top half), all giddy to come home and try it out with the finely ground espresso I'd inadvertently bought instead of regular ol' coffee. Alas, I discovered that all that finely ground espresso had been used up, because we just dumped it into our regular ol' coffee maker anyway. Thwarted! By the time I picked up some more, it was too late to be indulging in caffeinated anything, so my taste test will have to be in the morning. Now I just need one of these, and I'll be set. Woohoo! Now I can feel all fancy-pants with my morning coffee. Can't wait!
My birthday boys had a lovely party together, and I am so happy that I didn't have to do two parties. It worked really well, and I loved watching them all run around like a pack of deranged, beautiful animals. The weather cooperated, and we managed to get a bit of outdoor playtime, trotting out the bouncy house again. (I'm sure the neighbours are sick to death of listening to the fan start up every time my kids are in the yard, but man, we've really gotten our money's worth out of that thing.) My trick cake (slices of pound cake with orangey icing in the middle, to look like grilled cheese sandwiches) fooled them all--unfortunately, they were so convinced that they politely declined to eat any. "No, it's really cake!" I told them. "Honest!" They remained dubious. Even the kids who politely agreed to the crazy sandwich-pusher ate the other stuff and left the cake. Lesson learned.
So now I am mother to a 3 year old, a 4 year old, and a 7 year old. Whoa. Those kids are practically senior citizens--how did they get so damn old? Their advanced ages are really apparent lately because I have been reacquainting myself with their baby photos. All of our photos from 2002 (the year of N's birth) through 2005 (the year after G was born) were stored in a computer that suddenly died one day. I was so worried that the photos would be irretrievable that I refused to address the issue for four years. The computer tower has been stored in the basement, waiting for the day that I would admit it was time to take it to a shop for data recovery. That day finally came last week, and despite my adding to the challenge by DROPPING IT ON THE CONCRETE as I struggled to carry it into the building, they saved every last photo and video. Bless those geeks, I could kiss every last one of them.
Since then, I have been obssessively clicking through photo after photo after video after photo of the most amazingly gorgeous babies in the history of the world. Seriously, I make cute kids. And oh, how I miss those chubby thighs! Not that I am really jonesing to gestate another one--but now they're all so large and gangly and ancient. I'm just a little wistful, is all. It really does go fast.
My dad popped in this week, delighting the boys beyond measure. Every night before bed, J would hug him, then give him the Serious Eyes and tell him sternly, "You don't go anywhere while I am sleeping, alright?" Apparently he was deeply scarred by a previous stealth exit by my dad, which none of us remember.
I did the morning school run today (usually Husband's jurisdiction), and slept later than I'd planned. When you don't set an alarm because you are always up by a certain time, you are pretty much guaranteed to sleep well past that certain time. Fortunately, the kids were on the ball and woke me in time to put on some pants and brush my teeth before we had to dash to school. And that's about as far as I got with making myself presentable today. No makeup, unwashed hair, no bra! Egads. And I went out three times, dropping off kids, picking them up, running errands...I feel a tiny bit rebellious, but also a bit like I just proved a point I already knew to be true. Like, surprise, the entire city didn't issue a collective gasp at the sight of me without makeup...though my greasy hair may have earned a sideways glance or two. Whatevs.
I have been knocking a few longstanding items off my to-do list, and it feels GOOD. Today I finally fixed the latch strike on the front door, which has been nonfunctional for, oh, about two years. The door wouldn't latch when we closed it, and we had to turn the bolt to keep it from blowing open with a breeze. My dad found a replacement and removed the old one, and then it stayed like that for several months. To be fair, it wouldn't have been a pleasant job to do in the dead of a harsh winter, what with the working in the open doorway. Today I locked the curious kitty in the bathroom and bashed a chisel into the doorframe for a while, and now there is a most satisfying click when the door is closed. Yay! Last week I installed blinds in two windows which have been nude for the five years we have lived here. Go me! I'm on a roll.
I have been coveting a home espresso machine lately, but simply cannot justify the cost. So today I impulsively bought something like this (mine has a glossy white enamel on the top half), all giddy to come home and try it out with the finely ground espresso I'd inadvertently bought instead of regular ol' coffee. Alas, I discovered that all that finely ground espresso had been used up, because we just dumped it into our regular ol' coffee maker anyway. Thwarted! By the time I picked up some more, it was too late to be indulging in caffeinated anything, so my taste test will have to be in the morning. Now I just need one of these, and I'll be set. Woohoo! Now I can feel all fancy-pants with my morning coffee. Can't wait!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Fever! In The Morning, Fever All Through The Night
I am cuddled up to a slightly fevery boy. I was going to write "baby," but that's not really correct anymore. Baby J is going to be 3 in less than a month. Ouch.
He and I have a rotten cold/flu/walking death thing, though I have to say he's gotten the worst of it. Last night he was so hot it was worrisome--fevers are not something that typically shake me, but this one was persistent in the face of Tylenol and Advil, and that had me sleeping very, very lightly. The fever broke sometime during the night, but by morning his little hand, still wrapped around mine as he slept, was aflame again. Now he's got a regular old garden-variety fever, held easily at bay with one medication at a time. But he still gets to sleep with mama so she can check his temperature, by way of a kiss on the forehead, several times through the night.
The bigs are watching Star Wars with daddy right now, even though it's long past bedtime. The day was turning into a bit of a nightmare, so naps were dispensed all round and evening was salvaged. But a nap at 4 pm means bedtime is out the window. For them, anyway--I will be nodding off shortly.
Birthday Mania is about to set in. I was starting to wonder how we could possibly cram two birthday parties into the same month (with at least three other parties to attend), when I asked N if he would mind having a joint party with J. I thought he might feel ripped off, but au contraire, he lit up. Two cakes? Sold! Now I kind of wish I'd had all three boys in the same month, so I could just have one party.
Of course, if I were going to map out due dates, I don't know that I'd choose April. Sure, it sounds lovely, but the reality of April here is slush and mud and exasperation at the snail's pace of spring. We've had a spate of deceptively sunny days, bright and beckoning, but packing a bone-chilling breeze. Today was purely gorgeous though, warm sunbeams (the better for napping in) and mild air, all promises of beautiful days to come.
Not that I should complain, we were lucky enough recently to pack up and spend two weeks in lovely Mexico. We even managed to time it so we missed a record-breaking cold snap. Yay, us! I was terribly nervous about travelling with the kids, but they were marvelous. They loved every minute of the trip, even the turbulence we flew through as we made our descent into Cancun. The gut-dropping lurches and bumps made them shriek and howl...with laughter. Their delight eased the tension, and more than one passenger smiled and relaxed a bit to hear them (myself included). I was honestly rather proud of them--and I loved that they found such joy in that bumpy ride.
We crammed a lot into that vacation. The kids had never seen the ocean before (except N, as a toddler), and while the bigs were sufficiently impressed, J was intimidated and preferred to play in the sand, a safe distance away from the waves. There was snorkelling and diving and swimming, in pools and cenotes as well as the ocean. We took a day trip back into Cancun to swim with dolphins. We saw monkeys (one even bit N--but didn't break the skin) and lizards galore, and the kids had their photo taken with a toucan. Daddy and the bigs snorkelled and saw sea turtles, while I waited with J on a glass-bottomed boat and tried not to hurl. A good time was had by all.
Back at the homestead, we are spring cleaning and purging, and finishing up some housey projects. I am getting ready to dismantle my sewing room, weed through all my supplies, and reassemble the space with some new (to me) furniture. I am so excited! I may even paint in there and really prettify it. I wish I had more space than that teensy little room--I have several vintage machines that are just sort of shoved in there, and that is a crime. They should be displayed, admired (even if only by me), and ready to use at a moment's notice. The most beautiful of all my machines is an old Singer, ca 1929 (I think), in a bentwood case, given to me by my grandmother. What a wonderful gift! Just thinking about it makes me want to call her to thank her again. She was so excited to give it, knowing I would really value it. Suddenly I am wishing I could give her a great big hug.
Phew, I think I have almost run out of stuff to say. No, not really, I'm just too tired to continue. Happily, J's forehead is nice and cool (smooch), so maybe I can sleep better tonight.
He and I have a rotten cold/flu/walking death thing, though I have to say he's gotten the worst of it. Last night he was so hot it was worrisome--fevers are not something that typically shake me, but this one was persistent in the face of Tylenol and Advil, and that had me sleeping very, very lightly. The fever broke sometime during the night, but by morning his little hand, still wrapped around mine as he slept, was aflame again. Now he's got a regular old garden-variety fever, held easily at bay with one medication at a time. But he still gets to sleep with mama so she can check his temperature, by way of a kiss on the forehead, several times through the night.
The bigs are watching Star Wars with daddy right now, even though it's long past bedtime. The day was turning into a bit of a nightmare, so naps were dispensed all round and evening was salvaged. But a nap at 4 pm means bedtime is out the window. For them, anyway--I will be nodding off shortly.
Birthday Mania is about to set in. I was starting to wonder how we could possibly cram two birthday parties into the same month (with at least three other parties to attend), when I asked N if he would mind having a joint party with J. I thought he might feel ripped off, but au contraire, he lit up. Two cakes? Sold! Now I kind of wish I'd had all three boys in the same month, so I could just have one party.
Of course, if I were going to map out due dates, I don't know that I'd choose April. Sure, it sounds lovely, but the reality of April here is slush and mud and exasperation at the snail's pace of spring. We've had a spate of deceptively sunny days, bright and beckoning, but packing a bone-chilling breeze. Today was purely gorgeous though, warm sunbeams (the better for napping in) and mild air, all promises of beautiful days to come.
Not that I should complain, we were lucky enough recently to pack up and spend two weeks in lovely Mexico. We even managed to time it so we missed a record-breaking cold snap. Yay, us! I was terribly nervous about travelling with the kids, but they were marvelous. They loved every minute of the trip, even the turbulence we flew through as we made our descent into Cancun. The gut-dropping lurches and bumps made them shriek and howl...with laughter. Their delight eased the tension, and more than one passenger smiled and relaxed a bit to hear them (myself included). I was honestly rather proud of them--and I loved that they found such joy in that bumpy ride.
We crammed a lot into that vacation. The kids had never seen the ocean before (except N, as a toddler), and while the bigs were sufficiently impressed, J was intimidated and preferred to play in the sand, a safe distance away from the waves. There was snorkelling and diving and swimming, in pools and cenotes as well as the ocean. We took a day trip back into Cancun to swim with dolphins. We saw monkeys (one even bit N--but didn't break the skin) and lizards galore, and the kids had their photo taken with a toucan. Daddy and the bigs snorkelled and saw sea turtles, while I waited with J on a glass-bottomed boat and tried not to hurl. A good time was had by all.
Back at the homestead, we are spring cleaning and purging, and finishing up some housey projects. I am getting ready to dismantle my sewing room, weed through all my supplies, and reassemble the space with some new (to me) furniture. I am so excited! I may even paint in there and really prettify it. I wish I had more space than that teensy little room--I have several vintage machines that are just sort of shoved in there, and that is a crime. They should be displayed, admired (even if only by me), and ready to use at a moment's notice. The most beautiful of all my machines is an old Singer, ca 1929 (I think), in a bentwood case, given to me by my grandmother. What a wonderful gift! Just thinking about it makes me want to call her to thank her again. She was so excited to give it, knowing I would really value it. Suddenly I am wishing I could give her a great big hug.
Phew, I think I have almost run out of stuff to say. No, not really, I'm just too tired to continue. Happily, J's forehead is nice and cool (smooch), so maybe I can sleep better tonight.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Right On Schedule
Here I am, ready for my post of the month. Honestly, I do try to get around to it more frequently. I am a better reader than writer.
I forgot to mention it last month, I gave in and we have another kitty. His name is Pip, and he's an utter turd. He is relentless in his quest to taste every single food-like substance in the house. I am constantly correcting/redirecting/shoving/bitchslapping/spraying water on him, and I still find evidence of his misdeeds when I get up in the morning or return from an outing. Not that he's stealthy--his jackassery is exercised regardless of my presence. But we like him anyway, annoying little bugger. Even Fran pulls her punches sometimes.
Baby J is still giving me heart attacks on a weekly basis, or thereabouts. Last week I stepped into N's classroom for a moment during the wildly overcrowded pandemonium of pick-up time, and when I stepped back out, J was gone. I barked at the big kids to staytheredon'tyoudaremoveamuscle, and swam upstream through the slow, slow, crush of children and backpacks. I wanted very badly to just pick up bodies and throw them out of my way, but I refrained. I got to the front door where my spidey sense told me he was headed, and I still didn't see him...until I looked through the doors. That's about when my heart stopped, because there he was, ACROSS THE STREET.
I'm not sure if he was looking for me, or just felt like being on the move, but I guess he'd just gone with the flow of people, through the doors which someone helpfully held open for him (they're too heavy for him to open himself), acting all casual and looking like he was with whoever was nearest. A mom from G's class was talking to him, since she knew who he belonged to and could see that I was nowhere in sight. He was looking a bit upset (because he'd been stopped? because a Strange Lady was talking to him? I don't know), but he seemed relieved to see me. I had a sickening surge of what if, and then a flood of relief, and then a brief, explosive flash of irrational rage at every single person around for letting him out of the building and not noticing that he was alone and not stopping him. Those jerks!
To subsequent pop-quizzes about Where You Should Go When You Can't Find Mama (correct answer: notoutdoors to the office, notoutdoors where Mama will come to collect you notoutdoors), J answers, "Out." I'm sorry sir, that is COMPLETELY FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE. I know I've said it before, but I really am going to keep that kid tied to me.
The last heart attack he gave me was when we were visiting friends and he trekked across the living room, up a step, through the dining room and into the kitchen while carrying their teeny, precious, floppy-necked, 8 week old baby. To his credit, he carried her very well, cradling her head nicely. She was comfortable and content, and he was terribly proud--until the moms noticed and flipped our wigs. Poor boy, he didn't know what he'd done wrong, just that something was very uncool. He stood, looking at the floor, bottom lip stuck wayyyyy out, while I hugged him and struggled (with minimal success) to not burst into tears in mortification and relief. That one made an impression on him, and now when he sees the baby, he volunteers, "I sit on couch to cuddle baby." Yes dear, that would be a good idea.
This week his sleep has inexplicably swung into Shittyville. We seem to have cycles of great sleep, and then phase into awful nights that leave us all hollow shells of our former selves. This time I am blaming a combination of new molars and a full moon. Whatever the reason, we found ourselves recently with J in our bed, which I don't actually mind--when he sleeps. When he wakes and grumbles about something or other every 15 minutes or so, it's not such a warm family scene. At about 3 am, he woke me to fearfully show me the "big scary thing up there." A tiny light from the laptop beside the bed was casting a large, dim shadow of the bedside lamp. I sleepily mumbled that it was okay, just a lamp, not scary, see? I groped around and jerked the lamp over a bit, to show him how the whole shadow thing worked, but he hadn't taken his terrified eyes off the shadow to watch what I was doing. What he saw was the huge, dark thing, which had been looming above him, suddenly lurch menacingly toward him. He loosed a bloodcurdling scream in my ear and dove into me, burying his face in my neck and clinging to me for dear life. We showed him how the shadow was made, and I extinguished the light, but he requested his own bed. Predictably, he was still too scared to sleep in his own bed, and eventually came back to ours...then wanted his own again...then ours, etc, etc. It was about two hours before we got back to sleep. Ugh.
I am ready to drop...looks like poor G and N will have to wait until next month. Sorry boys, you just haven't done anything spectacularly horrifying lately. And that is okay by me.
I forgot to mention it last month, I gave in and we have another kitty. His name is Pip, and he's an utter turd. He is relentless in his quest to taste every single food-like substance in the house. I am constantly correcting/redirecting/shoving/bitchslapping/spraying water on him, and I still find evidence of his misdeeds when I get up in the morning or return from an outing. Not that he's stealthy--his jackassery is exercised regardless of my presence. But we like him anyway, annoying little bugger. Even Fran pulls her punches sometimes.
Baby J is still giving me heart attacks on a weekly basis, or thereabouts. Last week I stepped into N's classroom for a moment during the wildly overcrowded pandemonium of pick-up time, and when I stepped back out, J was gone. I barked at the big kids to staytheredon'tyoudaremoveamuscle, and swam upstream through the slow, slow, crush of children and backpacks. I wanted very badly to just pick up bodies and throw them out of my way, but I refrained. I got to the front door where my spidey sense told me he was headed, and I still didn't see him...until I looked through the doors. That's about when my heart stopped, because there he was, ACROSS THE STREET.
I'm not sure if he was looking for me, or just felt like being on the move, but I guess he'd just gone with the flow of people, through the doors which someone helpfully held open for him (they're too heavy for him to open himself), acting all casual and looking like he was with whoever was nearest. A mom from G's class was talking to him, since she knew who he belonged to and could see that I was nowhere in sight. He was looking a bit upset (because he'd been stopped? because a Strange Lady was talking to him? I don't know), but he seemed relieved to see me. I had a sickening surge of what if, and then a flood of relief, and then a brief, explosive flash of irrational rage at every single person around for letting him out of the building and not noticing that he was alone and not stopping him. Those jerks!
To subsequent pop-quizzes about Where You Should Go When You Can't Find Mama (correct answer: notoutdoors to the office, notoutdoors where Mama will come to collect you notoutdoors), J answers, "Out." I'm sorry sir, that is COMPLETELY FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE. I know I've said it before, but I really am going to keep that kid tied to me.
The last heart attack he gave me was when we were visiting friends and he trekked across the living room, up a step, through the dining room and into the kitchen while carrying their teeny, precious, floppy-necked, 8 week old baby. To his credit, he carried her very well, cradling her head nicely. She was comfortable and content, and he was terribly proud--until the moms noticed and flipped our wigs. Poor boy, he didn't know what he'd done wrong, just that something was very uncool. He stood, looking at the floor, bottom lip stuck wayyyyy out, while I hugged him and struggled (with minimal success) to not burst into tears in mortification and relief. That one made an impression on him, and now when he sees the baby, he volunteers, "I sit on couch to cuddle baby." Yes dear, that would be a good idea.
This week his sleep has inexplicably swung into Shittyville. We seem to have cycles of great sleep, and then phase into awful nights that leave us all hollow shells of our former selves. This time I am blaming a combination of new molars and a full moon. Whatever the reason, we found ourselves recently with J in our bed, which I don't actually mind--when he sleeps. When he wakes and grumbles about something or other every 15 minutes or so, it's not such a warm family scene. At about 3 am, he woke me to fearfully show me the "big scary thing up there." A tiny light from the laptop beside the bed was casting a large, dim shadow of the bedside lamp. I sleepily mumbled that it was okay, just a lamp, not scary, see? I groped around and jerked the lamp over a bit, to show him how the whole shadow thing worked, but he hadn't taken his terrified eyes off the shadow to watch what I was doing. What he saw was the huge, dark thing, which had been looming above him, suddenly lurch menacingly toward him. He loosed a bloodcurdling scream in my ear and dove into me, burying his face in my neck and clinging to me for dear life. We showed him how the shadow was made, and I extinguished the light, but he requested his own bed. Predictably, he was still too scared to sleep in his own bed, and eventually came back to ours...then wanted his own again...then ours, etc, etc. It was about two hours before we got back to sleep. Ugh.
I am ready to drop...looks like poor G and N will have to wait until next month. Sorry boys, you just haven't done anything spectacularly horrifying lately. And that is okay by me.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Whoa
It has been a long, long time since I have posted. There are the usual reasons (too tired, too busy, too lazy, blah blah blah) and there really is no reason at all. I just didn't.
But I've been thinking about coming back to it for a time now, and I guess this relatively quiet moment while the kids are communing with Spongebob will do just fine. Also it means I can put off washing dishes for a little while.
Lessee, new news...um, back to school. Finally feels like we are getting back into the rhythm of school days again. It still sucks. I wish we could chill and sleep in and have playdates whenever we wanted. I realize that homeschooling would accomplish some of that, but there would be a lot less chilling involved if I were to take on schooling my kids. Besides, I would probably have a tough time keeping up with the Mandarin language instruction my kids get from their bilingual school. I am already feeling over my head just helping N with his Gr. 1 homework.
The first report card of the year came home today, and N is doing great. An attached note explained that it's too early in the year for them to accurately assign percentages to their progress, so they are using "excellent," "satisfactory," etc. N is doing "excellent" work across the board, except for music class, where he is "satisfactory." Apparently the kid can't carry a tune, which even my biased ears have noticed. But he enjoys it and works at it, which is really the point.
G doesn't get a progress report today, as his preschool is not part of the same school system. One of his teachers mentioned recently that he needs a little fine motor skill finessing, but I'm not overly concerned. He wrote a little story today (okay, it was one sentence, but it did run on quite a bit) and did all the lettering himself. He was terribly proud, as was I. He is turning into quite a little reader, sounding out words with no help. I love watching my kids turn into book lovers.
Baby J is a force to be reckoned with. He's fiercely independent, and can manage tasks I wouldn't dream of leaving to an average 2 year old. He seems to imagine that he's just as big as his brothers, and doesn't ever cut himself any slack when trying to keep up with them--and he usually doesn't fall behind.
I am trying to keep busybusybusy in the sweatshop (aka my sewing room) and make birthday and Christmas presents. I have made a couple of birthday presents lately, and have a slew of Christmas stuff waiting to come to fruition. Partly I am motivated by anticonsumerism, and partly by my love of making stuff. I'd rather be creating something than be shopping, so why not create a gift, rather than shop for it? I've tried in years past to be more crafty about holidays and presents, but this year seems easier somehow. Maybe it's because the kids are a little bigger and less needy?
I am fighting a cold. Thus far I have a scratchy throat and an overwhelming inertia. I have been drinking tea to beat the band, and megadosing on Vitamin C. My immune system has responded to the attacking bug by bitchslapping me with a giant canker sore inside my upper lip, and a weird, painful, inflamed tastebud on the tip of my tongue. I have spent the week wishing I could remove my entire mouth. I can't eat or talk without pain, and last night I foolishly tried to sip some orange juice (more Vitamin C! this will be good right?), which ended in tears. I think yesterday was the bottom, and I am sllllloooowwwwllllly climbing back up to normal mouth territory. Or I am deluding myself, and dinner tonight (lasagna, chock full of lovely, yummy, acidic death tomato sauce) will finish me off. Time will tell.
I am curious to see if I will resume my hectic once-monthly posting habits...
But I've been thinking about coming back to it for a time now, and I guess this relatively quiet moment while the kids are communing with Spongebob will do just fine. Also it means I can put off washing dishes for a little while.
Lessee, new news...um, back to school. Finally feels like we are getting back into the rhythm of school days again. It still sucks. I wish we could chill and sleep in and have playdates whenever we wanted. I realize that homeschooling would accomplish some of that, but there would be a lot less chilling involved if I were to take on schooling my kids. Besides, I would probably have a tough time keeping up with the Mandarin language instruction my kids get from their bilingual school. I am already feeling over my head just helping N with his Gr. 1 homework.
The first report card of the year came home today, and N is doing great. An attached note explained that it's too early in the year for them to accurately assign percentages to their progress, so they are using "excellent," "satisfactory," etc. N is doing "excellent" work across the board, except for music class, where he is "satisfactory." Apparently the kid can't carry a tune, which even my biased ears have noticed. But he enjoys it and works at it, which is really the point.
G doesn't get a progress report today, as his preschool is not part of the same school system. One of his teachers mentioned recently that he needs a little fine motor skill finessing, but I'm not overly concerned. He wrote a little story today (okay, it was one sentence, but it did run on quite a bit) and did all the lettering himself. He was terribly proud, as was I. He is turning into quite a little reader, sounding out words with no help. I love watching my kids turn into book lovers.
Baby J is a force to be reckoned with. He's fiercely independent, and can manage tasks I wouldn't dream of leaving to an average 2 year old. He seems to imagine that he's just as big as his brothers, and doesn't ever cut himself any slack when trying to keep up with them--and he usually doesn't fall behind.
I am trying to keep busybusybusy in the sweatshop (aka my sewing room) and make birthday and Christmas presents. I have made a couple of birthday presents lately, and have a slew of Christmas stuff waiting to come to fruition. Partly I am motivated by anticonsumerism, and partly by my love of making stuff. I'd rather be creating something than be shopping, so why not create a gift, rather than shop for it? I've tried in years past to be more crafty about holidays and presents, but this year seems easier somehow. Maybe it's because the kids are a little bigger and less needy?
I am fighting a cold. Thus far I have a scratchy throat and an overwhelming inertia. I have been drinking tea to beat the band, and megadosing on Vitamin C. My immune system has responded to the attacking bug by bitchslapping me with a giant canker sore inside my upper lip, and a weird, painful, inflamed tastebud on the tip of my tongue. I have spent the week wishing I could remove my entire mouth. I can't eat or talk without pain, and last night I foolishly tried to sip some orange juice (more Vitamin C! this will be good right?), which ended in tears. I think yesterday was the bottom, and I am sllllloooowwwwllllly climbing back up to normal mouth territory. Or I am deluding myself, and dinner tonight (lasagna, chock full of lovely, yummy, acidic death tomato sauce) will finish me off. Time will tell.
I am curious to see if I will resume my hectic once-monthly posting habits...
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Bloody Hell
I am flying solo this week. Husband is in Vegas, throwing money away at the World Series Of Poker. He was eliminated from his event in short order, so he entered another. He lasted longer in that one, but ultimately fell. BUT! His coworker/travel companion entered the same event (the first one) and just finished in second place! I'm impressed.
Meanwhile, back at the homestead, my first two days without parental backup were pretty heinous. I was absolutely stressed to the max, wigging out at everything and nothing, and the kids were being complete turds. I was completely mystified--why was I so easily pushed over the edge? Why did I feel so insane? Why was everything so awful? Why did my back hurt so horribly? Why was I so bloated and...OH. Oh, THAT. Just like last month! You'd think I'd learn.
Once the hormonally induced insanity abated, we got down to having a much better time together. My sister and her family came into town, and the kids played all day and night. Bedtime wasn't happening smoothly, so I gave up and let them run wild, rather than spend all evening beating my head against a wall for naught. It was close to midnight when I finally pushed them into bed, having come to the realization that they would never voluntarily lay down anywhere. They were out in about 7 seconds. "Let's hope they sleep in," we said, knowing very well that we had a snowball's chance in hell of getting any extra rest out of the deal. Sure enough, they were up bright and early this morning, running, running,jumping, thumping, running. The markers we'd left out last night ("Stop running for 5 minutes! Here, draw something.") were promptly put to good use, and when I blearily wandered into the kitchen this morning, I found four very colourful little boys. Good thing I only buy the washable markers.
After the cousins had moved on, I threw the big kids in the tub and got the baby to sleep. I told them to play in the tub as long as they liked--since the marker had stained a bit, I figured an extra-long soak couldn't hurt. The soaking part certainly didn't hurt, but the exit was a bit more painful. G slipped on his way out of the tub and bashed his chin on the toilet, opening an inch-long gash in his chin that bled impressively. So we went on a little family outing to the walk-in clinic, where we waited for an hour or so before a friendly nurse held his head steady to receive FOUR STITCHES! IN MY BABY'S FACE! WAAAH!
He was such a champ, truly. We warned him there would be a needle to make the area numb (and then we had to explain what "numb" meant), and we warned him that it was going to hurt, but of course he didn't have a clue that they were going to stab him directly in an open, throbbing wound and then pump it full of fluid. His eyes spilled huge tears, and his mouth stretched into a silent wail, but he stayed perfectly still for the doctor. He just squeezed my hand and trembled a bit. He was very still for the stitches as well, but after three, asked, "Can we be all done now?"
By the time we finished up and left, it was past our usual dinnertime, and we still had to stop at the pharmacy on the way home. I didn't want to make the kids wait for me to make a meal after we got home, so we stopped for burgers, hotdogs, and ice creams. "Well," said N delightedly, "This is a nice surprise!" G nodded his bandaged head in agreement. Happy to oblige, boys.
Watching my children spill their own blood always makes me a little more of a Mama Bear than usual, so all three of them are bunking with me tonight. This would work better if Baby J didn't insist on being perpendicular to everyone else. Ah well, I can handle a bit of foot in the face--it's better than a toilet.
Meanwhile, back at the homestead, my first two days without parental backup were pretty heinous. I was absolutely stressed to the max, wigging out at everything and nothing, and the kids were being complete turds. I was completely mystified--why was I so easily pushed over the edge? Why did I feel so insane? Why was everything so awful? Why did my back hurt so horribly? Why was I so bloated and...OH. Oh, THAT. Just like last month! You'd think I'd learn.
Once the hormonally induced insanity abated, we got down to having a much better time together. My sister and her family came into town, and the kids played all day and night. Bedtime wasn't happening smoothly, so I gave up and let them run wild, rather than spend all evening beating my head against a wall for naught. It was close to midnight when I finally pushed them into bed, having come to the realization that they would never voluntarily lay down anywhere. They were out in about 7 seconds. "Let's hope they sleep in," we said, knowing very well that we had a snowball's chance in hell of getting any extra rest out of the deal. Sure enough, they were up bright and early this morning, running, running,jumping, thumping, running. The markers we'd left out last night ("Stop running for 5 minutes! Here, draw something.") were promptly put to good use, and when I blearily wandered into the kitchen this morning, I found four very colourful little boys. Good thing I only buy the washable markers.
After the cousins had moved on, I threw the big kids in the tub and got the baby to sleep. I told them to play in the tub as long as they liked--since the marker had stained a bit, I figured an extra-long soak couldn't hurt. The soaking part certainly didn't hurt, but the exit was a bit more painful. G slipped on his way out of the tub and bashed his chin on the toilet, opening an inch-long gash in his chin that bled impressively. So we went on a little family outing to the walk-in clinic, where we waited for an hour or so before a friendly nurse held his head steady to receive FOUR STITCHES! IN MY BABY'S FACE! WAAAH!
He was such a champ, truly. We warned him there would be a needle to make the area numb (and then we had to explain what "numb" meant), and we warned him that it was going to hurt, but of course he didn't have a clue that they were going to stab him directly in an open, throbbing wound and then pump it full of fluid. His eyes spilled huge tears, and his mouth stretched into a silent wail, but he stayed perfectly still for the doctor. He just squeezed my hand and trembled a bit. He was very still for the stitches as well, but after three, asked, "Can we be all done now?"
By the time we finished up and left, it was past our usual dinnertime, and we still had to stop at the pharmacy on the way home. I didn't want to make the kids wait for me to make a meal after we got home, so we stopped for burgers, hotdogs, and ice creams. "Well," said N delightedly, "This is a nice surprise!" G nodded his bandaged head in agreement. Happy to oblige, boys.
Watching my children spill their own blood always makes me a little more of a Mama Bear than usual, so all three of them are bunking with me tonight. This would work better if Baby J didn't insist on being perpendicular to everyone else. Ah well, I can handle a bit of foot in the face--it's better than a toilet.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
No Logical Sequence
Still here, just having a hard time crystallizing thoughts into words. Extra hard to put those words together into sentences, and the paragraphs are killing me. Been so busy with general lifey stuff, no time to sit down and write about it. Blah blah, the usual excuses.
Baby J is trying to shorten my life span. This week he has been honing his skills as master escape artist. He has learned to open the front door (wonky latch made it easy once he learned the bolt), and has let himself out several times (there is a safety latch on the door now). He stepped over the sagging portion of our temporary fence in the backyard, and went exploring in the neighbour's yard. The same day, he was practicing his climbing on the front gate, which is not very high--I'm pretty sure if I'd let him continue, he'd have scaled it and run off somewhere in that direction as well. Today, while we were visiting friends, he let himself out their front door while I was in the bathroom (I believe he was looking for me outside, as I had just been in the front yard a few moments before), and I didn't even know he was outside until the friends' neighbour brought him back to the door--I thought he was downstairs with the other kids. Had a good little cry after that one. Henceforth, I shall be tying him onto my body at all times.
After the playdate that nearly resulted in my coming home with one less child than I'd gone out with, I went to a craft fair and got a little spendy. I bought myself some lovely, lovely soaps, some beautiful jewelry, and an excellent screenprinted t-shirt. I tried on the wearable stuff as soon as I got home, then stuck my face into the bag o' soap and breathed deeply. Happiness. The last time I went to this craft fair, I didn't spend very much at all, and was a little bummed out afterwards (non-buyer's remorse?), so this time I more than made up for it. And I am overjoyed at my fabulous new stuff! The moral of the story is, BUY FROM YOUR LOCAL CRAFT SHOW. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.
Once again, viewing craft show garments made me squawk indignantly (mentally) at the prices. $45 for a t-shirt? I could make that for 1/2 the price! But I never will because I am too busy/lazy/inept/whatever. But no, this time I am inspired. This summer, I will sew myself shirts! For realsies. I will update progress here...albeit sporadically, as my posting history is less than timely.
My last post, so long ago, was full of whinging about N's birthday party. Of course it went swimmingly. We had just enough kids show up to fill the (small) party room, and they had a great time cavorting on the gymnastic equipment. N received a ton of cheaply made plastic toys, and was genuinely thrilled with all of it. Crisis averted. Now G is DYING for his birthday to come. Poor kid, both his brothers have birthdays in the same month, he feels a little left out. I'll have to do something extra special for his day. Strippers?
Baby J is trying to shorten my life span. This week he has been honing his skills as master escape artist. He has learned to open the front door (wonky latch made it easy once he learned the bolt), and has let himself out several times (there is a safety latch on the door now). He stepped over the sagging portion of our temporary fence in the backyard, and went exploring in the neighbour's yard. The same day, he was practicing his climbing on the front gate, which is not very high--I'm pretty sure if I'd let him continue, he'd have scaled it and run off somewhere in that direction as well. Today, while we were visiting friends, he let himself out their front door while I was in the bathroom (I believe he was looking for me outside, as I had just been in the front yard a few moments before), and I didn't even know he was outside until the friends' neighbour brought him back to the door--I thought he was downstairs with the other kids. Had a good little cry after that one. Henceforth, I shall be tying him onto my body at all times.
After the playdate that nearly resulted in my coming home with one less child than I'd gone out with, I went to a craft fair and got a little spendy. I bought myself some lovely, lovely soaps, some beautiful jewelry, and an excellent screenprinted t-shirt. I tried on the wearable stuff as soon as I got home, then stuck my face into the bag o' soap and breathed deeply. Happiness. The last time I went to this craft fair, I didn't spend very much at all, and was a little bummed out afterwards (non-buyer's remorse?), so this time I more than made up for it. And I am overjoyed at my fabulous new stuff! The moral of the story is, BUY FROM YOUR LOCAL CRAFT SHOW. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.
Once again, viewing craft show garments made me squawk indignantly (mentally) at the prices. $45 for a t-shirt? I could make that for 1/2 the price! But I never will because I am too busy/lazy/inept/whatever. But no, this time I am inspired. This summer, I will sew myself shirts! For realsies. I will update progress here...albeit sporadically, as my posting history is less than timely.
My last post, so long ago, was full of whinging about N's birthday party. Of course it went swimmingly. We had just enough kids show up to fill the (small) party room, and they had a great time cavorting on the gymnastic equipment. N received a ton of cheaply made plastic toys, and was genuinely thrilled with all of it. Crisis averted. Now G is DYING for his birthday to come. Poor kid, both his brothers have birthdays in the same month, he feels a little left out. I'll have to do something extra special for his day. Strippers?
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