Disgusting.

Whenever I have doubts that I am doing anything right as a parent, a story like this one comes along to reassure me that I am not even remotely close to being handed the title of "World's Worst Mother."

The day after.

After the many weeks spent carefully maneuvering through the stores, chockablock with overwrought shoppers; the days of meticulously wrapping dozens of asymmetrical boxes; and the hours of cleaning, organizing and decorating, Christmas came and went in, well... a day.

At about 7:15 on Christmas morning, I heard four little feet come bounding down the stairs, letting out squeals of excitement when Santa's stopover was confirmed by the many packages under the tree. The kids headed for their stockings hanging from the mantel, making sure Santa remembered to fill them with candies and other goodies, then quickly returned to the tree to check out the tags on the boxes, trying to sort out whose present was whose. Next came the forethought of waking George and me, who felt as if we had just closed our eyes only moments ago. I could hear them whispering from the other room:

Abby: Ok, first we have to tiptoe into Mom and Dad's room. And then... HEY! LOOK GEORGIE! THIS ONE'S MINE!!! SEE IT HAS MY NAME ON IT, AND IT'S THE BIGGEST ONE!

Georgie: Yeah, Ab. I see... HEY! THIS ONE SAYS NORAH! WOW! I CAN READ THAT, SEE?!

A: Ok, alright. So when we get to their room, you wake Dad... No. Wait. I'll wake Dad, and you wake Mom, Ok?

G: Ok!

A: Remember. Tiptoe! And you wake Mommy! Ok?

G: Ok, Ab.

A: SHHHHH!

G: O-kay AB!!

(I don't know why she insisted on tiptoeing. Wasn't the point of coming in to wake us?)

After being pounced on repeatedly, I did my best to hold back the wired masses for 30 tortuous minutes, until pulling a groggy Norah out of her crib. And then the ravenous attack on the presents began!

***************
When every last gift was opened and admired, Abby said, "I got everything I wanted in my WHOLE life!" (Whew!)

Georgie was too busy playing with Norah's new toys to care about his shiny new playthings - which worked out well, because...

Norah, the 18 month old baby, kept throwing all of her toys back into the bags. She had no interest in her new puzzles, books, dolls, or other extravagant toys. Instead, she spent the morning clutching her new shirts and dresses. She tried on her new shoes, and admired her new embellished jeans. She ripped open the packs of socks and onsies, and tried on the new clips for her hair. I think Santa may need to rethink (and re-budget) his gifts for next year for this little fashion diva.

Today, I am spending my day collecting shreds of crumpled paper, cursing wire twist ties, and sorting micro-sized pieces and parts from god-knows what toy sets. As I work, I hear my children hard at play - figuring out their new games, breaking in new dolls and action figures, and laughing at each other while garbed in their new dress-up clothes! It is a reward to know that what I have been working for the last few tiresome weeks, has finally paid off tremendously. We should do this again. Maybe this time next year?

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, friends!

Abby's school held their annual Christmas pageant on Wednesday, and there was one song that was rather touching. After the show, and referring to this particular song, Abby asked me, "Hey Mom! Did you cry your eyes out when we sang that slow song?" I guess the teachers were going for this effect, and explained to the kids their motive. So when she asked, I had to laugh sentimentally, and of course tell her that I did cry my eyes out.

"In fact," I said to her, "There wasn't a dry eye in the house." I knew this was especially true for George, who did actually get a bit choked up during the performance.

She was quite pleased with herself, and with the rest of her class. They worked really hard on their show for weeks, and in the end, their efforts and many practices paid off. The show was a hit!

The pageant at school got my spirit jumping, and now the excitement of the next few days is staring to creep up on me. I figure by tonight, when the tree is finally standing and decorated, I will be acting like a 9 year old again, as I tend to regress every year at this time. The kids, of course, couldn't be more charged, and are getting a tad impatient with the wait.

I keep reminding them, "Only two (and a half) more days until Christmas. It really is almost here!" I remember the anticipation, and when I think back to the years when I was an exuberant child - tearing frantically into my gifts on that one magical morning of the year, hoping and praying for the perfect toy. The feelings of jubliance come right back again when I watch my own children's faces light up with curiosity and wonder to see the many packages under the tree, these packages that were absent when they headed up to bed the night before. I relate to their utter elation when they realize that Santa has visited their home to grant their every wish.

Since becoming a mother, Christmas has taken on a whole new meaning for me. It's not about life on the receiving end anymore; the meaning has, by far, surpassed that. It's more rewarding than I could ever imagined, to give these memories to my children and live these precious moments with them.

The holidays always add warmth during the coldest winter days. May you have everything and everyone you need to make this year the warmest Christmas and happiest New Year, and I hope this holiday season brings you health, happiness and great memories to cherish.

Merry Christmas!

A little less likely to panic.

So with only three more days, I have gotten a few things checked off my last-minute list.

1. Buy gifts for a "few" more people.
My naughty or nice list is checked off, finally. All gifts bought and tagged.

2. Find a Christmas tree.
My Christmas tree has been found. It is across the street in my in-laws' attic. (We are borrowing their artificial tree, since they are not using it this year.)

3. Stand and decorate this aforementioned tree we are still lacking.
Well, the tree is not standing, and is obviously not decorated, but I have located the decorations for the tree in the garage, and they are ready to be displayed. You would know, that in itself is an accomplishment, if you have ever seen my garage!

4. Wrap EVERY gift.
Every last one of gifts still needs to be wrapped. All 197 of them.

5. Oh, that reminds me. Buy wrapping paper, since I have none.
But atleast I now have wrapping paper.

6. Buy Christmas dresses for the girls.
I found an adorable dress for Norah. Still nothing for Abby. Maybe Georgie will open something appropriate on Christmas morning from his grandparents to change into, since I seem to have excluded him entirely from my wardrobe concerns.

7. Send Christmas cards. I think it will be a modest - not so modish - email greeting this year.
The holiday greetings have been emailed.


All in all, I'm in pretty good shape. I can totally do this!

Panicked? Nah, not yet anyway.

Christmas is upon me, and you too I suppose. Only 4 more days. Am I ready? Let's see. Off the top of my head, I still have to:

1. Buy gifts for a "few" more people. (That may be a little under-exaggerated.)

2. Find a Christmas tree.

3. Stand and decorate this aforementioned tree we are still lacking.

4. Wrap EVERY gift.

5. Oh, that reminds me. Buy wrapping paper, since I have none.

6. Buy Christmas dresses for the girls. (I think they may be celebrating the day "dress-casual.")

7. Send Christmas cards. I think it will be a modest - not so modish - email greeting this year.

Can I do it in 4 days? Hey, I'm early this year. I don't usually start my shopping until Christmas Eve, so I am way ahead of the game.

Love Thursday

It was five years ago today that George and I traveled to Maryland, early on a Friday morning, to get married. After getting engaged on Christmas Eve, the year before, we decided on this date, and a little chapel in Maryland to marry. We were joined by our parents and 9 month old Abby. The chapel was decorated for Christmas, and I remember being a nervously optimistic bride. It was a small, but beautiful ceremony (lasting only 15 minutes), during which we tried sitting Abby with her grandparents in front of the altar. But she cried, and squirmed, and put her hands to us pleadingly. Abby got her way as George held her through the entire ceremony. She became a part of our vows and a symbolic gesture as to the future of our growing family.

After lunch with our parents, we spent the rest of the weekend alone, a little further south in Annapolis. For our honeymoon, we shopped for Christmas gifts, admired the beautiful boats with their Christmas lights, and were treated to a memorable reception, on the night of our wedding, at a little local bar full of strangers, who bought us drinks and toasted our new life together.

After everything George and I have been through and accomplished together, sometimes it seems as if we've known each other for more than a lifetime, although we met only a little over eight years ago. Through every up and down, and all the crazy loops, we have learned and grown. We understand, more than ever, what our love is and how to keep it growing. Happy anniversary to us!

Good Vibrations

Last night George and I went out together, ahem, ALONE for the first time in months! Our evening started with a dynamic performance by The Beach Boys. The night was a pre-anniversary celebration, (though the tickets were actually George's birthday present from the kids and me). The show was amazing and we had so much fun, fun, fun! (I know. That was corny.) For close to two hours, we danced around and sang along to the chart-toppers of yesteryear like two caffeinated whirling dervishes. Our perfect end to a perfect evening included an abundance of badinage and sushi at a local Japanese restaurant.

It was refreshing to reconjoin, and once Christmas comes and goes, I hope we continue to familiarize ourselves more with this newly re-adopted concept of quality time.

There's Something About Mary Norah

Lights. Camera.

I figured I'd take a picture of my lights before another grinch tries to steal my Christmas. Sorry it's so small. I haven't the patience to re-upload a larger image. Cheers!

Merry Christmas, mischief makers.

I used up an entire day's worth of sunlight last week climbing ladders, banging nails and cursing out tangled strings of icicle lights. But, when the last of the lights were hung, I was quite proud to show off my work, even to passing strangers. After all, it was my first time hanging Christmas lights outside, and I think I did a rather fine job. In addition to the lights on the house, I also bought and assembled a 3-foot Animated Skiing Polar Bear. Every night the kids and I would get a kick out of him "cross country skiing" on the front lawn. Apparantly some other hooligans got a kick out of him too - when they kicked him apart all over my yard. He was in quite a few dented up pieces this morning and his lights were not in working order, but with the help of my FIL, he is, again, standing proud - even if he is still a bit lop-sided. This is just the thing to get me in the Christmas spirit. Just. The. Thing.

I had an entire post planned...

...but I seem to have forgotten everything, including the topic. Oh well. It's Friday. My brain is on vacation. Here's where it's gone:

Stress

1. How do you deal with stress? When I'm stressed I become an insomniac and usually a little snappy.
2. Do you have a favorite "comfort food" and what is it? Buttered white toast w/ cinnamon and lots of sugar.
3. Do you have a "comfort activity" and what is it? I like to take a hot shower and then curl up in bed w/ my favorite book or movie and my cinnamon toast.
4. What days depress you and why? Any day when more of me is expected than I can handle.
5. What days excite you and why? Easy, fun & relaxing days alone with the kids.

The tooth fairy is coming tonight!

My baby lost her first tooth today during her sleepover at Grandma's house! I haven't seen it for myself yet, but here's the picture they sent me! Her new saccharine smile makes me gushy and proud!

I'm not very much in the spirit.

How am I supposed to get in the mood to decorate for Christmas when Mother Nature has misplaced her seasons schedule? We have completely skipped over Winter, and have gone straight to Spring. I'm not really complaining because I certainly enjoy these beautiful days in the yard. I'm just saying - it's not beginning to look (or feel) a lot like Christmas at all.

Edited to add: Yes, I understand the consequences of such a wish. I know I will regret this wretched hex I have just put upon myself and the good people in my part of the country. When the temperatures drop below freezing and the snow has fallen up to our necks, I will mourn for this day.

I hate bad news.

I especially regret hearing bad news around the holidays. I was awake all last night with Abby because she was running a fever and coughing like a two-pack-a-day smoker. I kept her out of school today so we both slept in a bit this morning. I heard wailing sirens pass my house around 8 A.M., but I paid them no mind. With the fire house right down the street, I hear alarms and sirens hourly, and have learned to tune them out. When I got myself together later in the morning, I called my mother-in-law, who lives right across the street (cue the Everybody Loves Raymond theme). She told me that the sirens I heard were for the neighbor a few doors down. Apparently the man, who is close in age to my own husband, with children of his own, died in his sleep with no indication that there was anything wrong the night before. I imagine it was his wife who must have found him this morning, and I can't begin to conceptualize the grief that she and the rest of the family must be dealing with today.

It's going to be a sad Christmas for them this year, and this reminds me that - as much as I gripe and groan about sharing my king-sized bed with George, who snores like a chainsaw and kicks all the blankets off the bed on the coldest nights - to be thankful for such agaitation. I know it's such an old song, but I guess it really is true, that you never should go to bed angry. Not any one of us, no matter how young, are given the promise of the morning.

My proud hunter.

Apparently we will be mounting the head of this poor creature in our home once it has been properly preserved. Because my husband must feel that nothing is more comforting than lounging around on a Sunday morning being stared at by the glassy, lifeless eyes of a deer carcass.

Into the garbage chute, flyboy.

Well, today the kids and I were so productive. We each claimed our spot in the family room and played LEGO Star Wars II: The Original Trilogy on our new Xbox. Once we succeeded in each developing carpal tunnel syndrome, we put down the controllers and, continuing with our theme, watched the Original Star Wars Trilogy on DVD. It was true bliss.

In case you were wondering...

...I am still alive. I've just been a little lax on the blogfront. My creativity has gotten a bit stale, but I will back in the swing PDQ. Until then, become a certified sinkie with me :)

It's my potty and I'll cry if I want to.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate potty-training? Well I do. I detest it. I am angry with myself because in December, when Georgie was dry and accident free for four days, I did not throw away all his diapers. I had him exactly where I wanted him, but then Christmas came along with all its chaos. I strapped a diaper back on him to get us through the holidays, and thus the days of the potty have become a distant memory.

We're working on it again, but it's hard for me to be enthusiastic this time. I find myself counting from one to ninety-two in order to keep my cool when accidents arise. I am trying to stay on top of him to make sure he makes a trip to the bathroom at least once per hour, but if anyone knows me, I lose track of time like a doped rat. But I'd say the worst part of training a boy is - misfire.

Where is that nanny I've been relentlessly praying for? Now would be a fabulous time for her to magically appear. Any volunteers?

101 Random Things About Moi

1. I was born in Florida.
   
2. I was raised in New Jersey from the age of ten months.
   
3. I have not lived in NJ for almost 6 years now.
   
4. But when people ask me where I'm from, I still say New Jersey.
   
5. I have no relationship with my biological father.
   
6. I was adopted by my dad when I was a young child.
   
7. I detest when people refer to my biological father as my "real" dad. My REAL dad raised me.
   
   
8. I am afraid of the dark.
   
9. I am afraid of basements.
   
10. I have no sense of direction... I make a wrong turn and get lost constantly. Even in my own neighborhood.
    
11. I've been called "Charlie Brown" because of my habit of sticking out my tongue when I am concentrating really hard.
    
12. I only eat bite sized food in even numbers. (i.e. cereal, corn, m&m's, nuts, peas etc, etc, etc...)
    
13. I would die for my children.
    
14. More significantly, I would kill to protect them.
    
    
15. I used to smoke a lot of pot.
    
16. I still wonder what long-term effects that has had on me.
    
17. I quit smoking cigarettes in 2001.
    
18. I occasionally sneak a cigarette when no one is watching me.
    
19. I miss smoking. A lot.
    
20. I lost my virginity way too young. I regret, not the person, but the age.
    
21. I have only had sex with two men.
    
    
22. I have never cheated on anyone.
    
23. I have been cheated on.
    
24. I have been truly in love twice in my life.
    
25. I do not want to be cremated when I die.
    
26. I am a creature of habit, but I hate living in a routine.
    
27. Red wine gives me a nasty hangover.
    
28. But I drink it anyway.
    
    
29. Tequila makes me want to dance.
    
30. I hate to dance.
    
31. But I would love to learn ballroom dancing.
    
32. I am five foot seven.
    
33. I have never had a broken bone.
    
34. I am very reserved at first glance.
    
35. But when you get to know me I never shut up.
    
    
36. I don't like confrontation. I am unassertive. I don't stick up for myself very well.
    
37. I think that comes from being an only child.
    
38. I have never been arrested.
    
39. I have never had a cavity search.
    
40. I hope I never have a cavity search.
    
41. I hate people who do not use spell check.
    
42. I hate when people type LiKe tHiS.
    
    
43. Inconsiderate people piss me off.
    
44. I am one of the few people that misses high school.
    
45. I am left handed.
    
46. I sleep with my socks on.
    
47. I sleep with my underwear off.
    
48. I love to read.
    
49. I am very nosy.
    
    
50. I cannot sleep with the heater on.
    
51. I always sleep with the window open above my bed. Even in the winter.
    
52. I hate the smell of Pine-Sol.
    
53. I love the smell of sweat.
    
54. I pour milk on my Jello.
    
55. I like mustard and onions on my grilled cheese sandwiches.
    
56. I think coffee smells better than it tastes.
    
    
57. I have been pregnant four times.
    
58. I have three children.
    
59. I would love to have at least two more someday.
    
60. But I will probably never have more children because I can hardly afford the ones I have already.
    
61. I used to play the clarinet.
    
62. I wish I could play the piano.
    
63. I really want a tattoo.
    
    
64. I have ADD.
    
65. I stay up all night.
    
66. I have never had braces.
    
67. I love being alone.
    
68. I'm scared of turning thirty.
    
69. I'm even more scared of the alternative.
    
70. I love sleeping with my kids.
    
    
71. I have never worn glasses or contacts.
    
72. I am terrified to fly in a plane.
    
73. But I want to skydive someday.
    
74. I love airports.
    
75. People who drink "decaffeinated diet sodas" annoy me.
    
76. I am a great speller.
    
77. I won the spelling bee in the fourth grade.
    
    
78. I love romantic comedies.
    
79. I crave recognition when I work hard.
    
80. I want beautifully manicured nails.
    
81. I hate fake fingernails.
    
82. I love a tidy house.
    
83. I used to be a slob.
    
84. I still keep a few junk drawers to satisfy my inner pack-rat.
    
    
85. I am a giver by nature.
    
86. I'd love to go to the theatre more often.
    
87. I hate people who do not say "please" and "thank you."
    
88. I don't have a favorite color; I like them all, but I'm partial to green and purple. Pink too.
    
89. I love to cook.
    
90. I'd like to bake more often, but I'm lazy about it.
    
91. I love to sing, but I am horrible at it!
    
    
92. I love cloudy, rainy or snowy days.
    
93. I love going down the shore.
    
94. But I hate the beach.
    
95. I love lakes.
    
96. I adore Ireland.
    
97. I am a cat person. Dogs are entirely too needy.
    
98. Margaritas are my favorite alcoholic drink.
    
    
99. I hate being naked.
    
100. I am turned on by English accents.
     
101. I believe in soul mates, destiny, karma and kindred spirits.
     
     

I'm having an affair

So it's Wednesday. And have I lived up to my resolutions? Well..... not exactly. But I will start walking tomorrow. I swear. And as far as my attitude, I really am trying. There is one thing I am excited to report. The husband and I are really working on incorporating at least a few of the 25 bliss factors into our daily encounters with one another. It has made a gargantuan difference in the way that we interact and behave together. He has become the caring, considerate and romantic man I fell in love with seven years ago, and I have been trying to be more kind and patient with him in return. It's amazing that with a few simple changes, he and I are reshaping our once uninspired marriage into a blazing love affair.

"Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. The consciousness of loving and being loved bring a warmth and richness to life that nothing else can bring." ~Oscar Wilde

"I don't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what it is for me; love is knowing all about someone, and still wanting to be with them more than any other person, love is trusting them enough to tell them everything about yourself, including the things you might be ashamed of, love is feeling comfortable and safe with someone, but still getting weak knees when they walk into a room and smile at you."

"For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul." ~Judy Garland

"Just so you know, there's a space that only you can fill. Just so you know, I loved you then, I guess I always will."

The Silver Screen

1. What is your favorite movie? The Station Agent

2. What is the worst movie you have ever watched? Home on the Range

3. What was the last movie you saw in the theatre? Friends With Money

4. Sugared or salted popcorn? Or maybe butter? Extra butter & salt. I love Smartfood too. And as far as sweet, I make batches of caramel corn that you would lust over.

5. Movie theatre or DVD? Theatre

Resolution Number Two

Walking to school on clear days is my second spring resolution. For starters, not only would it help get me back into shape, but walking my daughter the six blocks to school really entails less aggravation than driving. Sure, walking takes a little longer, but it rescues me from the neverending in-and-out of the car, running around from door to door buckling and unbuckling three carseats. Over. And over. Again. And by the time I actually find the clearance to back my car out of the parking lot, with all of the other cars coming and going to pick up and drop off their kids, and the hundreds of feral jackanapes that are racing and playing tag behind the bumpers, I could have already walked two - maybe three - of the six blocks. So there. Resolution number two has been made, and publicly announced.

Here's hoping for many rainy days over the next month.

New Spring Resolution

I've decided I've become too cynical, irascible, bitter and hypercritical over the years. My new spring resolution is to become the serene, benevolent and sprightly lass I was - long before the straits of family life. Is there anyone who dares deride my determination? Because I'll kick your ass!

Norah

Angry Norah!


She did not want me to dry her hair!!


Sweet baby...


Happy Norah!

Married Life...

...The Bliss Factor

I am officially broke, but my sanity was worth every penny!

Ahhhhhhhhh! (That was a sigh of relief and contentment.) I just got home from my night out - which I needed so much more than I realized. It's only been two weeks since I was out last, but the past two weeks have been extremely stressful. I was actually going to cancel tonight due to the massive headache I was fighting all day, but I drugged myself (with Imitrex. Relax!). I rode it out, and wound up feeling 120% better in every sense - mentally, physically and emotionally. This entry is here to remind myself that the next time I want to bail on my plans because I'm not feeling high-spirited and social, I need to get my ass out the door anyway to eat, drink and be merry until I can't take it anymore!!

When I came home, I really missed the kids, so I peeked in on them all just to watch them sleep.

With Abby, it is almost always the same: I pulled her covers back over her, and swept the hair from her face. She woke for less than a moment, just long enough to smile sleepily at me and tell me that she missed me. "I'm happy you're home," she said in a dozy voice before rolling over and snuggling back into her pillow. She sighed contentedly, and instantly returned to a light snore. I kissed her on her cheek, and whispered that I was happy to be home with her too.

I didn't have to go very far to check on Georgie; he was asleep in Abby's room, in the bottom bunk. As usual he had flipped himself upside down in the bed - his feet on the pillow, and his head on the blankets at the foot of the bed that he had kicked and churned into a tangled mess. He didn't stir when I turned him around, careful not to bang both of our heads on the bunk above. I straightened his blankets, pulling them back over his shoulders. When I tucked his Spiderman figure back into his palm, I kissed his forehead, cool and damp with sweat, and I smiled to myself at how fond he is of his Spidey, and how he was probably dreaming of climbing walls, shooting webs, and defeating the bad guys as he slumbered, just like his favorite superhero.

When I looked in on Norah, I was surprised to see that she was still awake in her crib, and I was excited to pull her out and play with her a while. We stacked a few blocks and played a few songs on her piano, but when she started to rub her eyes and look drowsy, I changed her and made her some warm milk. I laid her in my bed and talked quietly with her while she drank her bottle and daintily patted my face with her pudgy little hands. After a while, I started to feel a little sleepy myself, so I placed her back in her own bed. I couldn't help but laugh when she wildly waved "bye-bye" to me with an immense grin on her face as I was closing her door.

I missed them all so much while I was out tonight, but I think I need to miss my kids every now and then to fully appreciate them and recharge. I think my foul mood streak is officially over (for now). I am now rejuvenated, relaxed, and more than ready to start fresh in the morning with my newly recharged batteries.

Frozen pits of hell.

So this morning... my deodorant was nowhere to be found. I dug through the closet in the bathroom, desperately hoping that I had a spare tube somewhere. I did not find exactly what I was looking for, but I found deodorant nonetheless. The aerosol spray kind. I hesitated. Lifted the first arm. Cringed. Sprayed. And screamed! I think this type of torture was invented by the Nazis. It was like applying liquid nitrogen directly to my pits. Anyone who sees me today should thank me. I sprayed my second arm, solely for the innocent bystanders that I may come in close contact with today.

You're welcome.

Returning from so far away...

I'm not sure where this blog will take me tonight. I'm not really in the mood to write anything, but since it has been more than two weeks since I've written a "real" entry, I felt obligated.

Lately, my world has felt like it's been flipped upside down. I can't pinpoint the moment of the turn or even what factors played into the flash point, and because of this, I haven't been quite sure how to make it right again. I've been moody and on edge. I can't catch a breath. I'm tired. Easily antagonized. I've been stuck in reverse and I'm sorry to all who have felt my misery.

I have tried to conceal my low spirits, but there are certain people in my life who cannot be fooled.

My children, especially, have a way of sensing my moods, even if I am three rooms away and my back is turned towards them. They put their feelers out and know when not to argue together. And when not to jump on one another. They know, without my asking, whether or not I need their company or if I'd rather be left alone. And, if needed, they walk away and do something that they hope will please me. Sometimes simply by cleaning up their toys, or other times, gently catering to their baby sister to keep her from fussing.

Tonight, after figuring out that I was low-spirited, Georgie held my ruthful face in his hands. The same hands that I usually know to be ruinous, heavy and grimy; tonight were slow-moving, warm and gentle. He seemed to be surveying my mood, reading my face. He pulled our foreheads together and sighed. Our eyes met and he smiled. A sympathetic, and sad smile that said, "I know where you are, and I desperately want to bring you back to me." He kissed me softly on my nose, and climbed into my lap. We stayed this way, quiet and motionless, for quite some time. I could feel his chest rise and fall against mine; I heard his breath, calm and steady; I felt his fingers running slowly over the back of my neck. Within minutes, my breathing pace matched his and I could feel my heart rate and blood pressure fall to a less threatening level. I was suddenly sedated and sleepy.

I wrapped my arms tight around him, closed my eyes, and thanked my lucky stars for all that I have been blessed with in life. My feelings of hopelessness quickly faded, and I felt foolish that I sometimes get myself so down when I have so much to be grateful for.

My children show me everything that is good in this world. They have an incontestable gift to put a smile on my heavy lips. They take away my heartache. They are the lights that guide me home.

Feeling Lucky

This is indeed pretty hilarious

Go to www.google.com

Type in the word failure

Instead of clicking "Google Search," click "I'm Feeling Lucky."

:)

Spread the word before the people at Google "fix" it.

Seven types of sex?

Recent research shows that there are, in fact, seven kinds of sex:

1. Smurf Sex: This kind of sex happens when you first meet someone and you both have sex until you are blue in the face.
   
   
2. Kitchen Sex: This is when you have been with your partner for a short time and you are so horny you will have sex anywhere, even in the kitchen.
   
   
3. Bedroom Sex: This is when you have been with your partner for a long time. Your sex has gotten routine and you usually have sex only in your bedroom.
   
   
4. Hallway Sex: This is when you have been with your partner for too long. When you pass each other in the hallway you both say "screw you."
   
   
5. Religious Sex: This means you get Nun in the morning, Nun in the afternoon and Nun at night.
   
   
6. Courtroom Sex: This is when you cannot stand your wife any more. She takes you to court and screws you in front of everyone
   
   
7. Social Security Sex: You get a little each month. But not enough to live on.

Parents: shave your heads!

I have had a touch of blogger's block lately. Is it because my life has become dull? No, that's definitely not the case. Could it be that I have not had any time for the computer? Actually, no. I have logged in at least twice a day and stared at the blank entry form only to find that, still, nothing will come through from my brain to my fingertips.

But today, my friends, you are in luck; I will treat you all to a tale called The Strangled Toe

Friday morning I was prepping Norah for her bath. As I was inspecting her nails for length, I came across a very swollen and red middle toe on her right foot. When I looked closer, I saw that it was sliced completely open so that when she curled her toes, this particular toe would split apart, whereas the top of the digit would appear to be totally separated from the bottom. I called Dr. Bob right away, and he told us to come in at 11 o'clock for an appointment.

After carefully examining her wound, he gave it a name: hair tourniquet syndrome. I had never heard of such a thing before and was amazed and nauseous at the same time. He spread the two sections of her toe apart, searching for whatever had cut off her circulation, but whatever it was had either worked it's way out, dissolved, or was still in there, but not visible. He said I needed to keep close watch on the color of her toe. If it turned blue or purple, she needed to be rushed to the ER immediately to prevent autoamputation. Eek!! And here's where it gets gross: if the swelling does not go down by tomorrow, I am to apply Nair® into the wound to dissolve the thread or hair that was causing the lack of blood flow. Okay, so has anyone ever used Nair®? Have you ever felt the burning sensation from the product on healthy skin? The directions on the bottle clearly read: "DO NOT USE ON IRRITATED, SUNBURNED, INFLAMED, OR BROKEN SKIN." Exactly. So keep your fingers and toes crossed that the swelling goes down, or else I will be swabbing depilatories into her perferated toe in the morning. (*shudder*) I guess it's better than amputation, which is our only other option at that point.

So please, as a public service message to all parents: shave your heads, and dispose of all hair immdeiately!!!

A Full Moon In The Morning

I was cleaning the house this morning, my regular Saturday routine, and the kids were in the living room 'taking pictures' with Georgie's View-Master®. Every now and then, they would command me to turn around and say "Cheese!" They'd snap my 'picture,' look into the camera to see if the shot 'came out okay,' and run away to take more photos. I smiled as I wiped down the countertops, listening to them giggle because, I thought at least, that they were enjoying taking pictures of each other's silly grins with their new camera. Well, I was half right. They were indeed hysterical over the photos that they were each posing for, but it was not silly faces they found amusing. Georgie was the acting photographer, and Abby was the stand-in model. Apparently she is working on her future career as a butt-double for movies, because when I went in the living room to check on them, there was Georgie yelling, "Say cheese!" and Abby was turned around, pulling down her underwear so that her brother could capture her full moon on film.

Needless to say, I am extremely proud.

Bad Mother, You Say?

We're skipping school again today. Eesh. "Bad mother," some would say. "Lazy" would be the word many others might choose. Irresponsible, even. But I don't care. I'm enjoying what little time I have left with my daughter before she starts kindergarten next year. Then she will be in school all day, every day, for thirteen years. And then college. And then she will be gone, moved away to live her own life, but I will have precious memories from days like this, when we "played hooky" for no other reason but to enjoy the beautiful day outside together. So call me whatever you'd like, but I tend to think of myself as a great mother. One who realizes the importance of an education, but who also sees the crucial need to slow down and enjoy the simple moments with my children before they are children no longer.

It's amazing outside; I hope you all can get out and enjoy it too!

Friday

It's gorgeous outside today. I think I'll clean up the house a bit and then take the kids outside to blow off steam. I am starting something new today... The Friday Five (this one's old, I know, but they haven't posted a new one this week yet):

1. Do you wear perfume or cologne? Yes. My favorite is Lovely by SJ Parker
   
   
2. What brand or kind of soap do you use? Dove
   
   
3. Do you use anything to scent your home (candles, potpourri, scented oils, etc.)? All of the above. I love cinnamon (or any spicy) scented fragrance.
   
   
4. What's your favorite scent on a member of the gender to which you're attracted? No scent in particular. I love a man fresh out of the shower; all of the products he has just used blend together into one very clean scent.
   
   
5. Have you ever tried aromatherapy? If so, describe your experience; if not, do you think it works? I've used aromatherapy bath salts and candles... I guess they work. When I am in the bath, the whole experience works together to relax me, so I'm not sure if I can give credit soley to the scents.

What I Really Think

List ten things you want to say to people you know but you never will, for whatever reason. Don’t say who they are. Use each person only once.

1. I hate your husband.
   
2. I ignore every one of your phone calls. I cringe when your number shows up on the caller ID. I plan to never call you back.
   
3. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, I love you still and I always will.
   
4. I've given you so much advice about your problem and still, you do nothing. I don't want to hear about it anymore. Figure it out for yourself. I'm done listening to you complain.
   
5. I hate who you've become because of him.
   
6. You are beautiful, absolutely brilliant and astonishingly articulate. I'd like to be more like you and less like me sometimes.
   
7. I love you to pieces but your children are exceptionally rude little brats, and I find it torturesome to be around them.
   
8. You are a narrow-minded arrogant fuck.
   
9. I am sick of your opinions. You are an isolant know-it-all and that is the reason no one wants to be around you.
   
10. I miss you.
    

Okay, I need to do this at least once a week; that was invigorating. Now, if only I had the backbone to say these things out loud, then I would truly be liberated.

Sleep Quest

My mood has been despicable since awaking this morning. My children have been in trouble for truly contemptible behavior, such as: laughing and playing nicely together (can you believe the nerve of them?).

Ok, so just to be clear, it is not typical for me to be so foul-mannered with my kids, but given that my sleep pattern the last few nights has been erratic and incomplete, I cannot tolerate even the most ordinary of situations. Last night Norah, for some reason, was awake screaming all night long. No matter what I tried she would not settle down unless I walked with her. Finally around seven-o-clock this morning, I laid with her in my bed, and she finally started to doze. So did I. At the exact moment that Norah's and my eyes began to close, two wide-eyed and animated children came bounding down the stairs and pounced onto my pillows, screaming "Good morning, Mom!! Good morning, Norah!!"

Now I knew that their behavior was justified since they had, you know, slept 10 hours at this point already, but my behavior was justified too, I believe, since I was critically lacking rest. I barked at them, "Be quiet, put your heads down and watch cartoons while I take a quick nap with Norah! Do NOT make a sound! Got it?!"

My cowed children slowly eased themselves under the covers, watching each other with astoundment. I comforted Norah until she fell back to sleep, and then I too closed my eyes... for four minutes. Apparently, it took less than five minutes for their fear of my conniption to be appeased, and then Abby and Georgie were back onto their feet, jumping all over my bed. And me.

Norah started wailing and my jaw immediately clenched. Abby and Georgie were banished to 'the step' until I could calm down. I was so tired at this point that my whole body was in shut-down mode. My brain was foggy and off-course. My muscles ached. I walked over to where my bewildered children awaited their release from time-out, and I asked them if we could try again. I explained to them that Norah had kept me awake the night before, and that we were both in need of a quick nap. I promised them both large-scale rewards if they would let me sleep for an hour. They seemed eager to please, so the four of us snuggled contentedly back into my bed. Norah was sacked out in less than three minutes. I was snoring in less than five. Abby and Georgie were whispering to each other and giggling quietly in less than seven. My eyes flew open and I could feel my blood pressure rising. When I look back on it, I know that they were just bored, and they were truly trying to be respectful of Norah and me as best as a five and two-year-old could, but at that moment I was too exhausted to be reasonable. They were immediately transported back to the step where I irately lectured them. I short-sightedly scolded them on topics such as courtesy and respect, obedience and good behavior, and a considerable amount of material that had no relation to the situation at hand. When I stopped for a breath and saw the frightened looks in my children's eyes, I saw that I was unrestrained and out of line. I quickly apologized to them for my impetuous behavior and excused myself to the bathroom. After washing my face and counting backwards from sixty, I took the walk of shame to apologize (again).

I am still on edge, but now, at least, I have stopped slamming doors and tantrumming. I am more aware of my short-fuse and can control it better when it begins to rise up. Norah just went down for a nap (finally) in her crib, and I think that if I keep Abby home from school today so that I have a better chance of uninterrupted sleep while Georgie naps, this evil quintessence will die out, and Abby and Georgie will have their mom back. Here's hoping.

Waypost

I found Norah crying in her crib tonight because she pulled herself up and couldn't figure out how to sit back down. Oh man, we are in for it now!

"Good Grief." There's An Oxymoron If I've Ever Heard One.

Okay, so I thought long and hard and decided that honesty was probably the best policy. As much as it broke my heart to break hers, I told Abby the truth about Strawberry. She cried harder than I expected. She will "be sad forever," she said. After all, that guinea pig was her pet - no one else's - and no one loved her like Abby did. She was the one who would always feed her and play with her, and make plans to take her to school for show-and-tell, and enter her into the "Guinea Pig Show." But instead of planning a 'guinea pig circus' like she was last week, today she is changing all of the happy faces to sad on all of the old pictures she drew of her and Strawberry together, and is deciding on what to say at her 'memorial' tonight.

She is trying to be brave and continue on with her day as best as her sorrow will allow, but every now and then, out of nowhere, she stops whatever she is doing and begins to sob quietly to herself. Georgie has been truly empathetic, bringing her tissues, hugs, and words of comfort as she cries. But I know that, no matter how much solace she decides to accept, inside her little heart she will always ache for her first, and cherished little critter.


Goodbye, Strawberry. You certainly were a cute little thing.

Her Bestest Friend

Our little friend Strawberry 'paid a visit to the doctor last night.' Or so we told Abby. She will be there for a few days. Or atleast until I can find a resembling replacement. I thought about telling Abby the truth, but when she came downstairs this morning, I heard this:

"Moooooooooooommmmmy!!!! My guinea pig is..... (sob) GONE!! Where is Strawberry?! I looked everywhere, but she's not in my room! The cage and everything disappeared!! Where is she mom?! Did daddy sell her? I neeeeeeed her... she's my (sob, sniffle) bestest frieeend!!"

As she continued to sob, I incoherently tried to explain, "She, uh.... well, you see, Abby. Um... the truth is that.... Strawberry was, oh god. Abby, don't be upset but.... meh."

While getting puzzled and frantic looks from my five year old, I continued, "Strawberry-had-to-go-to-the-doctor!" I blurted. "She'll be home in just a few short days. Really. She will. I, I prom..." I cleared my throat and tried again. "Ahem... I promise!"

Abby quickly wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, and asked, "She's at the vet? Oh! I thought Daddy taked her back to the store!! Can I call her on the phone? How many days until she gets home again? I can't wait until she's all better!"

Before I was able to explain that she could not, in fact, call the guinea pig on the phone, she ran off to tell Georgie that Strawberry needed her shots and that she would be home when she was not 'tagious' anymore.

So there it is. One dead guinea pig, and one solemn promise that, somehow, she will return in three days or less. I just hope I can find her guinea twin soon enough.

Does anyone know what time it is?

I am here to inform you that I am still awake; Georgie is too. He took a six hour nap today, so it is with good reason that he should not be tired. I, however, cannot rationalize my own indisposition to sleep. Does anyone remember when staying up this late was the objective for the night? When there was chemical stimulation to make the goal worthwhile? When sleep was..... um........ oh, for chuff's sake!! I can't remember where the hell I was going with this. I accept that I have begun to rattle on, and so here concludes my quick and scintillating tale of how I am spending my Saturday night (or Sunday morning I guess, technically). Here's to dreaming of far off places.

I've been voted 'Most Unproductive Wife'

Today has turned out to be another one of "those days." Again. The kind of day that has drowned away any feelings of motivation, and my last reserves of patience have been cleaned out. The house is a disgrace, laundry is piled up to my neck, and so far I have wasted the day staring at the wall. So here I sit, posting a fruitless blog. I have nothing to say; my wit has forsaken me. I think I'll stop here and rent a movie, but first I will leave you with this:

Finding drunks in a bar -- what are the chances?

Spiderman-iac

I took Abby to Kyle's birthday party tonight. When the movie ended, the last of the pizza and cake had been eaten, and the games had all been played, Abby and I made our way back to the car, party bags in hand, where I noticed that I had three missed calls from home on my cell. (I had kept the phone in the car to charge, since the battery was beyond dead.) A small wave of panic washed over me since George doesn't usually ring my cell when I'm out unless it's pretty important. I returned George's call on the way home and learned that Georgie had come down with a fever and had not eaten anything all night. In fact, he had stayed curled up in my bed most of the time Abby and I had been gone, which is rare for him especially since his Mom-Mom and Pop-Pop were over for a visit. When Abby and I walked in the door, I pulled Georgie onto my lap, and sure enough, he was hot as hell from head to toe. As Abby told him all about the party, his head hung towards the floor. I figured he must have felt pretty bad, so I coaxed him into chewing a Motrin to bring the fever down quickly. After he reluctantly swallowed his medicine, I asked him about his night, but he would not speak a word to me, or anyone else, and continued to stare down at his feet. I asked George if he had been this quiet all night, but he said, "No, actually. He was crying about a Spiderman car for the first hour or so after you left. He cried so much, I wonder if that's what made him sick."

"Spiderman car?" I asked. "What Spiderman car, Georgie?"

"Tile." Georgie responded miserably, but finally with a little interest in conversing.

"Tile? What are you talking about - tile?"

"Tiii-ile! Ti-ile!" he whined, and so I continued asking him insane questions about floor tiles and game tiles until I figured out that he was not, in fact, referring to tiles after all. He was talking about Kyle (clearly pronounced "tile" in two-year old dialect) and the Spiderman car that Abby had bought for the party.

"You want the Spiderman car that Abby bought for Kyle?" I asked him.

"Yes," he said. "Tile's bider-man tar. Not Tile's. Mine. My bider-man."

I should have foreseen this "spidey-envy" when we were at the toy store buying Spiderman toys. I should have realized that I could never get away with bringing a Spiderman product into our house and then back out again for any reason. Who was I kidding? I have the boy who does not waste time pretending to be Spiderman, but instead has convinced himself, and truly does believe, that he is in fact the superhero himself. I reassured Georgie that first thing in the morning, I would take him to the store to buy him his very own Spiderman car. The instant this promise was made to him, his temperature instantly plummeted back to 98.6°, his mood elevated significantly, and he has been happily coloring at the table (in his Spiderman coloring book, wearing his Spiderman pajamas) with his sister for over an hour, chattering away the entire time (about, who else, Spiderman).

I've been sitting and thinking about what new illness Georgie may be coming down with, but then I started to wonder: is Georgie really falling ill with the flu, or could it be that he is literally sick without Spiderman? And was it really the Motrin that brought down his fever so rapidly, or was it the promise of a new "bider-man tar" that healed him?

I think that we are, without a doubt, dealing with a Spidermaniac.

I'm glad I can finally look back on this day and laugh.

Feelin' irie

We are leaving in the morning for the cruise! Good luck weathering the cold... and just remember that while you all are bundling up in your winter best, I will be cruising the Caribbean, lounging by the pool in the hot sun, drinking rum runners while exotic and topless Caribbean gentlemen are fanning me, rubbing my feet and feeding me strawberries!! Ha!

Send me any bon voyage messages by tonight, otherwise, I will "see" you all in a week!

~M

Beauty at a price

I was beginning to feel like a bedraggled and beaten down mother this week, so I purblindly headed over to the mall with the three kids, Natalie and Carolynn for an eyebrow wax and a haircut. The sadist inside of me thanked me for the waxing, the narcissist inside of me thanked me for the much-needed primping, and the voice of sanity inside of me pleaded for me to never again get so desperate for beauty that I ever again take my children along for my monthly regimen.

Norah rippled the waters when she became bored with her view from the stroller and decided my lap was a much better spot to lounge. I became convinced that my hair was going to look like it was trimmed with pinking shears due to the spasmodic jolting and bouncing from the restless infant on my lap. Norah wound up covered in clippings, the bristles sticking out from her onsie looked like cactus needles, and I'm not so sure that the one's clenched in her tiny fists made for as tasty a snack as she first thought. Nonetheless, her mouth was full of tiny snippings of hairs by the time the stylist was finished cutting.

Meanwhile, Georgie, unhappy with the wait and with the fact that he could not share my lap with Norah, proceeded to wedge himself under a stylist's chair (unoccupied, thankfully) and scream indefeasibly for 35 minutes. Lucky for everyone in a 50-foot radius, his tantrum began just as my stylist started to blowdry my hair which mostly drowned out his wailing.

Abby did her best to pacify everyone in anyway she knew how, but unfortunately for her and for my conscience, due to the constant humiliation from the other two, I started to lose my patience with all of the cute things she was doing to try to cheer up her petulant siblings. She spent the remainder of our visit to the salon sitting in the waiting area looking thoroughly disheartened.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of torture in the stylist's chair, I shelled out $50 for perfectly arched brows, a fresh coiffure, and my release from the barber-chair prison so that I could once again intimidate the ungrateful little nippers back into reality. I quickly apologized to everyone in the salon and to Abby for losing my cool with her, and promised her a harmonious attempt at dinner at her favorite restaurant. 

I reluctantly shuffled everyone over to McDonald's where the three little darlings did, in fact, straighten their acts and represent themselves as perfectly polished and well-bred scions through the entire meal.

Whoever said that beauty does not come at a price was obviously never a mother.

M.