Bah-Humbug Halloween

I am not feeling the spirit of Halloween, if there is such a thing. Frankly, I just want to sit in front of the TV with some almond amaretto coffee and watch the live GhostHunters episode (my guilty pleasure TV show) and get some laundry done. There is so much dirty laundry in my house right now - I was pondering it this morning (not washing it, merely pondering it) and I just had to wonder if there are maybe some people who are living in the apartment when we aren't home, leaving their dirty clothes behind for me to wash and using all the towels. Two adults, a six-year old and a baby just can't produce that much dirty laundry, they just can't. Or maybe they can and I've just fallen behind. Either way, I have a marathon laundry session coming my way.

So since I am such a Halloween grinch, I thought I would share this delicious selection of clever baby costumes. There you go. I dig the walrus, but the flamingo is pretty darned cute, too.

I hate Florida weather. Two nights ago we had a frost, and for a couple of days the weather was cooler during the day, but it seems we are right back to our normal autumn, or at least what passes for it here in FL. At night the temperature drops into the low forties. I have been wandering around the house at night doing my chores in a sweatshirt, and have actually turned the heater on a couple of mornings. So you have low forties at night, but yesterday afternoon while running errands the temperature was 77. Ridiculous. You can't dress for that kind of temperature change, unless you layer to the extreme. And it's impossible to dress Bella for school, too. If I put her in tights, a long sleeved shirt and a sweater she gets a heat stroke during recess, but if I send her in socks and a short-sleeved shirt she freezes all morning long. And on PE days it's just ridiculous, but I'm not alone in my weather frustration - all the children in Bella's class look like little blue Grimaces because they have on their PE shorts and short sleeved PE shirts underneath their winter sweatpants and sweatshirts. Bulky little things.

I had a brief Bubba-related scare this afternoon. My husband works overnights, from 8PM to 8AM. When he came home from work this morning (it's his birthday today) he said he wanted to spend some time with Bubba, and that he would watch him for a while instead of me taking him to my MIL's house like I usually do before work. I agreed, but reluctantly - Brian is almost a narcoleptic (understandably so) when he has worked all night, and can fall into a deep and heavy sleep without warning from which he is very difficult to rouse. On the drive to work I had a nagging feeling that I shouldn't have left Bubba, but I pushed it aside.

So around 1PM I called my MIL's house (since that is where my husband said he was going to go shortly after I left for work) and not only were they not there, she had not heard from them. Hmm. I felt uncomfortable - all I could picture was Brian snoozing on the couch while Bubba explored the contents of the cabinet where I keep all my toxic chemical cleaning supplies. I called the house, and there was no answer. I called Brian's cell phone, and there was no answer. I was feeling rather panicky. And it isn't because I don't trust Brian, that's not the case at all, but I didn't trust the circumstances.

So the lovely people I work with agreed to hold it down so I could drive the fifteen minutes home. And it was an anguished drive, I have to tell you. In typical maternal style, all I could think about and picture was all the things that could have gone wrong if Brian was asleep and Bubba was wandering around the house. I drove too fast, made a few rude gestures, and used some very bad words, but after what seemed an eternally long drive I made it to the house, pulled sideways into a (handicap!) parking spot and was out of the car before the engine had shut off completely.

I unlocked the door and burst into the house, and there was....nothing. No one. No sign of Bubba of Brian. So I explored a little further and heard the shower running. And there they were, in the master bathroom. Brian was showering, and Bubba was standing on his tippy-toes and sucking on, of all things, the toilet flush handle. When I walked around the corner Bubba froze, then removed the handle from his mouth and smiled. Then he flushed the toilet, and kept flushing the toilet. After about four flushes, Brian (who was not aware of my presence at this point) said, "Hey buddy, the water is getting cold, stop it" which, as you all know, makes any eight-month old baby stop doing something as fun as flushing a toilet. Riiiiight. So Bubba kept flushing, and Brian kept saying, "Hey!".

I finally spoke up, and Brian stuck his head out of the shower and asked what I was doing there. How do you answer that? Because I couldn't just wave it off and airily reply, "Oh, I didn't trust you to not fall asleep while you were watching the baby so I rushed over here at top speed because I was fairly certain Bubba was drinking Lysol or maybe the bathroom cleaner". No, that is not a good thing to say. So I just said I was on my lunch break and thought I would swing by. Whew. I felt bad, but Bubba is just at that age where he gets into everything, and he's starting to climb now, and you just can't leave him alone for a second, much less fall asleep and leave him to his own devices for an extended period of time.

Today is going to be crazy. I get off work at 4PM, and then I have to:

• Pick up Bella from after school care
• Stop by the store and pick up Brian's cake
• Run to my house and pick up the kids' costumes and Brian's present
• Go to my MIL's house for dinner and trick or treating

Sigh. Ghost Hunters, coffee and laundry are still pretty appealing, but alas, such is life and motherhood. Happy Halloween!

Be careful what you wish for: Bubba speaks! and speaks and speaks and speaks

Bubba has said "da-da" twice now. Both times he was not prompted, he just sort of blurted it out and then promptly forgot about it and no amount of encouragement can make him say it again. I had actually been a little concerned lately because Bubba hasn't really been a vocal baby. Crying, yes, he can cry like a crying machine, but he didn't coo, or gurgle or make any of those noises that babies make. He will grunt at you, if you have food that he wants (which is pretty much anything), but the grunting has been it so far. I wasn't dwelling on the idea that he wasn't vocalizing, but it was in the back of my mind.

Then two days ago, while eating dinner at my mother-in-law's house, Bubba said "Ma-ma". My heart leapt. I was thrilled. And he hasn't stopped saying it, either. My concerns were for naught, because the boy won't stop chattering now. He crawls around the house chanting, "Ma-ma, ma-ma, ma-ma". When he's not actually saying it, he's mouthing it. He also added his own name to the mix: "Bu-ba".

Yes, we really do call him Bubba. I have felt the need to defend myself for that since a woman at school asked me if I thought I was perpetuating or encouraging the stereotype of the dumb southerner by calling my son Bubba. Um, no, it's just his nickname. But I digress:

So now he crawls around saying, "Ma-ma, Bu-ba, Ma-ma, Bu-ba" over and over. He has started yelling (mostly at his sister), shrieking from the sheer joy of playing with barbecue tongs (his favorite toy, currently), and doing all the giggling and cooing and such. It's charming.

Yesterday he was following me around the kitchen while I was trying to prepare a bottle. He was, as he usually is when he's waiting for a bottle, absolutely certain of the fact that he will never be fed again. The theatrics he lays on are impressive - moaning, and big tears, and laying on his stomach and rubbing his face into the floor from sheer agonizing hunger. Now he has added to his repertoire the forlorn and pitiful "ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma....." on and on into perpetuity. Constantly, until he has what he wants. Not quite as charming. But still good to hear.

Bella has also added to her vocabulary and has been busy peppering her conversations with some lovely new expletives. The other day she asked her brother: "What the hell do you want?". Not charming at all, I have to say. We are working on it. She's really been pushing her limits at home lately. I don't know what is going on. She is regularly being belligerent, and blatantly not listening, she is talking back.....I am rapidly approaching my wit's end (which is not a long trip). Last night I asked her to do something to which she replied, "No, I'm not doing that". I was astonished and replied with a well-thought "What?", at which point she fled the room. I tracked her down - she ran away from me again and into another room, and I asked her what was going on and she laughed, she laughed and said, "Nothing, why? What? Geez." I had to take a moment to regroup. This is not my well-behaved daughter.

So now I'm having to rethink my parenting policies. Not that I have them listed - there's no parenting mission statement in my house, although maybe there should be. I have really been thinking about this a lot lately and I think I know what I need to do.

I feel so overwhelmed, a lot of the time. And there are so many people who have so much more going on than I do. The librarian at Bella's school? She has 9 children, the youngest of whom (twins!) are in kindergarten. She is the school librarian, and she used to be parish education coordinator until the Salesian Sisters came into the parish. And did I mention that she has 9 kids? I have two children, a part-time job (30 hours a week) and an apartment the size of a closet and I am having trouble coping? I bet she would just laugh. Well, probably not, because she is too nice to laugh, but I bet she would want to laugh.

I'm just in a rough patch. Things will smooth over. They have to! Tomorrow is another day, and all that. And if I say it enough, I might just believe it. Happy weekend, all!

Am I Wrong? (Because I usually am)

I e-mailed my cousin in Pennsylvania the other day, mentioning that we were going to be visiting family in Virginia around Easter and that I wanted to try and get together with her and her family. I mentioned that we were planning on trying to hit up an amusement park during our visit, and she kindly reminded me that amusement parks aren't open year-round up there. I was shocked.

I am such a Florida girl - the only thing that closes for the winter down here are water parks. And lo and behold, I checked the web and both big parks are closed while we are there. And the amusement park was the only thing we had really planned to do while we were up there, so I decided to scope out a plan 'B' and discovered that there is an aquarium right there in town, and a really cool children's museum nearby. And of course colonial Williamsburg (which I love), and we could go to Washington, DC. I am so excited now! I have requested visitor's guides from Williamsburg and Washington, so we can look through them and Bella can get excited.

I really want Bella to enjoy this trip. I am ashamed to say she has never been on a real vacation like this, ever, in her entire life. This will be our first real vacation as a family. She has taken little weekend trips here and there, to Tampa to visit family and to Louisiana to visit family and so on, but never with my husband and I - always with her Auntie or Maw-Maw & Paw-Paw. She has never done anything like this, and I am very excited for her, and for us. She has been to the museums and little attractions here in town, and that's really about it, as far as all that goes. This is a chance for her to see things she has never seen before, things that will be new and exciting and educational and a chance to make memories that she can hold on to for the rest of her life. Bubba, too, of course, but at 14 months he won't remember much of the trip.

There is a slight problem, though. My sister-in-law, who is currently pregnant and due to give birth around Valentine's Day, feels a little out of sorts about us making plans for these day trips (except DC - we would probably stay overnight there, for one night). When I mentioned to her the places we are interested in going while we are up there she reminded me that we will be up there to see her and her husband and their new baby.

I get that, I do, but I don't think she has anything to worry about - we will all be spending plenty of time together. I'm actually thinking of her and her husband, too, and the fact that they might appreciate having some time without all of us in their house, especially since they will have a (roughly) six week old baby. There will be six adults and three children aged 6 and under all in the same house. And those nine people will be crammed into a two bedroom, one bathroom apartment. For eight days. So yes, I think getting out and about and doing something fun will be necessary to stay sane.

When I mentioned the above to her she said that there is all kinds of shopping in the area that we could do. I'm sorry, I'm not going to ride in a car for fifteen hours with my kids, my husband, and my in-laws to go to a mall (unless it's the National Mall in DC). I can shop at home. I said something about them coming with us on one, or more, or all of these day trips - after all, 6-week old babies are portable. But my in-laws are old-school catholics that don't believe in taking the baby out (further than the mall, apparently) before it's been baptized and they aren't certain if the baby will be baptized by that point.

This is her first baby, though, so I don't think she gets it yet. How your life is completely and utterly turned upside-down, no matter how much you think you know what to expect. How your hormones are still supercharged even six weeks after giving birth. How difficult daily life will be with a new baby and six extra people, making noise and making messes. How after two days she will be ready for us to leave, possibly almost desperate for us to leave. Wasn't it Benjamin Franklin that said something about "guests, like fish, smell after three days"? That Ben Franklin was a smart guy, he knew what he was talking about. I'm shooting for a nice blend of activity and leisure. Enough time spent around the house to relax, and enough time spent out of the house to see the sights, burn off some energy and hopefully avoid killing each other.

So am I wrong? I mean, seriously, am I? I'm not looking for validation here, I genuinely want to know if I'm possibly overlooking my SIL's feelings and selfishly forging ahead with a plan that makes them feel like we don't want to spend time with them, or that we won't spend time with them. My goodness, we will be getting there on Friday afternoon and will be together all of Easter weekend, with no plans but church, so that is a great start right there. And by the time Monday rolls around I have a feeling she will agree that we all need to get out. But I don't want to make her feel bad. We'll see.

Hooray for the fair!

The fair is in town, and my sister was kind enough to take the kids on Saturday. A good time was had by all. Except for my poor nephew, whom I shall call 'Mac' for internet purposes. Bless his heart, he is an only child and has been for all of his nine years, so he is having to adjust to having Bella around. They could be mistaken for siblings, the way they argue and pick at each other. Anyway, here are a couple of pictures thanks to my generous and thoughful big sister:

Bella and Mac waiting for the elephant ride to start. He's such a good cousin, however reluctantly.


Bella in the 'Ag-Venture' area making a jack-o-lantern out of radish seeds and mulch.

Bubba making a move for the mountain dew (that's actually diet pepsi). Nice try, fella.

Need some advice

I was a little early for my teacher conference yesterday, and while I was standing in the hall waiting a little head poked up into the glass window of the room door - one of my girl scouts was inside while her parents were doing their conference. So I checked the hallway to make sure there was no else around, and then proceeded to engage in a lively bob-and-weave peekaboo game with her and her younger brother. We were making faces at each other and giggling when I realized I was busted - not only were the adults in the classroom laughing at us, there was a woman who had quietly emerged from the office and into the hallway and was standing near me, amused. "Are you encouraging them?" She asked me, laughing. "I'm keeping them busy." I answered defensively. Oops.

So Bella's teacher and I sat down, and once settled in (she said a pleasant hello, I returned her greeting and apologized for the copious amounts of smelly baby spit-up on my shirt that I didn't have time to change) she got right to the point. She said that Bella is academically strong, indeed there are no areas that she is having problems in. She said the Bella talks too much, and she does need to work on that, but her talking is almost charming because she's generally so excited about what they are learning that she just wants to talk about it. She said Bella finds so much joy in everything that she is one of those children that reminds her why she got into teaching in the first place. Bella is well behaved, well mannered, works well with others, and has a good heart and a sweet disposition. We talked about the items I was concerned with - some homework issues and whatnot. My mind was put at ease, and I feel better about the whole situation now. However....

There is still a problem, and that problem is at home. Specifically, with me, and how she behaves with me. It's funny - I have had a nagging feeling lately that there was some sort of problem, and there was, but not at school. And a very good friend of mine had the courage and the honesty to tell me that Bella doesn't take me seriously, doesn't listen to me, and doesn't do what I tell her to do. It was hard to hear but at the same time was good to hear, in fact I think it was what I needed to hear because it made me acknowledge what has been a growing problem. So we will just have to buckle down and tighten up at home. I think I've been a little adrift and over my head from a combination of things - managing an increasingly mobile Bubba, my increase in hours at work, losing my sister-in-law, my husband's schedule change....and I have let things get away from me. I've been taking the path of least resistance, and it shows in her behavior at home. Now, at school she's apparently great. And when we were out at dinner the other night, a couple stopped us to tell us how well-behaved our children are (I actually had to look around to make sure they were talking to us). So at least I know she can be good, she just chooses not to be at home.

So I need some advice. I don't care what you are - a parent, a teacher, a cat lover, whatever, chime in: I need to know how I can curb her talking at school. Earlier this year we tried a long-term plan, telling her we would check back in with her teacher in two weeks and if she had not stopped talking too much that she would lose her Wii privileges. It apparently worked - when we checked back in with her teacher, her teacher said that Bella had made an improvement. Should I just do the same thing again? Any other suggestions? Because I will drive her teacher crazy writing her notes every two weeks asking about her talking. I'm out of ideas. Any thoughts?

They do exist! A picture of the kids

My sister took this on her fancy-schmancy new blackberry, and while it's not the best picture of Bella, it is photographic evidence that my children are real and not just a figment of my imagination:

Because if I was going to make up some imaginary children, they would be far better behaved. I.E, they wouldn't lick everything, they would shower, they would listen, they wouldn't pick the first choice on multiple choice questions just to be done with homework. But despite all that, I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

Monday nattering

I got gas Friday for $3.14 a gallon. On Sunday, gas at the very same gas station was $2.85 a gallon. I have to confess I felt a little glimmer of hope, a little bit of, "ok, maybe things are going to be alright". And I'll take hope wherever I can get it these days.

Wednesday of last week was a big day for us, in a dental sense: Bella lost her first tooth (first tooth excluding the one that was surgically removed while under anaesthesia at the age of 3), and Bubba's first tooth triumphantly emerged. It's the circle of teeth in my house - lose one, gain one. I had to leave the house at 11PM because *ahem* I had to make change for the Tooth Fairy, who seemed to think, and I agreed, that $10 was a bit excessive. So the tooth fairy left her $2, which I thought was a good amount but did not impress Bella. The Tooth Fairy did redeem him/herself, however, by also leaving her money at her Maw-Maw's house.

If you ask Bella, the Tooth Fairy and Santa Clause are pretty tight, and apparently Santa told the Tooth Fairy that she also gets gifts at Maw-Maw's house, and that's why the tooth fairy left her $5 there. She also said the Tooth Fairy left more money at Maw-Maw's house because she knew that we would make Bella use the money to buy her own hot lunch at school. Which we do sometimes, but come on, I don't need the Tooth Fairy busting my chops. Hot lunch at school costs $3/day, and there are two days of the week that we always plan on her buying hot lunch (because she tells us: "I only want hot lunch on cheeseburger day and pizza day"), but there are days in between that she just decides she wants it. If, on those days, I do not have cash, then I will tell her that she can use her own money, or she can bring lunch. I think that's fair.

Saturday night I was determined to enjoy and make the best of my evening. I got Brian off to work, Bubba off to bed, got Bella settled, and then started preparations for my own evening. I made myself a nice, strong cup of coffee and polished the whole thing off while sitting outside and enjoying the mild weather. Once I was finished with my entire, large cup of coffee, I headed inside and started a load of laundry. My plans for the evening were laundry and reading, because I have a new book (hooray!). I settled in on the soda with my new book, and then the next thing I knew, I woke up, looked at the clock and it was 4:30AM. The lights were still on, the TV was on (I like and need the background noise), and I was still in a seated position. bleary and half-awake. And then I had a horrible realization: the caffeine didn't work. What do you do when caffeine doesn't work anymore? Yikes.

Bella and her father are both sick this morning, and they are running neck and neck for whiniest sick person, ever. I think my husband should be given special consideration for the award, due to his his age and his ability to quickly revert to an incredibly rotten and whiny child. Last night I made a quick run to the store, and was gone for about forty minutes. When I got back I could hear him in bed, hacking and coughing. After about ten minutes of listening to him, I walked back to the bedroom and asked if he wanted some medicine. I got a very weak and wan, "Ye---cough, cough cough--s. Yes. cough cough". After I got him the medicine he said, "I've been coughing and coughing the whole time you've been gone". So you didn't get up and get yourself medicine? You just laid in bed, "coughing and coughing" and not doing anything about it? Even Bella will get up and come get me to tell me she doesn't feel well. And then today, when I called to check on them from work, I got in trouble because I finished off the last of the ice cream and ice cream really helps his throat. Then he ventured that, since I pass by multiple grocery stores on my way home, maybe I could stop and get him some more throat-soothing ice cream before I come home and make dinner. I suggested that a nice cough drop or throat spray, items which are already in the house, might I add, would be vastly superior for the job, but he was certain that nothing but ice cream would do. Hmmph. I'm thinking I might go home, make dinner, clean up and then go to the store for ice cream, so I can get out of the house and away from all the teething (Bubba) and the coughing (Bella) and the whining (my husband).

Happy Monday!

I've got the first grade blues

Last night it took Bella a full hour to finish her homework. And that was just to finish it; she had actually completed a worksheet and a half at after school care. At one point I actually said out loud, "This is taking forever!" - (not in an angry way, just kind of not believing that her homework was taking so long) to which Bella responded, "Well I'm the one actually doing it!". Point made and taken.


My homework policy is as follows: I am available at homework time. I don't hover, but I make sure to be nearby. I am available for questions that help her to arrive at an answer herself, but I refuse to provide the answer to the actual homework questions themselves.


I do check her homework to make sure that she has completed it, and I also check it to see what is right or what is wrong so I can gauge how she is doing, but I don't correct it for her. If I correct all her mistakes at home, how is her teacher supposed to know what areas she is having problems with? I will say things like, "Do you want to look this over one last time before you put it away?", and then I will discuss things with her - for instance, she has a problem with capitalization and punctuation (hmm, wherever does she get those pesky grammar problems? It must be from her father). When she writes sentences at home I will talk about capital letters and periods and whatnot with her, and she still forgets and leaves them off. So I send them back to school that way. I could be wrong, though - I'm open to thoughts on the subject.


I do my best to support her. I know education doesn't stop when school ends, so I try to make our home life as educational (yet fun) as possible. We read all the time, do science experiments together, we cook together (and I make her measure and read), we do workbooks and we write stories. I'm doing my part, or at least trying to.


I have been really, really bad about doing an the additional activities that are on her worksheets. Her math worksheets sometimes have this little section at the bottom with a suggested 'Parent Activity', and a box beside it to check if you actually did the activity. The first time I noticed it, the instructions were to take out forks and have the student count them. I confess that I did not bother. Right now, per her teacher's instructions, we are learning to count to 100 by 3's. So the same kid who is learning to count to 100 by 3's is going to somehow learn something by counting our 8 forks? Well, I guess with the salad forks that would be 16, but that's still not going to do much.


Then the next time I noticed the 'Parent Activity' the suggestion was to take down cans and other dry goods and have the student sort them. I see the educational value in that, I really do, but on that particular evening we didn't get home until after 6PM, so we had to eat dinner first, and then we got to homework. By the time I noticed the suggested activity it was going on 7:30m and the last thing I felt like doing was pulling cans and boxes out of the cabinets for her to sort. I have a tiny apartment, no pantry, and cabinets that were built to accommodate the height of NBA players - I have to get on a chair to reach them, seriously. I did have her play with some wooden blocks and instructed her to sort them by shape, then by size, then by color, but since I was busy trying to get Bubba to bed I think she just built stuff - a castle, a bed, then a chair. When I was finally able to offer her my undivided attention she had made a road and was driving hot wheels around on it.


So I didn't check either box to say that we had completed them - the first time because we didn't even bother, and the second time because we sort of attempted it but didn't really get it done. And when the homework came back home, the teacher had circled the little boxes in red pen. D'oh! I felt like a terrible mother. Last night when I was looking over her homework I noticed another parent activity, and I swear to you this is what it said:

Find somewhere one, two or three pictures of someone or something or someone using or doing something that can be used or done at sometime - morning, afternoon, evening, or night. Bring them to school with you tomorrow.

Say what? I had to re-read it three or four times before I actually sort of understood what they wanted. The irony in this was that just the other day I threw away about six magazines that I had been saving for cutting purposes but got sick of them just sitting around. So we were left with my husband's old magazines to look through, and we ended up (thanks to Florida Saltwater Fisherman) with a picture of someone driving a boat, someone fishing from a boat, and someone on a boat holding a fish. Not a lot of variety, but it fit the requirements. Anything would have fit the requirements.


Report cards come out next week, and Bella's school always does teacher conferences for the first report card of the year. I'm looking forward to talking to her teacher - there are some issues that I'm slightly concerned about. My slightly concerned is much more mellow than some of the other parents, who seem to be on the verge of some kind of classroom mutiny. I personally think the problems are mostly organizational and will work themselves out - at least, I hope so. I've heard from people that she is very good at actual teaching, but she isn't the best with details. And neither am I, so I can sympathize.


My conference is Thursday at 3:15, so I guess all will be revealed then. Hopefully. But in the meantime, I hate first grade and it is hard.

A Post That Is Way Too Long

Last night Bella asked me if she could take her baby rosary home from her Maw-Maw's house (it was a gift for her baptism). I said no, but told her she could take her purple rosary home (a gift for her 4th birthday, and bigger and far less delicate). She was so excited, and when we were in the car she said, "Mom, can I say the rosary in the car?". I told her if she waited until we got home we would say the rosary together, and she got even more excited. She then explained to me which prayer was said on each bead (awww), and went on to say that if you say the whole thing together you are praying to God in a beautiful way (awwwwwwwwwwwww). Then she added that she wanted to say the rosary for her great-grandma from the farm (who passed away years before she was even born) and that she said a prayer to great-grandma just the other night to tell her that she loves her and she hopes that she is OK.

So after we got home and got Bubba settled into his bed, we sat down on the loveseat and said the Rosary together. I must confess to being dubious that she would finish a whole rosary - I thought for sure that two decades in (at the most) she would get bored and would run off to do something else, but she did the whole thing. I was astonished - she's 6, she's in the first grade, and her attention falters at the best of times, but despite being tired and up past her bedtime, usually a recipe for disaster, she said an entire rosary with me. It was lovely, and made me love her even more. What a good girl! I'm telling you, those sisters of St. John Bosco know what they are doing.

And from heavenly matters to more earthly things: Bella asked about her brother's boy parts the other night, wanting some specific details. I'm honestly surprised that she hasn't asked before now. I was at the sink washing dishes when she started inquiring about the differences between boys and girls, and I spent the entire conversation holding firmly onto the counter top in an attempt to counteract my overwhelming urge to just slide down and hide behind the counter until she found something else to do. I know, I know, it's normal, bla-bla, and I was actually somewhat prepared for what I thought of as standard questions along those lines, but she was asking some whoppers, one of them particularly funny....but I am hesitant to share - someone, somewhere could be offended by it, even though I later laughed until I almost cried. We made it through unscathed, though. I handled it decently. Whew.

Scouting is not going well at all. Well, it's not going that badly, but it's no walk in the park (13 girls between the ages of 4 and 6 - enough said). I had some parents who were rather upset at the amount of time it took me to get meetings started up again, and engaged in some behind-my-back complaining - whatever. I let it go (but not before saying, multiple times, "If they think they can do it better then let them do it!"). And then the same parents who were so demanding of my time are the same parents who suddenly have a million excuses as to why they can't help. I got a lot of "I'll be there, but I can't really help in any official capacity....". Again, whatever. There are all these new training requirements that I am having trouble meeting. And then there was the real morale breaker - some field supervisor at a meeting the other night was apparently not in the best of moods, and said a few things that just absolutely killed me. She complained about how the area our cluster of troops operate in is economically depressed (what area isn't economically depressed right now?) and that there is no growth or future in it. So the organization should just give up on the area? I'm sorry, to me that seems completely contrary to what Girl Scouts is all about. Scouting doesn't necessarily cost a lot of money to participate in (depending on age and activities, of course), and in a time where money is tight and not everyone has the cash flow to shell out $80 bucks a month for dance lessons or tae-kwon-do, the $8 a month (give or take) for meeting dues is a very affordable option.

The woman is question is an actual paid employee of the scouts, as opposed to the rest of us who are volunteering our time out of the goodness of our hearts. I don't have anything against the woman being paid - good for her, but she really killed me when she complained about her quota, that she gets paid by the girl and our area doesn't have enough girls and we aren't recruiting and doing enough to make sure she gets paid. There are women in this group running troops of 30-40 girls. They aren't turning anyone away, they are taking on as many girls as they can and are at their wit's end because of it. Especially some of the troops in lower income areas - they are operating virtually without any kind of dues because some of their members can't afford to pay. It's a challenge for me to come up with activities and ideas with 13 dues paying members, but these women are heroes. They are coming up with creative activities and ideas that relate to and/or teach the values of girl scouting in a fun way with virtually no money. I know I have dipped into my own pocket for girl scouts several times over the course of the last year or so, and I can only imagine that they are doing the same.

Her comments and attitude really made me wonder again why I'm going through so much trouble and spending so much time doing this. I could easily quit and spend the time I spent working on scout projects (shopping, prep work, planning meetings, details, running meetings, cleaning up after meetings) with my children, but I really don't think anyone else would step up and do it. I wanted to do this to spend some time with Bella, and over the course of last year really came to know and love the other girls, and for that reason I won't give up and quit, but it is awfully tempting. It's disheartening to spend so much time and effort to have it all reduced to cash and quotas. Cash and quotas are an fact of life, I get it, but what about the girls? Whatever. I will keep on keepin' on. I will muddle through this, trying to stay below the radar and try and show these girls a good, sneakily-educational time.

On another less-than-cheery note: I didn't realize how scared I was that my hours at work are going to be reduced again until I found myself doing some early Christmas shopping for the kids. After some thought, I realized that I am getting the shopping done early to ensure that the kids will have a thing or two under the tree to open. And that is if my hours are reduced, that's not even thinking about being laid off. Which is a possibility we have to consider, in all honesty. Times are tough, and when the going gets tough the tough don't go and buy pianos. Which effects me in a kind of trickling, crap-rolling downhill kind of way.

I am going to try and be optimistic, though. I don't know how successful I will be at optimism, but I've got to try. The holidays are coming up, maybe business will pick up, I'm a lucky woman, and I know it. I just need to look at the bright spots more than I look at the bad spots.

I'm looking forward to the rest of the weekend - I have some new pothead neighbors who look promising. I don't mind stoners - they are, for the most part, pretty calm people. Our other neighbors are all young, blustery military punks or young, drama-fraught college students - the weekends are soap operas around the building. There is a lot of drinking, a lot of shouting, a lot of fighting - I don't seek any of this crap out, either, and I'm not standing with my ear to the door listening - these people will stand in the outdoor breezeway and scream at each other, or in the parking lot right outside my patio and scream at each other. They never seem to be able to fight in their own apartments. Stoners are mellow (again, with some exceptions), and we need some mellow. They seem like nice guys, and they offered to bring me doughnuts back from a munchie run, which was thoughtful. I politely declined, but it was a nice thought.

Bella is spending the night at my MIL's house tonight, and tomorrow my FIL is taking them to eat breakfast at Cracker Barrel and then shopping at Kohl's. I get to spend the evening doing the chores that I haven't done over the past week or so. There's laundry piling up, the kitchen floor is crying out for help, in a dirty, sticky kind of way, and the carpet is so filthy I'm thinking we should just tear it out and start over. And now there's a strange drunk man in the store accosting us, so I'm gonna go. Happy weekend to all!

5 Things I've Learned from Blogging

In (delayed) honor of National Punctuation Day, I am going to blatantly overuse and misuse punctuation in this post (like I don't do it in every post, hello) - be forewarned. But first: this is what Bubba should be for Halloween........





However, a quick search of froogle provided me with the sobering fact that the adidas suit is about $134, and the kangol hat is about $20. So there you go - no baby DJ costume for Bubba because, as cute and as old school as it might be, I refuse to spend that much money on a Halloween costume. Even if it does rock out loud. Anyway:

Aimee tagged me for this meme - 5 things I've learned from blogging:

1.) Writing is therapy. I can't tell you how many times I have drafted something, then read it over and been astonished by what was either blatantly there or tucked between the lines. Sometimes I can work my way through an issue just by posting about it, and then I don't bother posting about it at all. There's nothing like perspective.

2.) People can be nice. It's astonishing that people who are geographically so far away can become so close. And can be so nice! It's wonderful when someone across the country whom I've never met offers me an e-hug just because I was having a bad day. It makes you feel better when you feel completely wiped as a mother and nice person in general and someone that you've never met in person can commiserate and talk you down from the ledge where you are about to dive off and into a full bottle of red wine and a family-size bag of nacho cheese doritos.

3.) You people can write. I'm amazed by all the casual bloggers who just write so amazingly well - just normal, average, every day people, tearing it up with the written word. You're like some sort of writing superhero - "during the day, she is your average suburban housewife, but in the evenings (after the kids are in bed, of course) she becomes.......SuperBlogger!". I can't count the number of times I have perused my normal blog haunts and come away with tears in my eyes, either from laughing so hard or because I was emotionally moved.



4.) People can be nasty. And judgemental and thoughtless and downright mean. The two things people can be the meanest about? Religion and parenting, the two items that should inspire kindness. But nooooooo, people can get nasty if your beliefs differ even slightly from theirs. But oh well - sticks and stones, right?



5.) If you don't have anything nice to say.....well, you know. Many times I have entertained the notion of blogging about some nasty bit of business and then checked myself and taken the high road. Doing this always makes me think: if I wouldn't blog about it, what business do I have saying it at all? Helps me rein in my tendency to gossip. Well, somewhat. Not entirely, but I'm working on it.

I had better get my butt to work. Because this is my to-do list for today:

• Work
• Pick up Bella from after school care
• Pick up Bubba from in-law's
• Go home, rustle up some dinner
• Baths and bedtime
• A full hour of 'The Office' reruns on TBS - woo-hoo!

And my husband, who has been on a boat fishing since the wee small hours of the morning today, had better not get in my way with his smelly clothes and his scaly fish and all the other fun things he comes home with. And that is a threat and a promise, my friends. Because if he gets up in my grill around 9:00PM this whining about laundry and fish cleaning......he's gonna have problems. Not as bad as the problem he will have if he shoves his dirty, smelly, fish-blood covered clothes in with the other dirty clothes for me to find in two days (when I start wandering around the house asking, "What stinks in here?") instead of washing them as soon as he takes them off. Oops, wait, number 5, I need to remember #5. But he still better leave me alone while 'The Office' is on.

Please consider this to be my official notice of voluntary resignation

I quit -- or, at least, I quit trying to do everything. I am not SuperMom. For a week or so now I have been mulling this thought over, and I think I'm ok with it. I have good days, and I have bad days, but I'm not perfect and that is just how it is. I have come to accept it, and am slowly starting to revel in it. So I'll say it loud and I'll say it proud: I cannot do everything. I cannot do and be everything for everyone, and that is OK.

Perfect example: I forgot that Friday was 'Spirit Day' at Bella's school, and that she could wear regular clothes. And so that morning, when I dropped her off at school and every kid in the drop off line had on street clothes, she was crestfallen. I got the big "Mooooooom!". I apologized, but I didn't get my normal good-bye and 'love you', so I know she was upset. I will admit to fretting over it during the course of the day, but by the time I picked her up from school she was over it, only mentioning once that she could have worn regular clothes and then dropping the subject completely. On a side note, I went home that morning and placed a guilt-inspired, larger-than-usual scholastic book order that I rationalized with the idea that I could give her the books for Christmas. But then I realized that making the books Christmas gifts did nothing to alleviate the problem at hand, thus proving that reason and rationalization have no place in my derailing train of thought.

I would have made a terrible SuperMom, anyway. My cape would have always been wrinkled, and probably tucked into the waistband of my pants or skirt. I don't exactly have the body to make anything made of spandex look decent, and I would need at the very least a good, supportive shelf bra (if not something with a formed cup) in my leotard to keep the girls in check.

The thought first occurred to me last Friday, on the occasion of Bella's school hosting a "Hispanic Heritage Family Fun Night". I had checked off that we would bring a dessert on our RSVP form, and around the middle of the week started dreading the event entirely. I didn't want to go, I didn't want to make anything to bring, I didn't want to keep Bubba out past his bedtime....I had a million reasons not to go, and one smiling sunshine of a reason to go - Bella was so excited about it she could hardly contain herself. I finally resigned myself to going, and to most likely staying up into the wee, small hours of the morning baking multiple flavors of homemade cookies, but my internal whining was interrupted by a rebellious little thought - why? Why kill yourself baking homemade cookies when you can just buy them? SuperMom was horrified at the idea, but EveryMom was all for it. So I did something that I have never done before in my school bring-a-dish experiences: I purchased store-made cookies. And not only did I buy store-made cookies, I left them in their store bakery boxes. And I left those bakery boxes in the plastic store bag. And I smiled the smile of a well-rested woman when I handed them over to to the real SuperMom - the PTA SuperMom.

You know the kind I'm talking about - she's the mom that attends every PTA event. She is on every committee - if anything goes on at the school, she is not only there, but she planned it and is actively executing it. Her kids are always well-behaved and immaculately dressed and coiffed, and her husband is always around and helping out. She always sets the example - she buys $200 worth of overpriced gift wrap and then tells you about. She bought $250 worth of Scrip cards and then drops that fact at a PTA meeting. She's a good woman with the best of intentions, and she obviously has her stuff together better than me. So I hand her my bag of store cookies and she says, "Oh, Wal-Mart cookies.". She then pointed out the two dishes that she had made and brought, and proudly told me, complete with perfectly rolled R's, the name of these Mexican-themed dishes. I just smiled and said, "That looks yummy." And then I went and found my seat and we had a nice time, and guess what? The world didn't end because I didn't bring homemade food. It felt good. And another little side note: I ran into PTA SuperMom on my out to the car. She was standing by her minivan, wearing a sombrero, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer (staying true to the theme of the evening, it was a Dos Equis) that she had pulled out of a cooler in her van. Ole! I guess even PTA SuperMom needs a little help getting by sometimes.

I have since engaged in some decidedly non-SuperMom activities. For example: Thursday night I put both kids to bed early so I could watch the season premier of 'The Office'. I finished off a bag of Bella's gummy bears while reading (I have finished two books this week!) and ignoring the dishes in the sink and the towels in the dryer. I drank the last Capri Sun, ate the last snack-sized bag of Cheetos, and took the last watermelon flavored lollipop. I won't share my pink Flavor-Ice popsicles anymore, either, so don't ask. And to top it all off, last night I put Bella to bed at her school night bedtime so I could have a friend come over, and we had a good time. We shared a six pack of beer on the patio and giggled until even my loud twenty-something neighbors were giving us dirty looks. Forced inside, we laughed at silly TV commercials until I almost spilled my beer and said aloud, "Oh, man, I can't spill on the carpet, my husband freaks out about the carpet", and then we giggled again and engaged in a friendly game of "Oh, you think that's bad, well my husband......". Hey, you can love someone and still make fun of the way they fold towels. We decided that we should get together every Friday night, and call it "The Friday Night Whine Club". We probably won't, but it's a nice thought and it was a nice evening.

Of course, even though I am just your normal, average, everyday mom, I do have the occasional super moments. This morning, for example: I woke up at 6:30 and in the hours before I had to be to work at 10:00am, I saw two loads of laundry through to completion (folded, hung, and put away! that never happens), cleaned both bathrooms, emptied the dishwasher and reloaded it, steamed, pureed, and froze some sweet potatoes for Bubba, got both kids and myself bathed, dressed and out the door, took the kids to my sisters, actually remembered all the things I was supposed to bring there, and got to work on time. Hooray! I'm SuperMom!

But then there was another morning this week that was absolutely dismal - Bubba woke up at 4:30 and decided he would wake up every 15 minutes or so after that until finally deciding to be up for the day around 6:15, I got sidetracked for time and ended up having to wake Bella up late and then rush her around to get ready, then I realized I didn't have cash for hot lunch money and had to hurriedly pack Bella a lunch (on mini-corndog day! oh, the horror!), we were almost late for school, Bubba pooped all over himself and his car seat, I wasn't aware of that fact immediately and he sat in it for a bit while I got stuff out of the car (I have a cold and my smeller doesn't work so well), Bubba licked an electrical outlet for some unknown length of time until I rounded the corner and caught him doing it, he almost fell in the bathtub, he hit his head on a chair, and screamed his head off because I wasn't holding him every second. When my husband got home from work I quickly tossed aside the reins of parental responsibility and went and hid in the shower in a blatant display of non-Super behavior.

There is always that humbling moment, you know, just when you think you have it all together, something happens that messes with your chi, blocks your flow, gets you all off course. But that's OK, because not every moment has to be perfect. And that's what I'm learning, slowly but surely. I also need to remember not to let those humbling moments detract from all the other good moments in my life. I'm a work in progress, darn it. I need a sign: "Please excuse my progress: undergoing renovations".

Sleeve Snot

Both kids are sick, Bubba more so than Bella. Bella is just kind of a coasting, functioning sick - not sick enough to stay home from school, not sick enough to keep her from her normal mayhem, just sick enough to wipe her nose all over the sleeve of her shirts. This sleeve snot, when mixed with dirt, forms an impenetrable stain. They should cover airplanes with this sleeve snot, because it could probably keep passengers safe in the event of a crash. Straight bleach does not work, and you can Shout all you want to, it ain't coming out. Oxy Clean (made into a paste that will destroy your fingerprints) combined with some serious elbow grease will get it out but takes a while.

I would love to talk to the genius who decided that the school uniform shirts should be white. I guess maybe that is so they won't be hot outside in the warmer months, but come on. In Pre-K, we had one PE shirt (because these white t-shirts with the school logo cost $22), so I spent a lot of time on stain removal. Last year, through the magic of hand-me-downs from a friend, we had three PE shirts. Three! It was blissful. No panicky, middle of the night loads of laundry because I forgot to wash the shirt since the last PE day. No staying up until 3AM and running the shirt through three wash cycles because stains wouldn't come out. Backup is a beautiful thing. This year we are back to one, that I got from the uniform exchange. It was in great shape when I got it, too. I showed it to her, explained that this was the only PE shirt she had, and we needed to try and take care of it. And with that simple statement, friends and neighbors, I doomed that poor shirt (and myself).

There must be something about the shirt that gives Bella an inner ear problem, because once she has it on, she becomes the clumsiest child on the face of the planet. She has fallen almost every PE day, she has spilled an entire container of chocolate milk on it twice - TWICE! - and, with her seemingly constant runny nose lately, it has been covered in muddy sleeve snot. It's almost become a game - "And now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time to play, "GUESS WHAT THAT STAIN IS!". And don't forget the bonus round, "WILL THAT STAIN COME OUT??!!". PE days are Mondays and Fridays. Mondays don't seem to be as hard on the shirt. There will be dirt, of course, and marker, and the other things first graders pick up over the course of a day. But Fridays? There is apparently something about Fridays that makes these children go insane, because on Fridays, without fail, she is filthy. She goes to after school care for a while on Fridays, and there has not been a Friday yet where I haven't gasped at the sight of how dirty her shirt is. I thought it was just her, but one Friday some of her classmates ran over to check out Bubba and I saw that they, too, were covered in stains. I don't know what the answer is - do they make Scotch guard for children? They should.

Yesterday, when I picked Bella up from school, her shirt was almost immaculate (except, of course, for the ever-present sleeve snot). I was astonished, and complimented her on how very spotless the shirt was. We got in the car, I handed her the Bug juice I had brought for her, and.....well, you can imagine how it ended, I'm certain. Red bug juice, I might add. It couldn't be a nice, thoughtfully clear juice drink, nooooo, I had to get the red bug juice. Sigh. Oh well. So, just in case you were wondering, I will be spending my Saturday night elbow deep in a ski-irritating Oxy Clean paste, scrubbing at her PE shirt with an old toothbrush and maybe watching a movie - a Harry Potter movie, yeah. I'm astonished that I don't have my own reality show, honestly - viewers would be riveted by the excitement in my daily life. "Oh, look she's.....Oh, my gosh, I don't believe it, I think she....yes, yes....oh, my gosh, she got the stain out!". America would leap to its' feet and cheer. No autographs, please.

Heyhey---a meme!

Aimee tagged me for this meme, which I will gladly do because I love talking about my kids.



1. Post a picture of you with your kids. Oops, can't do it. Technology and its' quirks prevent me from doing so. Be assured they are quite adorable to behold, while I look tired and haggard with dark circles and bad hair.



2. How many children do you have? 2, a girl and a boy.



3. What are their ages? Bella, age 6, and Bubba, seven months



4. What do you eat for breakfast? Bella eats cereal, Bubba fruit and a homemade brown rice cereal that he hates but will begrudgingly hold in his mouth, then spit out and fingerpaint with it. I eat bran cereal because.....well, why does anyone eay bran cereal? Not because it's yummy, that's for sure.



5. Do they watch TV? Yes, alas. I am about to institute a 'TV Ticket" program that will give Bella so many tickets a week and she will have to budget them accordingly. She watches TV to the point of utter distraction. Example: the other night she was watching cartoons, and I walked by with the trash, stopped in front of her and said, "Bella, I'm going to take the trash out. OK?" She replied, "OK, mommy". I walked to trash to the dumpster and when I got back to the house she was frantically running around, sobbing and calling my name. I had to calm her down, and she said, "You just left and didn't tell me where you were going or that you were gone!". That is sad. I not only made sure (I thought!) that she heard me, I actually got a reply, and she was so into TV that she didn't remember either. Hence the TV tickets - I think they are a nice (if not somewhat hokey) way to get some balance.



6. What are their favorite activities? Bubba enjoys putting things in his mouth, crawling, and climbing into places he can't get out of. He also likes eating, smacking things, licking the sliding glass door, pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. (ha!) Bella seems to enjoy everything. Her favorites seem to be painting, playing outside with other kids, she enjoys reading, singing (especially in the shower), and plunking around on her little toy keyboard. She likes cooking and baking, too.



7. Do you get a break from them during the day? Yes - Bella is in first grade, so she's out of pocket until 3:00pM, and I work part-time during the week and full time hours on Saturday. I miss them terribly but appreciate the break. Actually, the break also makes me appreciate them more. Given the opportunity I would love to stay home with them, but.....eh, you know how it is.

8. How do you end your day? Cleaning and housework, mostly. My husband works overnight sometimes, so I also try and make sure to savor the quiet once he is gone and Bella and Bubba are in bed. And now that the weather is getting cooler I'm really loving it. With hubby gone, and Bella and Bubba tucked away for the night, I love sitting on the patio with a cold drink and enjoying the breeze (it's been in the high 60's at night here lately! somebody get me a sweater!).

9. What is your best parenting tip or advice? Whatever it is, it can wait. Since I work during the day, I try and accomplish as much as possible when the kids asleep or away or whatever. I have been known to let dishes sit in the sink, to ignore the trash that needs to go out (unless it's particularly smelly), and allow dust bunnies to build up, all for the sake of spending time with my kids. The dishes will hold another hour or two until bedtime, but Bella will only want to spend time with me for so long, and Bubba will only be willing to snuggle for so long, so I need to do all that now. It ain't a new concept, I know, but I have to remind myself all the time.


I don't think I'll tag anyone right now, so if anyone wants to pick it up and run with it, feel free. Or apply it to a pet, or personal belonging you are particularly fond of. I have to go prepare for my first girl scout meeting, which is another post entirely.

I'd like to thank the academy.....

Aimee at The Mother Load gave me my first ever blogger award! Thanks, Aimee! This is a big day for me. First I'd like to thank God, and my kids, and blogger......oh, nevermind. It's a big deal to me and no one else. But hooray! She gave me this:

And now I have to give it away to five people - four regular readers and one person who is new or far away. So I proudly bestow this award to my dear sister Teresa, my dear sister Jen, the always charming T of T With Honey, and Mike (who possibly might not count since he doesn't really blog anymore, but who could blame him with everything he's got going on. So Mike: blogging or not, you are my buddy). And since it would be darned difficult to get much further away, I bestow the far away award to the lovely and talented Jen over at the Southern Jennisphere. And I would give this back to Aimee, if I could.

I didn't provide links because I'm too lazy, you can check my sidebar for links (all except to Mike's) and you should check them out because the aforementioned people, including Aimee, are some funny, thoughtful, uniquely wonderful people. Thanks, y'all!

Fairy dust wands and suction cup arrows

Gustav gave us a couple of days of windy squalls - very bi-polar weather. Wind and rain, then some brief sunshine, then pouring rain, and so on and so forth. We escaped unscathed, for the most part. Thankfully, the worst of it was being stuck inside on a holiday weekend. We were very lucky.


I was at my sister-in-law's house last night, visiting on my own (I know! Without the kids!) and was talking to my sister-in-law about my kids and their magical ways. I was speaking fondly of Bubba and his personality and how very different he is from his sister. Bubba is easy to describe, and it isn't just because he is a baby - he has a big personality for a little guy and he puts it all out there - he doesn't hold back. At the ripe age of seven months, Bubba is big, boisterous, bouncing baby boy. He is fearless and curious and into everything he can reach and a few things he can't. He's sly and sneaky and, for such a loud kid, can be awfully stealthy when he wants to be.


Bella's personality is not that easy to describe. She was an enigma as a baby, as well. You never knew how she was going to react to a situation (except you knew eventually she would act shy and scared). She was an explorer, too, but a safe and predictable one. She was always tentative in her exploring, usually telling on herself by looking for reassurance as she tried to get into the dog food or something else. She was a very easygoing baby (except for being shy) and has grown into a rather easygoing kid.


All that to say this: I was trying to describe my Bella and kept contradicting myself. I would say, "Well, she is a princess" but then I would remember her propensity for wrestling, burping and transformer toys and then I would say, "Or a tomboy" but then I would remember the huge container of dress up outfits in her closet and her growing affection for purses and shoes. Then I started to say, "She's a quiet kid" but remembered how very shriek-y, shrill and insistent she can be. But "She is so loud!" wouldn't cut it either, because she still has that tendency to be shy and hide her face. She still acts like a kid (as she should, at 6, at least IMHO) in that she shuns live action shows in favor of cartoons - there's no Drake & Josh, Camp Rock or Hannah Montana (except that one 3-D concert) around my house - just SpongeBob, Chowder (one of my favorite cartoons ever, I must say) and other animated friends. But she is growing up because she thinks she needs a cell phone and wants to shave her legs (um, no to both, thank you).


So I went home, still mulling over Bella and how I could possibly describe her, and decided that I just can't. Not in just a couple of words or phrases. And then she drove that point home. Almost at that very moment she emerged from her room wearing blue camouflage football pajamas (I got them on sale - pajamas are pajamas, right?) with a pink tutu. She was wearing a tiara and clip-on Dora earrings. Around her neck she was wearing a lovely dice-themed mardi gras bead necklace and a toy police badge. In one hand she was wielding a marabou-feathered princess wand. She had a suction cup bow and arrow set slung over her shoulder, and sticking out of the back of her shirt was the butt of a toy shotgun. She was carrying a pink purse with purple marabou trim that was full of little plastic army men and the missiles from her transformer.


And what type of footwear does one wear with such an ensemble, you might ask? Well, I don't know what you would wear, but Bella, my lovely little fashion plate warrior, opted for a very fashionable brown mule with a small heel - very tasteful and understated. Since the rest of the outfit was so....colorful.


I laughed and asked her what she was doing, and she answered that she was just playing. I complimented her outfit and she thanked me, very seriously, and followed that up with, "I choose to wear this, mom. Is that OK?" I assured her that her choice was OK. But I wanted to take a picture of her and capture the moment (if the camera hadn't been in my husband's car) just so I can always remember how very magical she is.

She is big on the word 'choose' right now. The other day she had her black t-shirt tucked into her jeans and her jeans pulled up to just under her chest, grandpa-style. I giggled and suggested that she untuck the shirt, and she said she didn't want to. "I choose to wear this shirt tucked in" she replied, before heading to her room to find her pink monkey ankle socks with pom-poms and her black knee-high boots.

I love her for the way she is so uniquely, unashamedly herself, and I hope she stays that way forever. I know I could learn a thing or two from her. So here's to Bella - may you always choose to wear what you want to because it's comfortable or you like the way it looks, no matter what other people's thoughts, opinions and comments may be. I hope she always feels free to wear football pajamas with a tiara (although she could lose the toy shotgun and I'd be OK with it), or carry a purse full of boy toys. She is full of love and finds joy in everything she does, and I love her so much my heart aches. To my Bella: rock on, baby girl, mommy loves you.

Hurricane Havoc

I hate hurricanes. Why do I live on the gulf coast of Florida, then? I don't know - maybe it's in my blood. My roots here run deep - as far back as 1784, when Pedro Suarez and family were first listed on the Pensacola, Florida census, and from that hardy stock we came. I've moved away and back twice now. Having said that, there is bad weather everywhere, and at least with hurricanes you have the time to get out of town, or at least to batten down the hatches.

The weather is the hot topic. It doesn't matter who - strangers, friends, neighbors, family - everyone is talking. At work, suddenly all my vendor reps from around the country, people who I never hear from, are calling under the guise of other things and then saying, "So what about this hurricane?". Everyone is sick of talking about it but can't stop talking about it. It looks like we are going to escape the worst of this one, although we will probably get some wind and rain. We got some of Katrina, too. Katrina was a terrible tragedy, and I can't imagine what those people went through. Going through Hurricane Ivan was a horrible, almost traumatic experience, so I can't imagine going through Katrina.

When Katrina hit Bella and I were living with my in-laws here in town - Brian had been temporarily transferred to Panama City, and we were living there until his return. So living there at the time was: my mother-in-law and father-in-law, Bella and myself, and my sister-in-law and her husband. Then some of my MIL's family from New Orleans evacuated to her house, adding another two adults and three children to the mix. Still being sensitive because of Hurricane Ivan, most of the town shut down for Katrina, so everyone was home. The wind and rain were bad but bearable, as was the tension level in the house. The evacuees were having a tough time of it - the husband and wife were fighting, viciously and almost constantly, the older boys weren't listening to anyone and were being disrespectful to their stepfather, and the 2-year old girl was...well, acting like a two-year old stuck inside during a hurricane.

The cable went out first, around 8AM or so, and without the television around the three kids went slightly insane. My father-in-law and I were discussing making a pot of coffee when the power went out, but he wasn't having it, saying "Oh, no way I'm getting through this day without coffee" and promptly went and got the generator fired up. As the day progressed the house got uncomfortably warm, thanks to the lack of electricity. The kids were miserable and acting out, and my mother-in-law was miserable and acting out, and so my father-in-law grabbed me and my sister-in-law and off we went to Wal-Mart in the middle of a hurricane to buy a fan. We lingered in Wal-Mart, enjoying the AC and lack of naughty children. Eventually we went back to the house. Wind and rain, rain and wind, things eventually slowed down. We got power back the next day at home, and we had this weird half-power situation at work, but we opened up anyway. A few days later things were pretty normal, except for all the yard trash. We were lucky.

Hurricane Ivan? Not so much. The home we were renting at the time was in a mandatory evacuation zone, so I packed up my musical instruments, pictures and important documents, squeezed Bella into her carseat and off we went to my in-law's house. Oh, and Brian, he was there too. My sister-in-law and her husband came, as well. We lost power fairly early on, and phone rather quickly afterwards. We played poker, or Phase 10, or Skip-Bo, or Uno, or solitaire, or anything else we could think of to keep ourselves occupied. Bella, only two at the time, alternated between her Leapster and other, non-battery-operated toys.

After dark, things got really bad. You could barely see what was happening during the daylight hours - once it was dark you could only guess what was banging its' way down the street. We had a huge Mag-Lite flashlight that we used to attempt to see out the screen door, but the only things that could be made out were large items - as in, "There goes Mrs. Thelma's carport cover" as the huge sheet of aluminum whipped down the street at top speed.

We were all in the formal living room (where we could open the windows without being doused), trying to sleep, when we heard a suspicious noise from the den at the back of the house. Upon further investigation (with flashlights and kerosene lamps) we found the ceiling leaking, copiously, in multiple places. We started taking pictures off the walls and moving furniture around. We got out some big woks (I mean, big woks - think three feet across) and started putting them out to catch the water. My sister-in-law was headed towards the kitchen when the ceiling started collapsing on her head. Ceiling tiles and insulation started falling everywhere - all over the furniture, the floor. We made mad dashes to save whatever else we could in the room before putting up a tarp over the entry to it from the rest of the house and hoping for the best - if the ceiling completely collapsed and there was a hole in the roof we would be open to the outside world and the hurricane blowing through it..

While we were recovering from that, someone was looking through the screen door with the flashlight and asked for a second opinion: "Does it look like the oak tree is moving?" Dread - that is the only word I can come up with. That oak tree was huge - think a good 6-8 feet in circumference, and easily twice as tall as the house. And it was moving. Slowly, but when there was a particularly good gust, it would tip a little bit more. And over the course of the night, it started listing more and more towards the driveway and house. When I saw it moving (this was at the peak of the storm, around 2AM, when the eye was hitting Gulf Shores, Alabama, to our west) I moved a sleeping Bella from the living room to the hallway. I don't mind admitting that at that point I was genuinely scared. I had been uncomfortable before, but now I was downright afraid for our safety, if not our lives. And that might sound overly dramatic, but in the middle of the night in the middle of a category 3 hurricane with the ceiling collapsing and a huge oak tree menacing your living room, well....you would be scared, too.

Bella had gone back to sleep, blissfully unaware of what was going on, and I was laying beside her trying to sleep but unable to, thanks to the constant howling of the wind. I rubbed my eye and felt something wet on my forehead that I thought at first was sweat. I thought it was sweat, I hoped it was sweat, I was ready to pray that it was sweat, but it was not - it was water leaking down from the ceiling in the hallway. I called for backup and as we stood there, peering down the hallway with our flashlights, watching leak after leak start dripping along the hallway. While getting pots and pans to try and catch the water the kitchen ceiling started leaking, and water started leaking from almost every AC vent in the house. I wish I could explain how it felt, just running around the house and finding all these leaks popping up and not knowing if the ceiling and/or the roof would hold up, or if the tree was going to fall on us while we slept or what was going to happen. It was panicky for a while there for all of us, but the leaks seemed to be content to just leak and not cave in the ceiling anymore, so we eventually got something (a pot, a pan, a bucket, a big cup) under the all the leaks we could find and then settled back in the living room (with a lookout on the tree) to try and get some sleep, probably around 4AM.

Morning dawned as best as it could against a hurricane. It was literally too windy to go outside until around 9 or 10AM, but even then there were gusts that came close to knocking us down. We went outside and just couldn't speak. There were fallen trees everywhere. Our tree had held up, but was listing dangerously over the driveway. All the cars in the driveway had been damaged in some way, with my windshield and hood getting the worst of it. There were branches and limbs and shingles and pieces of indiscernible debris everywhere. It was terrible, and the following weeks were terrible (the aftermath is another post entirely), but we made it through, and that is what matters. So I will leave you for today with the following cheesy thoughts on hurricanes and Florida:

Things Hurricane Ivan Taught Me:
-An oak tree on the ground looks four times bigger than it did standing up.
-Even after all these years, it is still nice to spend time with Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with the lead pipe.
-When house hunting, look for closets with lots of leg room.
-Water from the shower is much colder than water from the sink. .. and it tastes just as bad.
-The four-way stop is still an ingenious reflection of civility. If people follow the rules.
-Radio can be the best way to watch television.
-Chain-saw-wielding men are nothing to be afraid of.
-SUVs are the best makeshift tents on the market.
-You can use your washing machine as a cooler.
-It's your God-given and constitutionally protected right to sit on your back porch and eat Chinese takeout by candlelight in your underwear.
-We shouldn't complain about "useless" tools in the garage. .. we actually do need a generator.
-You can't spell "priceless" without I-C-E.
-Cell phones: Breaking up is hard to do.
-The need for your dog to go out and take care of business is inversely proportional to the severity of the storm.
-Candlelight is better than Botox. .. it takes several years off your appearance.
-Air conditioning: Best invention ever.
-Water is comfort food. But three-day-old Cheetos are, too.
-Shadow animals on the wall are. .. still fun.
-There's a plus to having nothing in the refrigerator.
-The movie theater can be a most pleasant place, even if the feature is Alien vs. Predator.

How to Recognize a Floridian
-Their freezer never has more than $20 worth of food in it at any given time. *This is so true- as soon as hurricane season starts I and many people I know don't keep more than a few meals worth of food in the freezer*
-They are looking at paint swatches for the plywood on their windows to accent the house color.
-They talk about their hall closet/safe room as "cozy."
-They have a collage of roof shingles from their neighborhood on their driveway.
-They each own five large ice chests.
-They always stop what they're doing and clap and wave when they see a convoy of power company trucks come down their street.
-They are depressed when the trucks don't stop.
-They know the definition of bar chain oil.
-They think the $6000 whole-house generator seems reasonable.
-They get really passionate in discussions about the merits of cubed, block, and dry ice.
-They ask their friends and relatives up north to start saving the Sunday real estate classifieds!

Believe me, although hokey, anyone who has been there and done that are nodding in agreement. Groaning, but nodding. Happy holiday weekend to all!

Of Homework and Hurricanes

School update: We are halfway through week three of first grade, and the honeymoon has ended for both Bella and myself. First grade is a lot of work and absolutely nothing like I remember it. I also don't remember it being so labor intensive for my parents (although I remember little of first grade so I'm probably wrong). According to the school handbook, Bella should have 30-45 minutes of homework per night, and most nights she does. The other night she was doing homework for an hour and a half. I would call if ridiculous, but most of it was for religion class so I would feel bad for calling it ridiculous. So I will say the amount of time spent on it was ridiculous. Of course, it is all still new to everyone and the bugs are still being worked out.Things will get better. I have had a couple of concerns with her teacher - there has been some communication issues, and she misspelled two words (suppose as 'supoose' and bring as 'breng' - made me feel a little funny but hey, she has 20 kids to write notes for, so maybe she was in a hurry). But it's early yet.

Her school has been fortunate enough to be graced with the addition of three Salesian sisters to the staff - one as principal, one as K4 aide and one whose exact job I'm not sure of but she is absolutely delightful to be around. Maybe that's her job. If so, she is doing a smashing job of it. The entire atmosphere of the school has changed. Even the parish/school priest has gone through a notable change in attitude. Things used to be bad - if he had to walk through the parking lot at carpool time he would do this brisk run/walk across the parking lot, pulling his baseball cap lower onto his head and hugging whatever he was carrying against him almost in a defensive pose. He wouldn't make eye contact or speak to anyone, even if they spoke to him. This year he stands in the middle of the two carpool lanes waving at every single car like a beauty pageant contestant. When Bella and I were walking up to her class for open house he stopped us outside the cafeteria and greeted us warmly, even jokingly asking Bella if she was looking forward to starting middle school. After we walked away Bella said, "Father Joe is nice this year". I really am thrilled with all the changes that have been made and I think it has made a good school into a great school.

And one of my favorite improvements? PTO meeting scheduling. Previously these meetings, especially the first one of the year, have taken HOURS. Literally, I would be leaving the school after 9PM. Last night, Father opened the PTO meeting with a prayer and then announced that:

1.) Every speaker would get 3-5 minutes of time to discuss whatever it was they were talking about
2.) Every speaker would be available after the meeting to answer any questions, soooo.....(and the next one was my favorite):
3.) No questions would be answered during the meeting

Oh, it was music to my ears. Sweeter words have never been spoken, at least not at a PTO meeting. I have never had a spouse available to put my kid (now kids) to bed, so every minute spent at a PTO meeting was a minute that my child was awake when she should have been asleep. So quick was good. Quick was very good. I did discover that Bella talks too much in class, and sometimes does not listen when she should, so we are working to put the kibosh on that.

We are having to adjust to a lot, all at once. The start of school. The ton of homework. My hours have been extended. Brian got moved to an overnight shift, working 8PM to 8AM four nights a week (and it SUCKS). Maw-Maw has been out of town (but coming back in a couple of weeks, much to Bella's relief). Auntie is getting ready to move (and Auntie has been Bella's babysitter pretty much since birth, so I'm expecting a pretty emotional departure). We are reeling, and it shows. My house is cluttered and mildly disgusting. I'm exhausted all the time. Things are kind of crazy, but I suppose eventually we will adjust. Life has been keeping us pretty busy. I'm desperately trying to incorporate some sort of schedule and routine in our lives, to get to some semblance of normalcy. We'll see.

I'm feeling a little hurried because I am babysitting my friend's three kids tonight while she has her 20-week ultrasound for her fourth child. But then I'm off work Thursday, so I can rest. Or frantically do housework to try and catch up on everything I've neglected the last week or two. Or three. Things are messy. I don't know what's required to have an area officially declared a disaster area by the government, but I could be close to qualifying.

And we are on Gustav watch - that horribly named tropical storm that's churning around and eyeballing the gulf coast. While the amount of time it takes for a hurricane to get near us is a wonderful thing, because it allows you to makes plans and/or get the heck out of dodge, it is maddening to have to wait. You can always tell when there's tropical weather looming, because almost every television you see is tuned to the weather channel. And every computer you pass is viewing the weather channel's website (as I am on my other tab, right now). And you talk about it, and hash it out, and discuss, and fret, and wonder at what point do you commence with all the time consuming preparations (plywood for the windows and whatnot), and it just becomes the very center of your world. We used to be in the very center of the projected path, but now we are a little further off center. I don't want anyone else to get hit, but I don't want us to get hit, either. Wish us luck!

Sleep (or lack thereof)

I have gone all Weissbluth on my baby again, opting to lovingly let him cry it out in the name of healthy sleep. For those unfamiliar: Dr. Weissbluth suggests putting your baby down at night, after soothing and stories and baths and snuggles, and leaving him there regardless of how long he might cry so that he learns to fall asleep on his own. I'm sure there are people out there who are aghast at the thought - I was, back when Bella was an infant, until she hit 12 months, and then I became a huge fan of the method. You have to be dedicated, and it really sucks sometimes, but it works.

Bubba has been a pretty bad sleeper from the get go, and I had been entertaining the notion of letting him cry it out for a while, but I had one really bad night (and I've had some pretty bad nights, so you know it had to be terrible) and it firmed up my resolve. Remember: formerly Bubba slept with me, and woke up twice during the night to eat and multiple, countless other times to fidget and cry and was restless and sometimes would wake up in the middle of the night and stay up for an hour or two and it was terrible and I was a zombie. Now Bubba takes a bath, and we snuggle and play a little and then I read him a story, give him lots of kisses, put him in his crib and close the door. He has a blue-tinted night light so he isn't in abject darkness. The results:

Saturday night: Went to bed at 8:30PM. Cried for fifteen minutes, then fell asleep. Slept through the night and awoke cheerily around 7AM Sunday morning. Hooray!
Sunday night: Went to bed at 8PM. Cried for thirty minutes, then fell asleep. Slept through the night and awoke cheerily at almost 8AM Monday morning. HOORAY!
Monday night: SIL's husband fed Bubba a entire sugar-free mocha-coffee flavored pudding cup. When confonted he said in his defense: "At least I scraped the coffee pudding layer off the top!" Oh, yes, because that makes it much better. Bubba spends his evening crying, throwing up and having terribly smelly things exploding out of his diaper. I call it a wash and just spent the night cleaning up all the fluids.
Tuesday night: Went to bed at 8PM. Cried for twenty minutes. Woke up at 5Am with a very snotty nose and stayed up, but that's OK - we all have allergies and I can sympathize.

So things are going along pretty smoothly. When I first did this with Bella she cried for two hours straight, so it could be so much worse. It's not the method for everyone, I know, but it has worked for my kids so far. He doesn't wake up emotionally scarred - he wakes up cooing and scooting around his crib, so I think he's alright.

Oh no she didn't

There has been some changes in my schedule at work lately - my hours were reduced (not at my request, but because of current economic conditions). Now I have the opportunity to get more hours, but the schedule I would be working would be odd. Money is tight for us right now - we have lots of medical bills from Bubba's arrival to pay, and a couple of years ago, as a result of being injured in an accident with an uninsured driver, Brian racked up a ton of credit card debt for medical expenses that he had to pay out of pocket. He was told at the time that he would be reimbursed but recently found out that he will not be. Add in the fact that Brian's timing belt broke and nicked a valve in the process and we just paid $1400 in unexpected car repairs, and yes, things are tight. We struggle to make Jacelyn's catholic school tuition but that is something we firmly believe in and will pay for as long as we can (we are zoned for a failing school, so if she went to a public school it would be one that's funding is being annually cut for under- performing, making it progressively worse on a yearly basis).

All that to say: I was talking to someone about it - I won't mention a name (rhymes with blister-in-law) - and she - this person whom I have known for years and years, this person who is my babysitter, this person whom I have lived with before and who knows me pretty well - she said: "Well, you are going to have to decide what is more important to you - money or spending time with your children". What? What an offensive and ridiculous thing to say.

Yes, I go to work to avoid spending time with my children and so I can have all those nice things I have: that 90's era VW that is slowly falling apart, the one where the air conditioner is slowly dying but only two of the windows will roll down, the one where the "check engine" light has been on for two weeks but I can't afford to take it anywhere to be repaired yet so I'm having to baby the car and not drive it anywhere that I don't have to. So we can live in a tiny two-bedroom apartment full of spiders and creepy lizards. I've haven't purchased a pair of shoes for myself in over a year. I don't buy things for me. I'm no martyr - if I need something I will get it, but it is a matter of need, not want.

I work so Bella can to go to catholic school and so we can have food on our table and so the hospital that delivered Bubba doesn't repossess him (although I'm fairly certain they would bring him back rather quickly). I work because some uninsured idiot from Georgia plowed into my husband and hurt him rather badly and now, thanks to some unscrupulous people who lied, we are in some pretty heavy debt. That is why I work - not because I put money ahead of my children, but because my children need food to eat and a roof over their heads. I would love to stay home with them, but it's just not an option for us right now.

Life is not that bad - we are a pretty happy little family, and we have all the things that we need. My car is a piece of crap, yes, but it is a car that gets me where I need to go, and that is all that matters. Our apartment sucks, but it keeps us snug and safe. I don't need new shoes right now, my old ones are fine. I am content with what I have (or don't have) but was just upset by the implication. The reality of my situation is that I have to work. The reality of her life is far different from the reality of my own, so maybe she couldn't see that her comment was offensive. Her reality is about to change, however, when she has her first child in February. Then maybe she won't be so quick to judge me. Or maybe she'll judge me even more, who knows. But: as a friend of mine reminds me all the time, I am doing the best job that I can, and that's all I can do. And, if in the process, someone misinterprets that, well, that just means she has waaaaaay too much time on her hands to think about my life.

It would be so easy to snark back at her, but I'm trying to be better than that. I will confess to typing and then deleting some less-than-nice comments and observations all throughout this post, but hey, I'm a work in progress. And I'm doing the best that I can.