Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Mother of the Year...Part 2

This evening I was doing something kind of rare...I was playing with my kids. Actually, it was more sitting on the bed which is set up in our playroom and watching Sam "clean up" while Charlie chilled on a little chair.

I bought this chair about a year ago for Sam. I found it on
http://www.woot.com/, which is a funny website to check and read every day just for the hell of it. I thought I scored this awesome deal on this adorable chair, and I could just picture Sam chillin' in it and reading her books before bed, or while we watched TV. As soon as we got it, we set it up in the living room.

She liked it OK, and used it mostly to put her baby on it, and take the baby off, and put it back on, and off...you get the picture. Occasionally, she would sit on it, and feed her baby a bottle. This was all pre-Charlie, while I was pregnant, but way before we decided to rock her world by telling her that a REAL baby was invading it and taking all of mom's attention. (Ironically, after we told her about Charlie, her own baby suddenly fell out of favor. Wonder why.)

So I was vacuuming one day, and she is doing her damndest to get in my way, so I picked her up and plopped her on her chair. And she stayed there, crying, but she stayed nonetheless. I was just happy to get all the shit off of the floor that stuck to my feet when I walked without having to constantly push a toddler out of my way. As I continued to vacuum, her cries continued, and possibly got louder, although I can't really be sure, since, you know, I was vacuuming. But she stayed on the chair.

In the meantime, Workaholic heard her cries and came out of the office to see what was going on. He leaned over the railing directly above her and laughed at how persistant she was being...with the crying and all, yet did not get off of the chair. I too, laughed, and we were both just amazed at how she wanted off that damn chair so badly, yet wouldn't get off because I had put her there. You know, so I could vacuum.

After I was done and turned off the oh-so-noisy machine, I realized just how loudly she had been yelling. And she had actual tears. And she was sort of standing on the chair now. Except she really couldn't stand, because her foot was stuck between the side of the chair and the cushion. Oopsy. So she wasn't staying on the chair out of some genuine, really deep respect for the mother who had put her there, she was stuck on the chair, which by now had become her own prison.

And she developed a deep hatred for that chair. For a while, we would pick on her by putting her baby or her beloved blanket on the chair just to see her cry and run and pick it up and scream "NO!" And then that just got boring and so the chair was banished to the basement. Her playroom was down there, but there was quite a bit of time where we just didn't have the time to hang out in the basement. So it has been out of sight, out of mind for a while.

Tonight, Sam stayed in her playroom while I went to get Charlie up from her nap. And when I came back, she was sitting in that chair, reading books. Just like I always pictured. And as soon as I walked in, she got off that damn chair before I could take a picture. So I put Charlie in the chair. Because damn it, one of my girls will like it.

I managed to take this picture of Charlie chillin' in the chair. She likes it. And Sam has gotten past her hatred enough to plop her baby next to Charlie and smile and giggle and say, "Cute!" But when I asked her to stand next to Charlie so I could get a picture of her and Charlie and the baby in the chair, the answer was a resounding "NO!" This is a girl who know what she likes, and doesn't like. At least she got past her fear of the chair.

Sunday, November 28, 2010


I need to simplify.

That is going to be my theme for 2011.

I don't know how it is going to work out.

7 years ago, Workaholic was deeply involved in building our house. He built it himself. With (LOTS) of help from his dad and brothers and various friends who he had helped to build their houses.

6 1/2 years ago, we moved into our house. We incurred some debt buying furniture. (And yes, we have paid it off.) Here is the thing about our house...it is pretty big. We have lots of rooms and closets that we thought we would never ever use when we built this house. I was very adamant that there was plenty of room to "store" things and enough space to make any woman happy. The intention was to sell the house after 2 years, we would never need all that room. I didn't worry too much about decorating, or hanging pictures on the walls, because there was no point, we wouldn't be there forever.

And suddenly, I find myself out of room. I don't understand, or even know how it happened. I suppose the 2 small children have contributed. And my frequent trips to the outlets mall, and online shopping too. And having a husband who doesn't believe in telling me "no" didn't help either.

But I look around my bedroom and see things that need to be "put away." I see things that I don't REALLY need. I see closets full of clothes that Workaholic forgot he owned, and so I keep buying him more. (see above regarding the outlet mall) I go into the girls' rooms and see clothes that they have already outgrown, even though I JUST took them out of storage. I go into my dining room...and then just turn around and walk out. I buy picture frames to hang up family photos and realize that I have no wall room left. I don't know how this happened.

I am not sure where we are going to put the 12 foot tall Christmas tree that my in-laws are handing down to us. There is baby stuff cluttering my living room...a baby swing, bouncy seat, toy chest, Bumbo seat, floor activity mat...not to mention the assortment of dog toys and children's books that are strewn daily across the floor.

I am used to leaving my house on the weekends, getting away, and forgetting all about the mess. Forgetting about my lack of organization, my knack for leaving things laying around, and the usually empty pantry and refrigerator. Going away is my saving grace, but also my downfall, as leaving your home during the time when most people get all their shit done is not very conducive to getting things done.

I am home this weekend. Workaholic got Thanksgiving Day off, but has been working ever since. Sometimes there are times like this, he gets close to the end of a job and it is crunch time. It is what it is. I should be using this time to pick up the house. Clean the clutter. Put away the Halloween costumes that have been staring at me for a month. Clean off the counters in the kitchen and wrap and hide Christmas presents. Now is not the time of year to be disorganized.

Perhaps I will. Maybe I'll finish writing this, watch the rest of the NCIS episode that is on USA, and go find an empty storage bin. Maybe I'll put away the laundry, vacuum the upstairs, and feed my girls dinner. Maybe I'll take a nap and hope that when I wake up, it is 2011...and someone else organized my life for me.

Either way, on this weekend of thanks, I'm going to stop feeling sorry for myself. I'm going to not wish that I didn't have a house that is too big for me to handle...no matter how much help I get. I'm going to feel grateful for my girls, and my Fonz, and my Workaholic, and for all the other wonderful things that I have in my life. Because if there is one thing that I have learned by living in this house for the past 6 1/2 years, is to count your blessings. When you are feeling overwhelmed, sometimes that is all you can do.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

I Miss Kate

Paige over at "Life is a Phoenix" got tagged to answer some questions, and then she made up her own questions and told us ( her readers) to answer them. And there is nothing I like more than being told to write something on my blog, so I don't have to come up with my own material, so I decided to actually follow her orders. Or suggestion, whatever.

1. Two parts of you are dueling. What parts? Who wins?

This is easy. My lazy part, the part that wants to lay in bed and watch TV, and the part that knows that I have a million and one things to do. Before I had kids, the lazy part won out. All. the. time. Now that I have kids, it doesn't win out as much anymore. In fact, my main issue with getting things done nowadays is that I forget that I have things to do until it is impossible for me to do them. Like, I am sitting at work and I remember that I need to pull out the level two nipples for Charlie's bottles. They are in the laundry room. But I can't do that while I am sitting in my cubicle. (excuse me while I go to the laundry room...as I am working from home today.)

2. Do you give inanimate objects names? Anything specific?

I usually don't do this. But there are a couple of things that do have names, and they are awesome. The first was our Tom-Tom, Kate. We named her Kate because that was the name of the voice that we chose. I think Kate was British. Anyway, you could make her say anything you wanted, and it would be triggered by something that a GPS recognizes, like a church or gas station. We once set it to say, "Hey Tyler, shut the fuck up" every time we drove past a gas station. While Tyler didn't think this was very funny, mainly because he usually WAS talking whenever we drove past a gas station, we thought it was pretty damn hilarious. There is nothing like having a Kate say what you are thinking when an 18 year old is talking about the coolest car he had ever seen.

The second thing was our printer at work. (think of the fax machine in Office Space) We got this awesome new machine about 4-5 years ago, at one of the busiest time of our company's history. At least in the accounting department. And the damn thing just couldn't keep up with us. We hated it so. One of my friends hated her mother-in-law about as much as the new machine, so we named it after her. Every once in a while, when it acts up, I still will pat it and say, "Come on Marge, you can do it." It likes to be talked to.

3. How restricted do you feel when you are blogging because you don't want to upset someone?

Let's put it this way. Just now, I debated on whether to tell you the name of our printer. Because if there is any chance that my friend's mother-in-law could find my blog, she would be upset. But I decided that probably wouldn't happen. I try not to talk shit about other people too much, because I don't think I'd like to be talked shit about. Which is why most of my posts are about myself, when I really started this blog to complain about other people. Ahh...how life evolves.

4. What do you like to read about most on other people's blogs?

One of the reasons I love Paige is because she writes about herself. She sometimes does these "random posts", where she just writes short thoughts of what is on her mind. In no particular order. I love that. I keep meaning to do it, but then the mommy-brain kicks in and I forget what I was going to write about and why. And since I am not pregnant anymore and am on happy drugs, I really don't have a whole lot to rant about. Which is kind of sad if you think about it. My rants are some of my best work. OH WAIT...the holidays are coming! I'm sure on Friday I'll have plenty to complain about.

This is the part where I am supposed to tag other people. I hate doing that. Mainly because if they choose not to participate, I feel like a loser. So, if you are reading this, and you have your own blog, answer Paige's questions! And leave your link in my comments section! Pretty please! I love learning about other people!!

Thursday, November 11, 2010

First Day

The past couple of weeks, I have been getting more and more nervous about returning to work. I lay awake at night dreaming of scenarios where I am being treated unfairly and how I will react. I find myself thinking about it during the day and rubbing my fingernail until it was shiny. And even when I am not specifically thinking of work, I still rub my fingernail, subconsciously, until it is even shinier.

And today was the day. My first day back in 13 weeks.

And you know what? It wasn't horrible.

I didn't get treated poorly. I was sugary sweet to anyone who dared to not welcome me back properly. I set up my new cubicle, and didn't complain that I can't hang anything on the wall because they don't want holes where tacks have been in their brand new drywall.

I ordered some office supplies, like a new trash can, because apparently mine didn't make it in the move. I put up pictures, and moved files, and set up my voicemail. And I also did a little bit of actual work!

When I got home, Sam was still napping and Charlie was happy as she could possibly be in her swing. I was able to eat dinner with Sam, bathe both of them, and put them to bed...all before Workaholic got home. There were no major fits or tantrums or meltdowns. I even put away some laundry.

It was a good day. I can only hope for more good days just like it.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

T Minus 24 Hours and Counting...

In 24 hours, I will be walking out of my house headed back to work for the first time in 13 weeks.

Am I nervous? Hell yeah.

For one, my company moved while I was on leave, so I am going to a completely new office. And the architect thought it would be funny to design the building like a mouse maze, so it takes a week to learn how to get around without getting lost.

Secondly, there were a lot of changes while I was gone, some good, some that will make my job...well, I'll have to work a bit harder. Which is OK, I'll be busy, and busy is good.

But the thing that I am the most nervous about is the office drama. I have been hiding in my house for the past 3 months. My last day at work it was close to 100 degrees outside, and the other day it snowed. So I have been totally self-involved and haven't cared about anyone except me and my kids. It is going to be weird to have to deal with strangers and answer their questions and try to get back into the swing of things, all while trying to keep my head down and not piss off the bosses. (Which I have had issues with before, so my concerns are legit.)

I have decided to take things one day at a time. The first thing I have to do is find my new cubicle without being late on my first day. (I am completely confident in the hands that will be taking care of the girls, so at least I don't have to worry about that. ) Once I find the new cube, I'll put up pictures, say hi to everyone who thought that I quit, and re-introduce myself to the working world. From there...I think I'll just wing it. Wish me luck!!

Thursday, November 4, 2010

The Happiest Place on Earth

A few weeks ago, Workaholic and I took our "maternity leave vacation" trip to Florida. When I was on leave with Sam, we went and visited our friends in Texas. They had all necessary baby equipment and traveling with just an 11 week old Sam was easy-peasy. Let's just say that traveling with a 21 month old Sam and 8 week old Charlie was NOT easy-peasy. (Can you say "close a tray table with four drinks on it???") Anyway, we went to the beach a couple of days and visited a local zoo. If you ask Sam about giraffes today, she will still say, "Mommy, cracker." Because mommy took away her cracker and gave it to that damn giraffe...who then tried to eat my shoulder. Then we hit the big kahuna...the only reason for really going to Florida (at least according to Workaholic)....DISNEY!! A few years ago, I swear I read something somewhere that said that Walt Disney had been a pedophile, and some guy wrote a book all about it, and that book would never get published because Disney bought the publisher who owned the book. I since have looked online for evidence that I didn't just dream this up, and CAN'T FIND ANYTHING. But of course, I can't get it out of my head.

So that past few years, I've had a love/hate relationship with Disney. I really hate the commercialism, the expensive crap you have to buy, the attitude they seem to promote that little girls need to be rescued by princes and that will make their lives whole. I hate the T-shirts with mouses all over them, the shoes with Cars on them , and how it costs $82 to get into one park. But I love their movies...The Little Mermaid, Lady and the Tramp, Beauty and the Beast, Dumbo. (Yes, I realize that most of the movies that I love promote the "needing a man to be happy" premise, but I can't help it.) And Workaholic loves Disney...it's the happiest place on Earth!! So away we went with Sam to the Magic Kingdom for a day.

And I have to say, my love with Disney is starting to grow again. Take a little kid there, and you will see it. The wonder and magic in their eyes. The squeals of all the little girls in the crowd when Tinkerbell flies from the top of the castle before the fireworks show at the end of the night. Sam is young enough that she didn't know if we skipped the ride It's a Small World because it was closed down, or if we missed one of the parades because mom and dad didn't feel like sitting in one place for 45 minutes to grab a good seat. She just sat back, took everything in, and generally was a good girl and didn't throw a single fit all day. By the end of the night, she just stared at the Electric Parade with a "what the hell is all of this awesome stuff?" look on her face. She waved at the characters when we told her to, and watched half of the fireworks before drifting off to a mouse-filled sleep. And her daddy and I did what I never thought I would do...bought a sketch of a Disney character from one of the shops to hang in her room. (Workaholic says it is OK because we actually bought it AT Disney, as opposed to someplace like Target.) Damn you Walt, you are making me believe again.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Day 14 ~ A Hero Who Has Let You Down

You know, I didn't really read past the first couple of days when I decided to do this 30 Days of Truth.

Because a hero? Who has let me down? Geez.

I consider all of my grandparents my heroes because they raised families during one of the most difficult times of our country's history. But unless you count dying as letting me down, they are still my heroes. Because lets face it, everyone dies.

Other than them, I don't really have heroes. I mean, there are people I admire, for sure. But those people are human, and they make mistakes just like everyone else, and I can't fault them for that.

I know that there are people out there who are heroes. Like the firefighters from 9/11. But I don't know any of them personally, so they definitely haven't let me down. And Capt. Sullenberger, who landed the plane on the Hudson River. My dad is a pilot, so I have an appreciation for what he did. Again though, I don't know him.

Maybe I did have a hero when I was a little kid who let me down. Maybe that is why I have such an aversion to calling someone my "hero". As much as I am trying to remember, I can't. But now that I think about it, I am sure that there was an adult who I idolized who let me down. It happens. For now, I think I'll keep all of my heroes limited to people who can't disappoint. Like Jesus. He seems like a pretty good guy to have as a hero. I think I'll stick with him.