I'd like to draw everyone's attention to the blogroll over there to the left. It's short, because I don't do that "You blogroll me, I'll blogroll you" stuff. I read other blogs (lots of other blogs - this whole blog thing is slowly taking over my life, but let's not go into that), because I like them or the person writing them; but, in an effort to keep the blogroll useful, I try to keep it short. Today I couldn't resist adding a new member - finslippy. I have no idea what that means, but she is breathtakingly, seemingly effortlessly funny. Enough so that I briefly considered throwing out my keyboard and never attempting to be even mildly amusing again.
But, I came to my senses. Some of us need to be willing to be second-rate. It makes everyone else feel good about themselves.
Anna hates me again (don't you love roller coaster rides?). I mean, it's been over 24 hours since I've done something for her, which is an almost intolerable situation to her befuddled teenage brain. She also hates David. He was standing in her general vicinity today, which annoyed her greatly.
She hated him when he was born, too. I remember holding him in my arms one day and Anna saying, "I hope you drop that baby and break his head." We used to regale her with that funny anecdote from time to time after she turned into a sweet little girl who wouldn't dream of saying anything like that about her little brother. But, nowadays, the story seems just a tad too realistic to be amusing.
Susie spent over an hour screaming this afternoon because she needed a nap and I wouldn't give her one because then she wouldn't go to sleep in the evening and I would start hating my life. Tolerating tantrums is exhausting. But I prefer 2-year-old tantrums to 14-year-old ones.
Truth? You want the truth? I wouldn't be posting today if it weren't that NaBloPoMo made me. Nothing happened today. Larry took the car to the garage, so we couldn't even go out. It ended up costing us a thousand dollars to get it back, so now I can't even afford to go out.
In my attempt to ingest as many carb goodies as possible before I head back to Weight Watchers in January, I baked bread this afternoon and I let David make cookies; that was probably good for another pound or two. My jeans finally arrived from Lands End, but I'm scared to try them on, as they probably won't be quite, um, roomy enough at this point.
I got stuck doing all the dishes tonight. I think we broke a family record by using almost all the pots and pans today. I'm talking 3 cookie sheets, 3 mixing bowls, 6-qt pot, 12-qt pot, 3-qt steamer, square pyrex pan, and the colander. Oh, and 4 loaf pans. The pile in the sink when I came downstairs after the meal was almost breathtaking. You would think that after 16 years I wouldn't find this situation that remarkable, but I guess my youthful capacity for wonder remains undiminished.
Minutiae, folks, that's all you're getting here tonight - the stultifying minutiae of an average suburban mom's life. Scary, isn't it? Maybe the educational powers that be should use this blog in high school sex ed classes as a powerful motivator to use birth control. I can see the poster now: "Do You Want Your Life to Turn Out as Banal as This?" or "Condoms Can Prevent Things Even Scarier Than STD's."
Showing posts with label teenagers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teenagers. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Monday, September 03, 2007
She Loves Me (Not!)
What Anna (my chronically alienated teenage daughter who used to be the sweetest girl in the whole world and still is deep down inside somewhere) deems to be my fault:
1. When she's tired because she stayed up way too late and then had to get up before the crack of noon
2. Any day that her neighborhood friend is not around to hang out with
3. When she has to go to the doctor because she has given herself a puncture wound while doing dishes
4. Her beloved flute teacher's falling ill and cancelling a lesson
5. That life doesn't consist of doing whatever she wants, when she wants.
I have to work on all that, I guess.
She did like us briefly a few nights ago when she was scared silly by a bat that somehow got down our chimney and was zooming around our living room. Though I must say that her shriek (which woke us up) should have been enough to turn my hair white. Larry took care of the problem, while Anna and I barricaded ourselves in the bedroom. You know, if it's retro to feel that the guy has to take care of all bugs, rodents (flying and otherwise), and any other type of household intruder, then just call me old-fashioned, all right? I sat up in that room and listened to Larry chasing the bat all over the main floor of the house and thanked my lucky stars that I'm of the female persuasion. (And he did get rid of it - he managed to chase it out of the house with a laundry basket. See? I never would have thought of that.)
1. When she's tired because she stayed up way too late and then had to get up before the crack of noon
2. Any day that her neighborhood friend is not around to hang out with
3. When she has to go to the doctor because she has given herself a puncture wound while doing dishes
4. Her beloved flute teacher's falling ill and cancelling a lesson
5. That life doesn't consist of doing whatever she wants, when she wants.
I have to work on all that, I guess.
She did like us briefly a few nights ago when she was scared silly by a bat that somehow got down our chimney and was zooming around our living room. Though I must say that her shriek (which woke us up) should have been enough to turn my hair white. Larry took care of the problem, while Anna and I barricaded ourselves in the bedroom. You know, if it's retro to feel that the guy has to take care of all bugs, rodents (flying and otherwise), and any other type of household intruder, then just call me old-fashioned, all right? I sat up in that room and listened to Larry chasing the bat all over the main floor of the house and thanked my lucky stars that I'm of the female persuasion. (And he did get rid of it - he managed to chase it out of the house with a laundry basket. See? I never would have thought of that.)
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
General Juvenile Behavior
Saturday was shaping up to be a good day until one of our neighbor's very sweet 4-year-olds suffered a blunt force trauma to the head, an injury which was, unfortunately, inflicted by my Brian in our basement. It didn't help that I didn't know which twin it was (nothing like shouting at a bleeding 4-year-old, "Who are you?!" while running to get his mother). Brian claims it was an accident (by-product of a pillow fight), and fortunately the victim's older sister corroborates his story. Whew. I'd hate to have to move again.
Larry and I went out for dinner that night to a "real" restaurant (meaning we didn't have to stand up to order our food). I spent the evening trying not to be grossed out by the fact that we unfortunately had a front row view of the butt crack (excuse my wording - I can't think of a polite way to say that) of some teenager sitting at the table next to us with a bunch of his friends. I would like to say in this underdressed teenager's defense, however, that he had good enough manners to put his napkin in his lap while he ate. Now if he could have just draped it behind him instead....
I decided that yesterday would be a pleasant stay-at-home day. Unfortunately, I forgot that the children would be there too. You know, the longer I'm a parent, the more I start thinking that "Children should be seen and not heard" is a really good idea. The little creatures whine and cry a lot. In a sudden fit of insanity, I decided to be a super-nice mommy and bake cookies with them in the afternoon; the first 5 minutes, Rachel screamed because we were making oatmeal raisin. The next few minutes, Susie screamed because Brian was mixing and she wasn't. Then Brian spent a while sobbing because Rachel (who had gotten over her disappointment) and Susie (likewise) were stirring in the wet ingredients without him. Then they all cried because I came to my senses and threw them out of the kitchen and put the dough on the cookie sheets myself.
Mealtimes are no better. If Susie doesn't like something that she has put into her mouth, she can't just spit it out onto her plate. She has to hold it in her hand and then scream at me until I take the masticated, spit-filled item from her personally. Besotted as I am with her, I still don't find this behavior charming. And for some reason, Rachel is unable to sit down at table for a meal without automatically whining about something on her plate. Brian pouts and whimpers if we expect him to eat anything that does not fall into the category of meat and potatoes, while Anna complains about everyone else's eating habits. We can't even invite anyone over for dinner - it's that embarrassing. I can't tape their mouths shut, because then they couldn't get the food in. IV feeding for the whole family is looking better and better to me.
There - have I complained enough? We're getting summer cabin fever here. And it's predicted to be in the 90's all week. The only saving grace this summer has been the kids' obsession with jigsaw puzzles - the real ones, the 1000-piece kind. I think we've done 4 already. They're sort of addictive. And Susie helps to make them even more challenging by taking apart the pieces when we're not looking. And throwing them back into the box. It's a good thing she's still cute.
Anna's birthday is coming up, and we're not sure what to get her. What does one get for the girl who hates everything? Or, at least, everything to do with us? Larry figures he may surprise her by giving her her bedroom door back. She slammed it one too many times a few weeks ago, and he snapped. I think it's in the attic now. I don't know - I'm staying out of this one.
Theo is heading back home next week, and I, for one, am looking forward to it. We've been eating so much dairy while he was gone that I've gained another 5 pounds. Talk about too much of a good thing.
Wow - I can't believe we still have all of August to endure down here in the semi-tropics. The mosquitoes are just starting to come out in force (they got a late start this year - sometimes a drought can be a good thing), my garden's dead, and Larry doesn't take me seriously when I tell him that what this family needs is a summer house on Martha's Vineyard. Or Nantucket. Everyone needs a change of pace every once in a while, is my thinking. Larry's thinking probably runs more along the lines of "Wives - they'll spend whatever you make." Well, yes - boredom will do that. It would be a little less boring around here if either one of us could figure out how to set up our DVD player - ever since the move, it's just been sitting there, defying all our attempts to get both sound and picture at once. I suggested that we just buy a new one. But Larry just got that look on his face again - you know, the one that says, "Wives...."
It's late - I have to post this before it becomes August, now don't I? Good-night, all.
Larry and I went out for dinner that night to a "real" restaurant (meaning we didn't have to stand up to order our food). I spent the evening trying not to be grossed out by the fact that we unfortunately had a front row view of the butt crack (excuse my wording - I can't think of a polite way to say that) of some teenager sitting at the table next to us with a bunch of his friends. I would like to say in this underdressed teenager's defense, however, that he had good enough manners to put his napkin in his lap while he ate. Now if he could have just draped it behind him instead....
I decided that yesterday would be a pleasant stay-at-home day. Unfortunately, I forgot that the children would be there too. You know, the longer I'm a parent, the more I start thinking that "Children should be seen and not heard" is a really good idea. The little creatures whine and cry a lot. In a sudden fit of insanity, I decided to be a super-nice mommy and bake cookies with them in the afternoon; the first 5 minutes, Rachel screamed because we were making oatmeal raisin. The next few minutes, Susie screamed because Brian was mixing and she wasn't. Then Brian spent a while sobbing because Rachel (who had gotten over her disappointment) and Susie (likewise) were stirring in the wet ingredients without him. Then they all cried because I came to my senses and threw them out of the kitchen and put the dough on the cookie sheets myself.
Mealtimes are no better. If Susie doesn't like something that she has put into her mouth, she can't just spit it out onto her plate. She has to hold it in her hand and then scream at me until I take the masticated, spit-filled item from her personally. Besotted as I am with her, I still don't find this behavior charming. And for some reason, Rachel is unable to sit down at table for a meal without automatically whining about something on her plate. Brian pouts and whimpers if we expect him to eat anything that does not fall into the category of meat and potatoes, while Anna complains about everyone else's eating habits. We can't even invite anyone over for dinner - it's that embarrassing. I can't tape their mouths shut, because then they couldn't get the food in. IV feeding for the whole family is looking better and better to me.
There - have I complained enough? We're getting summer cabin fever here. And it's predicted to be in the 90's all week. The only saving grace this summer has been the kids' obsession with jigsaw puzzles - the real ones, the 1000-piece kind. I think we've done 4 already. They're sort of addictive. And Susie helps to make them even more challenging by taking apart the pieces when we're not looking. And throwing them back into the box. It's a good thing she's still cute.
Anna's birthday is coming up, and we're not sure what to get her. What does one get for the girl who hates everything? Or, at least, everything to do with us? Larry figures he may surprise her by giving her her bedroom door back. She slammed it one too many times a few weeks ago, and he snapped. I think it's in the attic now. I don't know - I'm staying out of this one.
Theo is heading back home next week, and I, for one, am looking forward to it. We've been eating so much dairy while he was gone that I've gained another 5 pounds. Talk about too much of a good thing.
Wow - I can't believe we still have all of August to endure down here in the semi-tropics. The mosquitoes are just starting to come out in force (they got a late start this year - sometimes a drought can be a good thing), my garden's dead, and Larry doesn't take me seriously when I tell him that what this family needs is a summer house on Martha's Vineyard. Or Nantucket. Everyone needs a change of pace every once in a while, is my thinking. Larry's thinking probably runs more along the lines of "Wives - they'll spend whatever you make." Well, yes - boredom will do that. It would be a little less boring around here if either one of us could figure out how to set up our DVD player - ever since the move, it's just been sitting there, defying all our attempts to get both sound and picture at once. I suggested that we just buy a new one. But Larry just got that look on his face again - you know, the one that says, "Wives...."
It's late - I have to post this before it becomes August, now don't I? Good-night, all.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Of Kids and Zucchinis
I was having one of those lovely moments with my 2 little girls the other day. I actually forgot about the housework and the unpacking (yes, we're still living with boxes all around) and sat down to just cuddle them in the armchair. Lovely...until Rachel affectionately confided in me, "Mommy, you look just like a grandma!" This move is taking its toll, apparently.
Larry just returned from yet another working retreat. He had a bag of potato chips and a bag of pretzels in his luggage. "Oh, we just had a little party," he claims innocently.
Now he is up in the attic attempting to install some space-age-looking radiant something-or-other that is supposed to lower the heat in the attic by thirty degrees. Looks like a big roll of tinfoil to me. David's eyeing it jealously - I think he wants to use it to build a space shuttle.
I sure hope Theo remembers to return from camp. No one here has had a decent meal since he left. I just keep throwing some form of bread and cheese at the hungry hordes (pizza, quesadillas, grilled cheese) and they stay happy. This can't be healthy. Theo reports that all is quiet at camp, aside from various unexplained fires - including one melted toilet seat in the campers' latrine. I'd like to point out that girl scout camps do not have this problem. Girl Scouts only light fires to cook s'mores.
In case anyone is wondering how the garden is doing this year, I was wondering the same thing. Somehow, I haven't found time in the past month or so to go check on it (yes, it's only half a mile down the road - but multiply that by several children and it makes it much farther). Anyway, since today was predicted to be in the 90's, I decided that it would be a great time to mosey on down (with the 4 youngest in tow - Larry was working) and see if anything was still alive. We found the tomatoes desperately trying to bear fruit while being strangled by morning-glory vines, the basil throwing in the towel and going to seed, and the zucchini thriving on the neglect (are we sure zucchini aren't weeds?). I immediately threw myself into trying to rescue the tomato plants while urging the children to go for water (and hurry!), for all the world as if I were a trained EMT happening upon a train wreck. (That might make a good TV show for hapless gardeners like me - Gardener 911 or Plant EMT.) The kids were extremely excited to discover the 4 baseball-bat-sized zucchini in the plot. We ended up spending almost an hour there (Susie only cried for the last 30 minutes or so), and I think we managed to convince the basil to hang in there and we propped up the thirsty, traumatized tomatoes and we gave everyone a good drink. So maybe we'll have a successful summer - if I ever make it back there again. Stay tuned...
I get to host the neighborhood Bunko club here tomorrow night. Yes, I'm turning our new house into a suburban gambling den. I hope everyone likes the stacked-boxes look - it's the latest thing in interior decorating...and so inexpensive!
Anna hates me. Oh, but you knew that already. So did I, actually. But she keeps repeating it to me, so I thought I would repeat it to you.
That's all my addled brain can remember to report - someone out there write to me - I want to know what people with normal lives are doing.
Larry just returned from yet another working retreat. He had a bag of potato chips and a bag of pretzels in his luggage. "Oh, we just had a little party," he claims innocently.
Now he is up in the attic attempting to install some space-age-looking radiant something-or-other that is supposed to lower the heat in the attic by thirty degrees. Looks like a big roll of tinfoil to me. David's eyeing it jealously - I think he wants to use it to build a space shuttle.
I sure hope Theo remembers to return from camp. No one here has had a decent meal since he left. I just keep throwing some form of bread and cheese at the hungry hordes (pizza, quesadillas, grilled cheese) and they stay happy. This can't be healthy. Theo reports that all is quiet at camp, aside from various unexplained fires - including one melted toilet seat in the campers' latrine. I'd like to point out that girl scout camps do not have this problem. Girl Scouts only light fires to cook s'mores.
In case anyone is wondering how the garden is doing this year, I was wondering the same thing. Somehow, I haven't found time in the past month or so to go check on it (yes, it's only half a mile down the road - but multiply that by several children and it makes it much farther). Anyway, since today was predicted to be in the 90's, I decided that it would be a great time to mosey on down (with the 4 youngest in tow - Larry was working) and see if anything was still alive. We found the tomatoes desperately trying to bear fruit while being strangled by morning-glory vines, the basil throwing in the towel and going to seed, and the zucchini thriving on the neglect (are we sure zucchini aren't weeds?). I immediately threw myself into trying to rescue the tomato plants while urging the children to go for water (and hurry!), for all the world as if I were a trained EMT happening upon a train wreck. (That might make a good TV show for hapless gardeners like me - Gardener 911 or Plant EMT.) The kids were extremely excited to discover the 4 baseball-bat-sized zucchini in the plot. We ended up spending almost an hour there (Susie only cried for the last 30 minutes or so), and I think we managed to convince the basil to hang in there and we propped up the thirsty, traumatized tomatoes and we gave everyone a good drink. So maybe we'll have a successful summer - if I ever make it back there again. Stay tuned...
I get to host the neighborhood Bunko club here tomorrow night. Yes, I'm turning our new house into a suburban gambling den. I hope everyone likes the stacked-boxes look - it's the latest thing in interior decorating...and so inexpensive!
Anna hates me. Oh, but you knew that already. So did I, actually. But she keeps repeating it to me, so I thought I would repeat it to you.
That's all my addled brain can remember to report - someone out there write to me - I want to know what people with normal lives are doing.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Happy Father's Day!
I managed to be the first in the family to wish Larry a Happy Father's Day, as Susie decided to wake us up at 4 this morning by puking in our bed. Being seasoned parents, our reflexes kicked in immediately - Larry leapt out of bed and started throwing towels at me to try to minimize the damage, while I traumatized the throw-up-ee by trying to clean her up while holding her at arm's length. While we were stripping the sheets off the bed, I commented that it was just as well - I was going to wash the bed linens today anyway. Larry responded with "Cool! That's just perfect! I'm glad this happened then!" Some people are sort of sarcastic when they're woken up too early, don't you think? So I let him sleep in a bit (all the way 'til 7) while I took Susie downstairs until she fell asleep in my arms an hour or so later. I hope Larry didn't expect a present on top of that.
While I was sitting there, martyring myself by forgoing sleep, I realized that today is the 17th anniversary of the day that Larry and I met. I resisted the urge to wake him up just to tell him. Sometimes I am able to act somewhat mature, you know. But sitting up with the baby gave me time to ponder, "Gee, if I could have foreseen this day 17 years ago, would I have acted differently?" Of course not. I mean, I don't think so. When Larry did wake up, I had to ask him the same question. "Would you have acted differently? Would you have run like hell?" His answer, of course, was, "Certainly not." That man hasn't been married all these years for nothing, you know. He knows the right answer, even when he's barely awake.
Theo has run away from home to spend the summer working at Boy Scout camp. I hope he decides to come back. Someone has to cook dinner around here. Larry took him down there on Saturday; so I got to spend all day amusing the little ones (with not too much help from Anna, who was not at all pleased on Friday to learn that she would not be returning to public school next year). Anna was shocked, shocked, to learn that her behavior was nowhere close to meeting our expectations these past 9 months - apparently, we were speaking Urdu all those times that we warned her to shape up.
The new house is a mess - full of boxes of camping gear, handyman tools, and I don't know what-all. Someday we'll get the attic planked over and be able to hide this stuff up there; in the meantime, however, this house feels smaller than the old one. But we're paying more for it. Which isn't a good feeling. The new windows arrive tomorrow (thanks, Grandpa!) - so Larry had to spend a lot of time today moving the boxes around to provide access for the window installers. He's not really been having the best of Father's Days, I guess. Tough. This move was all his idea anyway.
My birthday is coming up this week, which provides me with a nice excuse to sit around and eat bon-bons all day (and no, that's not what I do normally - normally, I sit around and yell at the kids all day). I'm not exactly expecting a present from Anna, though. Maybe she'll decide to refrain for the day from telling me how much she hates me. That would be nice.
While I was sitting there, martyring myself by forgoing sleep, I realized that today is the 17th anniversary of the day that Larry and I met. I resisted the urge to wake him up just to tell him. Sometimes I am able to act somewhat mature, you know. But sitting up with the baby gave me time to ponder, "Gee, if I could have foreseen this day 17 years ago, would I have acted differently?" Of course not. I mean, I don't think so. When Larry did wake up, I had to ask him the same question. "Would you have acted differently? Would you have run like hell?" His answer, of course, was, "Certainly not." That man hasn't been married all these years for nothing, you know. He knows the right answer, even when he's barely awake.
Theo has run away from home to spend the summer working at Boy Scout camp. I hope he decides to come back. Someone has to cook dinner around here. Larry took him down there on Saturday; so I got to spend all day amusing the little ones (with not too much help from Anna, who was not at all pleased on Friday to learn that she would not be returning to public school next year). Anna was shocked, shocked, to learn that her behavior was nowhere close to meeting our expectations these past 9 months - apparently, we were speaking Urdu all those times that we warned her to shape up.
The new house is a mess - full of boxes of camping gear, handyman tools, and I don't know what-all. Someday we'll get the attic planked over and be able to hide this stuff up there; in the meantime, however, this house feels smaller than the old one. But we're paying more for it. Which isn't a good feeling. The new windows arrive tomorrow (thanks, Grandpa!) - so Larry had to spend a lot of time today moving the boxes around to provide access for the window installers. He's not really been having the best of Father's Days, I guess. Tough. This move was all his idea anyway.
My birthday is coming up this week, which provides me with a nice excuse to sit around and eat bon-bons all day (and no, that's not what I do normally - normally, I sit around and yell at the kids all day). I'm not exactly expecting a present from Anna, though. Maybe she'll decide to refrain for the day from telling me how much she hates me. That would be nice.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Obsessions
It's been a month of obsessions and consuming passions here, folks.
Larry and I are, unfortunately, obsessed with home improvement. We had to fix up this dump we call home to sell it; and now that it is sold (ta-da! we did it! boy are we lucky...), we get to fix up the next place. Anything to keep the economy strong and growing...
Larry actually stayed up all night one night last week to paint. Believe me, he is way too old to do that. My favorite part of getting the house ready to sell was scrubbing the grout on the kitchen floor night after night after night. It paid off, though. Our house was on the market for only 4 days. I know I couldn't have lasted much longer. It felt like boot camp around here. I'd jump out of bed in the morning, make all the beds, sweep and swiffer all the floors, wipe down all the bathrooms, hide the dirty laundry, and finally, 2 hours later, look around to try to find the kids. I'd spend the rest of the day making sure they stayed outside. I even fed them out there. They had a great time, of course (aside from dealing with a crazy mother) - we kept picking up food from Wendy's or Chick-Fil-A (thanks, Grandpa) rather than risk dirtying our pristine kitchen.
Anyway, someone came through during the weekend and really liked the house. Really. I mean, I like my house, of course - it's mine. 2 of my babies were born here. Lots of memories are here. But for the life of me, I have no idea what this perfect stranger saw here that made him want to offer us full price in a buyer's market. But he did. And we jumped at it. Because money does talk.
Brian is obsessed with tornadoes and earthquakes. Only tornadoes and earthquakes, however - I offered him a book about hurricanes (hey, a disaster is a disaster is a disaster, right?), and he said to me, in all seriousness, "Oh, I don't do hurricanes." Okay.
Anyway, he is particularly obsessed with tornadoes. I came inside from a walk the other day and found him along with several neighborhood kids crouching in our basement. Seems that Brian assessed the weather conditions as "threatening" and advised everyone to take shelter.
And yes, he loves the Weather Channel Online. He can't get enough of it.
Anna is obsessed with the fact that she hates all of us and that we will not let her grow up and do whatever she wants. Because that's what being a grown-up means, according to her addled teenage reasoning. And the only reason that Larry and I don't get to do whatever we want is because we are losers. Because that's what she's going to do when she grows up. Whatever she wants. And she wants us to stop blaming her for everything. I don't know who we are supposed to point the finger at when her bed goes unmade (we've been showing the house, remember?) or when her teacher says she was unprepared for class, but it is most emphatically not her fault. And the dent she put in the dishwasher when she slammed the stool into it in a fit of pique the night before our Open House? That wasn't her fault either. She didn't do it.
Someone's insane here, and I don't think it's me. But what do I know? I'm a loser.
Theo is obsessed with finishing up his 9th-grade work so he can get the heck out of here on June 16th. I don't blame him. He's disappointed that our moving date is prior to his departure; but that's too bad. Someone has to move all this furniture.
David is still obsessed with airplanes. He can't understand why we cannot keep every blessed duct tape-craftstick airplane model he has ever made. But the new house just isn't that big. Sorry.
Rachel has taught herself how to whistle. We are very grateful that she has a new, non-destructive hobby. We encourage it. She also practices "writing" every chance she gets. We stumble across pieces of paper with what can only be described as chicken scratch all over them. Theo thinks she's channeling destructive suggestions from the underworld, a theory I pooh-poohed until we came across a piece of paper with a crude drawing of a toilet (I am not making this up) with a frowny face next to it. We're thinking of sending her up to Grandma and Grandpa until we get this house off our hands.
And Susie - she's obsessed with talking. She imitates every word we say, which is cute unless she witnesses one of Anna's tantrums.
And me - I'm obsessed with getting at least 5 hours of sleep a night. So I am going to bed. Sweet dreams!
Larry and I are, unfortunately, obsessed with home improvement. We had to fix up this dump we call home to sell it; and now that it is sold (ta-da! we did it! boy are we lucky...), we get to fix up the next place. Anything to keep the economy strong and growing...
Larry actually stayed up all night one night last week to paint. Believe me, he is way too old to do that. My favorite part of getting the house ready to sell was scrubbing the grout on the kitchen floor night after night after night. It paid off, though. Our house was on the market for only 4 days. I know I couldn't have lasted much longer. It felt like boot camp around here. I'd jump out of bed in the morning, make all the beds, sweep and swiffer all the floors, wipe down all the bathrooms, hide the dirty laundry, and finally, 2 hours later, look around to try to find the kids. I'd spend the rest of the day making sure they stayed outside. I even fed them out there. They had a great time, of course (aside from dealing with a crazy mother) - we kept picking up food from Wendy's or Chick-Fil-A (thanks, Grandpa) rather than risk dirtying our pristine kitchen.
Anyway, someone came through during the weekend and really liked the house. Really. I mean, I like my house, of course - it's mine. 2 of my babies were born here. Lots of memories are here. But for the life of me, I have no idea what this perfect stranger saw here that made him want to offer us full price in a buyer's market. But he did. And we jumped at it. Because money does talk.
Brian is obsessed with tornadoes and earthquakes. Only tornadoes and earthquakes, however - I offered him a book about hurricanes (hey, a disaster is a disaster is a disaster, right?), and he said to me, in all seriousness, "Oh, I don't do hurricanes." Okay.
Anyway, he is particularly obsessed with tornadoes. I came inside from a walk the other day and found him along with several neighborhood kids crouching in our basement. Seems that Brian assessed the weather conditions as "threatening" and advised everyone to take shelter.
And yes, he loves the Weather Channel Online. He can't get enough of it.
Anna is obsessed with the fact that she hates all of us and that we will not let her grow up and do whatever she wants. Because that's what being a grown-up means, according to her addled teenage reasoning. And the only reason that Larry and I don't get to do whatever we want is because we are losers. Because that's what she's going to do when she grows up. Whatever she wants. And she wants us to stop blaming her for everything. I don't know who we are supposed to point the finger at when her bed goes unmade (we've been showing the house, remember?) or when her teacher says she was unprepared for class, but it is most emphatically not her fault. And the dent she put in the dishwasher when she slammed the stool into it in a fit of pique the night before our Open House? That wasn't her fault either. She didn't do it.
Someone's insane here, and I don't think it's me. But what do I know? I'm a loser.
Theo is obsessed with finishing up his 9th-grade work so he can get the heck out of here on June 16th. I don't blame him. He's disappointed that our moving date is prior to his departure; but that's too bad. Someone has to move all this furniture.
David is still obsessed with airplanes. He can't understand why we cannot keep every blessed duct tape-craftstick airplane model he has ever made. But the new house just isn't that big. Sorry.
Rachel has taught herself how to whistle. We are very grateful that she has a new, non-destructive hobby. We encourage it. She also practices "writing" every chance she gets. We stumble across pieces of paper with what can only be described as chicken scratch all over them. Theo thinks she's channeling destructive suggestions from the underworld, a theory I pooh-poohed until we came across a piece of paper with a crude drawing of a toilet (I am not making this up) with a frowny face next to it. We're thinking of sending her up to Grandma and Grandpa until we get this house off our hands.
And Susie - she's obsessed with talking. She imitates every word we say, which is cute unless she witnesses one of Anna's tantrums.
And me - I'm obsessed with getting at least 5 hours of sleep a night. So I am going to bed. Sweet dreams!
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Veni, Vici, Regurgitati
Well, Larry, apparently desperate for some R and R, hightailed it out of here last week to go to some sort of "working retreat." Yeah, right...one of these days I'm going to go on a working retreat...with all my girlfriends. We'll get together at some nice hotel and talk about our favorite brand of diapers and where to get the cheapest toilet paper and how does one get vomit stains out of comforters, for all of 5 minutes, maybe...and then we'll goof off for the next 3 days.
All I can say is thank heaven for teenage boys. While Larry was gone, Theo managed to catch no less than 3 mice (and one, um, extra(?) tail...yuck), including the obviously stupid mouse that decided to run around our livingroom one evening. That incident only exacerbated my feelings of spousal abandonment, of course. But we got Larry back for his desertion - Rachel started throwing up almost the minute he walked in the door. (Warning: non-parents may want to exit now - graphic descriptions follow) For some reason, despite my battle-hardened attitude to all forms of vomit, this incident was particularly gross. I don't think we'll ever have salisbury steak again. Rachel threw up again later, in her sleep, while we were downstairs watching a movie (we were rather desperately searching for some comic relief). The movie was Ghostbusters, as a matter of fact. Theo and Anna had never seen it, so it was fun watching it again with them. Of course, Larry and I found ourselves explaining a lot of items that were rendered confusing by the passage of 20-plus years. Remember the opening scene, where the librarian is spooked by the cards flying from the card catalogs? We had to explain what those were. We also noted, among other things, an "old-fashioned" computer on the secretary's desk, an old-fashioned phone (touchtone with a cord), and the weirdness of the protagonists' lack of cellphones. I thought I would end up reliving my youth by watching the movie; instead, I went to bed feeling a hundred years old.
Where was I? Oh, yes - Rachel threw up in her sleep. I went upstairs to check on her and found her slumbering soundly in a pool of vomit. It was so disgusting (how disgusting was it, Karen?)...it was so disgusting that I had to get a pair of scissors and cut her out of her pajama shirt, rather than pull it over her head. Isn't that nice? Just what she needed - more scissor ideas...anyway, I stripped her, stripped her bed, showered the puke out of her hair, remade the bed, dressed her in fresh jammies, tucked her in, gave her a few sips of flat ginger ale (all the while thinking, you know, that you can't pay anyone enough to do these things), and then...she threw up again. As I said, you can't pay anyone enough....
Susie barfed all over our bed soon after we finally got to sleep. By this point, Larry was looking so miserable that he was dismissed to go to bed wherever he could find a vomit-free place to lay his head. Misery loves company, but he did have to get up in the morning and go to his Naval Reserve drill. I sat up and held the baby by the computer until she fell asleep. Just when it looked safe to try to put her in her crib (no way she was going in my bed again), she woke up and threw up all over me. By this time, for those of you keeping track, I had approximately 16000 loads of puke-soaked bed linens and clothes stacked up in front of the washer, no clean pajamas left for me or baby and no spare clean blankets. The weekend wasn't shaping up too well, it was clear. I spent all of Saturday just trying to catch up on the laundry - and need I mention that by then I was also suffering from this lovely ailment? And can you believe Larry didn't even call me during the day to check up on us? Coward.
So - Larry got home from work Saturday evening and I convinced him that we needed to go out for a short, refreshing date (obviously, a trademark of parents of large families is irrational optimism). We told Anna to watch the baby for an hour and a half, and she immediately blew up and said she had too much to do and we had no right to make her babysit. Opting for a tactical retreat, we took the baby with us and fed her french fries (this was a dumb idea) and tried to pretend we were not too tired to enjoy each other's company. Then baby threw up and we had to beat a hasty retreat (a lot of retreating that evening); I vaguely remember Larry throwing a bunch of money at the waiter and grabbing the puke-covered baby and dashing out the door, while I was still messing around trying to soak up the vomit on the table with a stack of paper napkins.
We didn't let Anna get away with her mutiny, of course. She actually told Theo after we left, "See? Mom knew I was right," and then she sat down and played a computer game for a while. Funny how the next morning, when she wanted to go out and get away from us, she couldn't find her shoes. It's my version of house arrest, that missing-shoes trick. She threatened to stay in bed all day and I told her to go ahead. At least I don't have to see her glaring at me all day that way.
There! I'm sure by now I've convinced any of you who are childless (and still reading) to remain happily unblessed by offspring. See? Even though I have six children, I'm still doing my part to keep the total world population from skyrocketing out of control. So you can stop begrudging me that $6,000 child tax credit, all right? I've earned it, dammit.
You know, maybe it's time to get to bed before someone else gets sick - that way, I can pretend to be asleep and Larry will have to deal with it. Yes, an excellent idea - good night!
All I can say is thank heaven for teenage boys. While Larry was gone, Theo managed to catch no less than 3 mice (and one, um, extra(?) tail...yuck), including the obviously stupid mouse that decided to run around our livingroom one evening. That incident only exacerbated my feelings of spousal abandonment, of course. But we got Larry back for his desertion - Rachel started throwing up almost the minute he walked in the door. (Warning: non-parents may want to exit now - graphic descriptions follow) For some reason, despite my battle-hardened attitude to all forms of vomit, this incident was particularly gross. I don't think we'll ever have salisbury steak again. Rachel threw up again later, in her sleep, while we were downstairs watching a movie (we were rather desperately searching for some comic relief). The movie was Ghostbusters, as a matter of fact. Theo and Anna had never seen it, so it was fun watching it again with them. Of course, Larry and I found ourselves explaining a lot of items that were rendered confusing by the passage of 20-plus years. Remember the opening scene, where the librarian is spooked by the cards flying from the card catalogs? We had to explain what those were. We also noted, among other things, an "old-fashioned" computer on the secretary's desk, an old-fashioned phone (touchtone with a cord), and the weirdness of the protagonists' lack of cellphones. I thought I would end up reliving my youth by watching the movie; instead, I went to bed feeling a hundred years old.
Where was I? Oh, yes - Rachel threw up in her sleep. I went upstairs to check on her and found her slumbering soundly in a pool of vomit. It was so disgusting (how disgusting was it, Karen?)...it was so disgusting that I had to get a pair of scissors and cut her out of her pajama shirt, rather than pull it over her head. Isn't that nice? Just what she needed - more scissor ideas...anyway, I stripped her, stripped her bed, showered the puke out of her hair, remade the bed, dressed her in fresh jammies, tucked her in, gave her a few sips of flat ginger ale (all the while thinking, you know, that you can't pay anyone enough to do these things), and then...she threw up again. As I said, you can't pay anyone enough....
Susie barfed all over our bed soon after we finally got to sleep. By this point, Larry was looking so miserable that he was dismissed to go to bed wherever he could find a vomit-free place to lay his head. Misery loves company, but he did have to get up in the morning and go to his Naval Reserve drill. I sat up and held the baby by the computer until she fell asleep. Just when it looked safe to try to put her in her crib (no way she was going in my bed again), she woke up and threw up all over me. By this time, for those of you keeping track, I had approximately 16000 loads of puke-soaked bed linens and clothes stacked up in front of the washer, no clean pajamas left for me or baby and no spare clean blankets. The weekend wasn't shaping up too well, it was clear. I spent all of Saturday just trying to catch up on the laundry - and need I mention that by then I was also suffering from this lovely ailment? And can you believe Larry didn't even call me during the day to check up on us? Coward.
So - Larry got home from work Saturday evening and I convinced him that we needed to go out for a short, refreshing date (obviously, a trademark of parents of large families is irrational optimism). We told Anna to watch the baby for an hour and a half, and she immediately blew up and said she had too much to do and we had no right to make her babysit. Opting for a tactical retreat, we took the baby with us and fed her french fries (this was a dumb idea) and tried to pretend we were not too tired to enjoy each other's company. Then baby threw up and we had to beat a hasty retreat (a lot of retreating that evening); I vaguely remember Larry throwing a bunch of money at the waiter and grabbing the puke-covered baby and dashing out the door, while I was still messing around trying to soak up the vomit on the table with a stack of paper napkins.
We didn't let Anna get away with her mutiny, of course. She actually told Theo after we left, "See? Mom knew I was right," and then she sat down and played a computer game for a while. Funny how the next morning, when she wanted to go out and get away from us, she couldn't find her shoes. It's my version of house arrest, that missing-shoes trick. She threatened to stay in bed all day and I told her to go ahead. At least I don't have to see her glaring at me all day that way.
There! I'm sure by now I've convinced any of you who are childless (and still reading) to remain happily unblessed by offspring. See? Even though I have six children, I'm still doing my part to keep the total world population from skyrocketing out of control. So you can stop begrudging me that $6,000 child tax credit, all right? I've earned it, dammit.
You know, maybe it's time to get to bed before someone else gets sick - that way, I can pretend to be asleep and Larry will have to deal with it. Yes, an excellent idea - good night!
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