Thursday, March 30, 2006

I'm such a whiner

Well we are out from under The Virus. Let's hope that's it for the season. Yesterday the baby was filling her pants with poop that resembled thick mustard but today, after nine days of pungent joy, it's a regular hard little turd. Halleigh-LU-YUH!

We were pretty much pottytrained too, before IT, and now we are not. As in, not at all! No potty action in this abode. No underwear. No sitting on the potty to practice. Just diaper change city all over again. And I am so defeated about it.

Also, because of all the T.V. and time spent in front of it last week, this week has been very full of whines and neediness on the part of the girl who now is not allowed to watch as much. She has forgotten how to play independently. She seems to need me every second and this is treated with impatience and a general scowl from mommy. When consulting the calendar today I realized that I am smack dab in the center of PMSville, which explains why I have been doing lots of things I don't want to do such as: making lots of threats and not following through, explaining her negative behaviors and how they're making mommy frustrated, and definitely not doling out enough positive attention. It's like I gave it all last week when they were really in the throes of sick and now I have no more to give. That's the thing about this job though. I don't have a choice, they still NEED ME. That in itself can be so overwhelming sometimes.

There's been lots of annoyance with the Jooge on my part, which I feel guilty about. Little things like her habit of asking "WHAT?" five times even though I know she heard me, or when she was interrupting me when I was trying to get something sorted out on the phone with PCC, (no, the locking of oneself in the bathroom momentarily DOES NOT WORK) and just generally the kicks on the changing pad, the fleeing when it's time to get dressed, the way her voice seems to have gone back a few notches into babyville. It's a vish-ass phase we're in right now. The terrible twos are real, and motherhood is officially the HARDEST.

Avery proves to be her own kind of challenge. She sucked on the end of the ipod USB. Ruined. Had to buy a new one. Today I caught her standing at the garbage can, opening it up, pulling out a toast remnant and popping it in her mouth. The girl doesn't sit still for long. I found her five steps up on the landing last week when I took The Jooge up to change a diarrhea dipe. I couldn't believe it. She is also a big fan of thrusting her head backwards into my chest in protest of whatever it is she doesn't like. Ouch. I am here to tell you that motherhood leaves bruises.

So what will I be doing to fill up my tank, you ask? How will this momma NOT resent her role, and be able to continue to occupy it sufficiently if not majestically? I will get over my frustrations. Just being able to vent really helps. Today I wrote in my journal instead of trying to corral the frisky post-bath daughter that wanted to run free. One night a week I will leave the house in the evening all alone to take an eight week class at PCC to learn how to paint. I have also booked a long weekend getaway to visit my brother and his girlfriend in L.A. in June. ALONE. I can't WAIT! These things are little presents to myself, permissions to escape FROM motherhood once in awhile. I need to be gone so I can miss it.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Mom Envy

At our pediatrician office this season I spied a mom who was very put together. She wore a shawl and dark slim jeans with squiggly lines on the pockets. Pointy toes stuck out from beneath their hems. She had impeccably applied makeup and her hair said, "Somebody took time on me this morning." Her posture gave off a very cool and collected handle on things. Her kids were ADORABLE. I was sure that they had only ever been to the office in the name of well baby visits.

Her daughter was blonde and her tresses had been combed and worked into fancy braids all along the top, then pulled into a ponytail. It was very stylish and cute and I was amazed by the fact that she wasn't tugging at the rubberband. That girl, who could not have been younger than three, actually let her hair remain in the artistically crafted hairdo the whole time she was there, and I'm sure, beyond.

In great contrast, there was us. First of all, no shawls are in my closet, no pointy toes prevail. I WISH they did, but alas, I tend to reach for the same thing each time I shop-a new t-shirt and then some kind of cute button down shirt to go over the top. I'm pretty sure that on this particular day I hadn't showered and had instead done a ponytail/hat job up top, with my look being rounded out by a fleece and my ever-so-faithful and easy to slip on Danskos.

My children matched hers in the adorability factor. But in terms of hair, we were on a completely different page. Jooge has a head covered in hair. It has these supercurls at her neckline hiding sleepily under her top layer of straight hair. I have trimmed her bangs and added long layers when the top layer was weighing down the curls. Basically though, I have let it grow, and can pin her down to comb or brush it most days, but at times it looks quite disheveled. The idea of taming it into an actual style, well, no way. Rubberbands and ponytails stay in for about a full minute, then are yanked out. We do"beauty" in front of the mirror and seconds later "the beast"is in the house.

So, mom envy hit hard in the midst of this woman. I began to assume, based on her visual impression, all sorts of unrealistic things about her. Like that she was....PERFECT. There are lots of moms and varying degrees of having it together, but no such thing as perfection. There will ALWAYS be moms that have a better handle on getting her kids pretty for the pediatrician visit. But, (you know where this is going) there will always be moms like me too. I can take my kids on a quick jaunt around the neighborhood in the clothes we wear. We are our own kind of beautiful, quirky, with more interest. My kids aren't being raised thinking they have to be perfect because they don't see me even trying to be. My kids are raised to be who they are, in all their untamed richness. Jooge's hair is the very embodiment of such freedom, flying at times cowlicky and full of personality all around her angelic face.

Still, my posture could definitely use some work.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

With no energy to name this....

If you were to walk into our home today, a very distinct aroma would meet your nostrils. It would not be baking bread or a bouquet of honeysuckle, but hurl and diarrhea, with just a hint of lysol. FUUUUUUDGE. And for everyone who knows The Christmas Story.... "Only I didn't say fudge."

So we caught the Rotavirus. Sunday Julia threw up for the first time and didn't stop for three days. She has never been so sick, lying pitifully on the couch gaunt and exausted. She did not eat food for three days straight. Every fifteen minutes I gave her a Tablespoon of Pedialyte, because that was all she could keep down. The diarrhea showed up then and continues to shoot from her rear, muddy and ruthless so that last night when my husband, Mr. "No, it's not the rotavirus" was in charge, he was faced with many an explosivo. Word is, it might stick around for as many as NINE DAYS but in the meantime she's wrapped in a towel so that the next time she "pourps" the laundry I will have to do is minimal. Thankfully she has stopped hurling and has been eating popcorn, grapes and pedialite. We have turned a corner. Still, lively toddlers are not supposed to see four Clifford the Big Red Dogs THAT AREN'T IN THE ROOM or feel "all wobbly" when they walk.

This whole time I was trying to prevent Avery from getting it. She was happy and sweet in comparison to her surly, weak couch potato of a sister. I naively kept her in her high chair or in the playroom, thinking I could actually box the virus out of our house without her catching it. Then today, she hurled with a capital H. It was hurl with a cape, and it shot all over and I wanted to scream. I'm pretty sure I did scream. She now sits limp and lifeless on my lap, her sleeper stained with bile. BABIES ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO DRY HEAVE. WATCHING ONE DO IT DAMAGES THE PSYCHE. This virus has kicked our asses. What a way to end sick season.

To end this post, I will first apologize for the details that have made you unable to finish your lunch. Then, I will utter another double, triple, quadruple cleansing FUDGE, (no, not really what I screamed) suck it up and get back to nursing my girls back to health. We gotta get this house smelling like roses.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Voila! And Motherhood Becomes a Disability

The other day we stopped at T.J. Maxx to look for a frame for a new picture of the girls that we had taken at Yuen Lui. On our way in I was struggling to push Avery in the stroller because Jooge kept stepping in front of us. Once I had her beside me, holding my hand, I then attempted to open the door. As all this is happening, there is also a blind man barreling along the sidewalk, cane outstretched. When he was about eight feet away he shouted an obnoxious, "Beep beep!" warning us to get out of his way. We nearly didn't make it. I am surprised that the point of his cane didn't catch in the back wheel of the stroller as we hurtled inside the door. (This is how I live dangerously.)

When we got inside I was chuckling a little bit because the guy's warning came out sounding an awful lot like Jacob Sildge, the SNL character incapable of voice modulation. I explained to Jooge why he was beeping at us. Then I felt a little indignant. I mean no disrespect for the blind when I say this, but don't you think moms with strollers AND walking two-year-olds opening doors have a right to beep back?

A New Haiku

Poor Baby

The green snot is back
Set free by a forceful sneeze
Defeated, I wipe.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Just So Everyone Knows Where I Stand on This.....

Amy Adams should have gotten Best Supporting Actress for Junebug. She was SO GOOD in it. Junebug is one of the best movies I have seen in awhile. If you have not seen it, see it. Now. Go.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Oh the Irony

Last weekend I went crazy and cleaned and organized the garage while the kids were down for a nap. My husband was snow camping and I got a ton accomplished.

What resulted was several bags for Goodwill, which I decided to take to the Salvation Army stop instead. I began to haul the stuff to the attendant guy only to see a silent head shake and hand gesture that said, "No, we don't want that." It was three green rubbermaid storage stackers that I'd used in my classroom. So I shrugged and put them back in the car, muttering under my breath. Next, I tried with a box of bedding and some artwork in cheap IKEA frames which he accepted sullenly as though it was subpar donation material. I am never going there again. Goodwill is never that snobby about donations. They take it all. Bless you Goodwill!

Well, the rubbermaid stackers made it back home and were added to the pile of TRASH that sat next to our already-full garbage can. But here's the urksome part. Around about nine on "Put- out-your-trash-night" I was tucking in the Jooge and I heard some scuffling outside. It occured to me that it was probably our neighbor rustling around in our garbage half racoon/half troll that he is. I had seen him sniffing around when my old iron bed sat out by the trash. Sure enough, there he was again! This time, he picked through the small pile and then hobbled home. GRRRRRRRRR! What kind of person feels the entitlement to do that, especially in the days when other freaks are out and about scouting garbage for the purpose of stealing important documents for ID theft? DUDE! KEEP OUT OF OUR GARBAGE!

The bottom line? You're damned if you do and damned if you don't when it comes to my refuse.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Marching On

My Valentine didn't get me flowers. He got me a fleece and it is a wonderful hug. So it is hugging me right now and as the Bub nurses and Jooge plays with her plastic animals, light still pours in the window at five o'clock. I just registered for two classes at PCC: a painting class and a bookbinding class. We went to a crappy garage sale today and left empty handed. I took a nap today to catch up on the sleep loss that has been ganging up on me during the day.

Tonight's plan: a movie (Proof, probably) and a dinner of tuna steaks marinated in a homemade vinegarette. Of course I have to wait for the hubby to bring home shallots, capers and arugula for this to be accomplished. Have composed a long to-do list of things to accomplish this weekend, one of the major goals being to get outside and hike now that the weather is getting better and the children are well.

Yesterday I tried to get them out for a walk. I had Jooge in the stroller and the baby in the backpack. The ipod was hooked into my ears, I had given Jooge crackers and water, my shoes were on, and I went to push the stroller and one of the back wheels was totally flat. I had no luck reviving it. I was beyond pissed.

We got into the preschool I really wanted. It's a co-op so we will get to be pretty involved. I really loved the philosophy and the teacher has been there a long time and is great. It doesn't cost a MILLION dollars like some preschools. I had a vision of what I wanted and this is it, so thankfully I can relax and enjoy the days until Jooge is an official preschooler in September. She has been saying lately, "Next I am three" or variations on this. She walks now whenever we go shopping. No more stroller confinement and I need the cart for her sister who has outgrown her carseat carrier.

Speaking of Bubie, she is not quite 11 months but is a whole new girl these days. She is imitating all sorts of words, announcing things and saying "Uh-oh!" She was a completely mellow ANGEL when we went to Toddler story time this week. I broke down and bought three tubes of diaper rash ointment, one for each changing locale, and now her butt butt doesn't have to be rashy. Poor Bub. Her lame mother has been relying on samples of Desitin all this time, samples that get messy and lost. Right now I love following her when she crawls. She crawls fast and then stops, sits and turns around to see if you're still there and we LAUGH! Lucky sigh.

I have started to get comments from my husband about my clothes, "Is that shirt new?" In reality, these items have just emerged again from my pre-preg tubs, seeing the light after three years. I have been religious about walking on the treadmill we got in November, and also watching my calories by keeping a food diary, and it is paying off. I am determined to get back to the body I had before my pregnancies. Not even for the clothes, for me.

It's Shamrock Shake time again at McDonalds. Happy March.