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6 years ago
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Eulogy for my jogging stroller
Yesterday morning M (our part time nanny) was going to take the kids down to the park to play when she discovered the jogging stroller was missing. The jogging stroller was one of my favorite things of all time. It was far and away my favorite piece of gear. And some jackass stole it out of our garage on Wednesday afternoon. In broad daylight. While we were all at home.
So, I am left with this mess of feelings: the terrible sense of violation that comes with getting robbed; guilt over leaving the garage open; and my awkward and extreme discomfort over L's incessant questions,"Why would somebody take it from us?" "When will they bring it back?" I have no answers for her. Other than, "I just don't know, honey." Also, I am just plain sad. Sad that someone would steal from me, from my family. Sad that the stroller is gone and we can't afford another one.
I've been pushing the kids around the lake in that stroller since Julian could hold up his head. It has carried my kids while they were crying, fussy, happy, fighting, playing, hunting for ducks, counting dogs, and eating ice cream. We bought it when I was pregnant with J and determined to figure out a way to keep running even with two kids. And, the stroller made that possible. Even fun. It was comfortable, provided the kids with shade from the sun and wind, and it was super-light. Plus, it rolled straight and fast and turned on a dime. Granted, I'm not packing on the miles like I used to, and it is still really, really hard for me to get out more than a few times a week (despite the impending half-marathon I'm supposed to run), but it was always there for me. Waiting, providing the possibility of running. I'd load it up with snacks, exciting toys, sunhats, water, and whatever else the kids wanted, anything to keep them happy for a half-hour or 45-minute trip while I reconnected with myself.
Then there were the neighborhood walks. I can't count the number of times D and I have taken the thing around the neighborhood after dinner while J and L walked on their own, checking out the gardens and cats along the way. We always brought the stroller and it was a welcome place for the kids to hang out when they inevitably became "too tired to walk" back to the house for bed.
I am so sad that the stroller is gone. Underneath it all, of course, is this terrible guilt and disappointment. And I don't know how to explain it to the kids. How do I explain that no one is going to steal our car, their wagon, their toys from the back yard? (I don't even know that that is the case!) How do explain that we are in fact safe, when right now, I don't feel safe? I feel violated and crappy. Yesterday I made myself a half hour late for a meeting because halfway there I got nervous and raced home to close and lock all the windows.
I wish I had closed the garage on Wednesday afternoon.
So, I am left with this mess of feelings: the terrible sense of violation that comes with getting robbed; guilt over leaving the garage open; and my awkward and extreme discomfort over L's incessant questions,"Why would somebody take it from us?" "When will they bring it back?" I have no answers for her. Other than, "I just don't know, honey." Also, I am just plain sad. Sad that someone would steal from me, from my family. Sad that the stroller is gone and we can't afford another one.
I've been pushing the kids around the lake in that stroller since Julian could hold up his head. It has carried my kids while they were crying, fussy, happy, fighting, playing, hunting for ducks, counting dogs, and eating ice cream. We bought it when I was pregnant with J and determined to figure out a way to keep running even with two kids. And, the stroller made that possible. Even fun. It was comfortable, provided the kids with shade from the sun and wind, and it was super-light. Plus, it rolled straight and fast and turned on a dime. Granted, I'm not packing on the miles like I used to, and it is still really, really hard for me to get out more than a few times a week (despite the impending half-marathon I'm supposed to run), but it was always there for me. Waiting, providing the possibility of running. I'd load it up with snacks, exciting toys, sunhats, water, and whatever else the kids wanted, anything to keep them happy for a half-hour or 45-minute trip while I reconnected with myself.
Then there were the neighborhood walks. I can't count the number of times D and I have taken the thing around the neighborhood after dinner while J and L walked on their own, checking out the gardens and cats along the way. We always brought the stroller and it was a welcome place for the kids to hang out when they inevitably became "too tired to walk" back to the house for bed.
I am so sad that the stroller is gone. Underneath it all, of course, is this terrible guilt and disappointment. And I don't know how to explain it to the kids. How do I explain that no one is going to steal our car, their wagon, their toys from the back yard? (I don't even know that that is the case!) How do explain that we are in fact safe, when right now, I don't feel safe? I feel violated and crappy. Yesterday I made myself a half hour late for a meeting because halfway there I got nervous and raced home to close and lock all the windows.
I wish I had closed the garage on Wednesday afternoon.
Friday, May 15, 2009
bugged
Today was "take your kids to work day" (for me)--and Lucky Me--I got to "work" at the Peace Garden....my favorite place in all the city. The kids and I headed down there to kick off the "Come Out and Play" nature club that I'm starting up with Minneapolis Parks. Great idea: get kids outside in nature, no structure, no theme, just pure, free time in nature to play, follow butterflies, pick grass, watch clouds, whatever.
This is not a new idea. Nor is it really all that innovative. But study after study shows the benefits of playing in nature. Children are healthier overall, have better mental and emotional functioning, and less aggression. And, of course, there's the environmental benefit. Most people who grow up loving nature will you that it was frequent and early exposure to natural areas that made all the difference.
It made a difference for me: I've been a naturalist and environmental educator for 16 years. I'm thrilled to have the chance to now "use" my kids as guinea pigs--to provide these early and frequent exposures to nature. I want to immerse them in nature, get them outside every day--offer them chances to see and feel the changing of the seasons and the little differences each day makes. Let them learn language of nature-the singing of birds, the sighing of the breezes, the whispers of leaves.
We climbed on the boulders, rolled in the grass, collected rocks and put them in our bucket to dump in the dry streambed that meanders through the garden. We watched grackles sail through the blue sky and perch on the tippy-tops of the "pine needle trees." We made a fort under a spruce tree's low, spreading branches. The kids climbed up and down the big rocks, balancing on one foot, then the other. We collected tossable rocks in our pockets and made our way to the little waterfall. After a long time throwing rocks and flirting with our reflections in the water, it was off to another grassy area for more lollygagging. J pointed out each and every robin he saw. L collected sticks and pinecones, which we used as puppets. Hours passed. We munched on warm cheese sticks, raisins, elmo crackers. Hours passed. We forgot to be hungry for lunch. The sunshine drenching everything, the smell of crabapple blossoms--it was positively intoxicating. For all of us.
Until.
This is not a new idea. Nor is it really all that innovative. But study after study shows the benefits of playing in nature. Children are healthier overall, have better mental and emotional functioning, and less aggression. And, of course, there's the environmental benefit. Most people who grow up loving nature will you that it was frequent and early exposure to natural areas that made all the difference.
It made a difference for me: I've been a naturalist and environmental educator for 16 years. I'm thrilled to have the chance to now "use" my kids as guinea pigs--to provide these early and frequent exposures to nature. I want to immerse them in nature, get them outside every day--offer them chances to see and feel the changing of the seasons and the little differences each day makes. Let them learn language of nature-the singing of birds, the sighing of the breezes, the whispers of leaves.
We climbed on the boulders, rolled in the grass, collected rocks and put them in our bucket to dump in the dry streambed that meanders through the garden. We watched grackles sail through the blue sky and perch on the tippy-tops of the "pine needle trees." We made a fort under a spruce tree's low, spreading branches. The kids climbed up and down the big rocks, balancing on one foot, then the other. We collected tossable rocks in our pockets and made our way to the little waterfall. After a long time throwing rocks and flirting with our reflections in the water, it was off to another grassy area for more lollygagging. J pointed out each and every robin he saw. L collected sticks and pinecones, which we used as puppets. Hours passed. We munched on warm cheese sticks, raisins, elmo crackers. Hours passed. We forgot to be hungry for lunch. The sunshine drenching everything, the smell of crabapple blossoms--it was positively intoxicating. For all of us.
Until.
A small bee was spotted, minding its own business of course, crawling on the top of a rock, then making a slow, low glide through the air to another one. J was fascinated, looking like a little old man: hands folded across his paunchy little tummy as he leaned back against a rock, watching the bee intently. L, on the other hand, freaked. She screamed, she cried. She howled. "Get it away from me!" I tried to reason with her: "it won't hurt you honey, that bee is just minding her own business and checking out the rocks." No effect. I tried to pique her curiousity, "Watch the bee, sweetie. See if you can tell what it's doing." Nothing. She was desperately afraid. I told her she was safe, held her close and squatted down for a closer look. She buried her face in my neck.
I tried one last thing: "Hey, L, you can talk to the bee, you know. Ask it to go away and leave you alone." Very boldly, she did just that. No more than a second later, the bee flew straight up, hovered for a second right in front of her face (as if to say, "well alright then, goodbye!") and flew off. I was thrilled. L screamed even louder and begged me to hold her. "It did just what you asked, honey. It was just saying goodbye! Isn't that great?!"
"I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home!" Maybe it was the lack of any "real food," maybe the fact that it was way past nap time, maybe it was the heat of the sun. Whatever it was, the girl was done with this day.
Although she cried all the way home, after she had a short nap she agreed we had had an absolutely heavenly day. That evening when I said, "I just love springtime!" she agreed, with one caveat: "I like to stay inside, where there are no bugs."
We'll work on that.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
the irony of my blog title is not lost on me. I assure you.
Today was a near-perfect day, as far as I 'm concerned. A light breeze, cotton-candy clouds, and sky so deliciously blue...
We spent the better part of the morning out back, playing in the sandbox and refilling the bird feeders. L was burying her "fat kitty" in the sand when their Grandma showed up. As if that weren't exciting enough she had presents! I hated to leave this afternoon. She and the kids spent all day playing while I went to yet another meeting. This week I've been to so many meetings I can't even count them. At night, I've been turning on the computer the minute the kids are in bed, responding to emails, working, and trying to keep at bay this vague uneasiness that something is falling through the cracks.
I can not, can not maintain this frantic pace. I'm overcommitted. I have too much on my plate. This level of activity is just not sustainable. I have a feeling that the stress and anxiety of my long list of "to-do" is why I get so crabby and huffy and agitated. (Well, maybe.) I've been trying to think of how I can creatively trim my schedule so that I am more relaxed and more effective at the stuff I choose to keep doing. (like parenting, for example)...but to cut some of these activities? Yikes.
My problem is that I love each and every one of them. Take any one of my four jobs, for example. I would hate to let any of them go. They're all important, wonderful, stimulating. Stuff I love. Causes I'm passionate about. Areas where I feel I have something to contribute, professionally.
And then there are the volunteer commitments. There are four of those as well: the neighborhood association, an environmental advisory committee for the city of Minneapolis, and "helping out here and there" at L's school. (How could I say no? They're trying to "green" the school and the grounds...clearly, they need me) You see.....this is a problem.
Today's meeting was the state environmental education advisory task force (a mouthful!)...my subcommittee role is to help develop a statewide climate change curriculum for a variety of audiences. How could I give that up? I'm thrilled to be a part of that process. Excited to contribute to something so far-reaching.
These things are all meaningful and really important to me. I don't know what I would possibly cut from my schedule. If there were things I didn't enjoy, that'd be one thing....but that's so not the case.
I know, I know....simplifying for sanity and all of that. The title started out as a reference to the Stuff in our lives. How did I accumulate so many commitments? How do I clear the clutter, so to speak, when none of it really feels like clutter? It all feels important to me. I value it all.
We spent the better part of the morning out back, playing in the sandbox and refilling the bird feeders. L was burying her "fat kitty" in the sand when their Grandma showed up. As if that weren't exciting enough she had presents! I hated to leave this afternoon. She and the kids spent all day playing while I went to yet another meeting. This week I've been to so many meetings I can't even count them. At night, I've been turning on the computer the minute the kids are in bed, responding to emails, working, and trying to keep at bay this vague uneasiness that something is falling through the cracks.
I can not, can not maintain this frantic pace. I'm overcommitted. I have too much on my plate. This level of activity is just not sustainable. I have a feeling that the stress and anxiety of my long list of "to-do" is why I get so crabby and huffy and agitated. (Well, maybe.) I've been trying to think of how I can creatively trim my schedule so that I am more relaxed and more effective at the stuff I choose to keep doing. (like parenting, for example)...but to cut some of these activities? Yikes.
My problem is that I love each and every one of them. Take any one of my four jobs, for example. I would hate to let any of them go. They're all important, wonderful, stimulating. Stuff I love. Causes I'm passionate about. Areas where I feel I have something to contribute, professionally.
And then there are the volunteer commitments. There are four of those as well: the neighborhood association, an environmental advisory committee for the city of Minneapolis, and "helping out here and there" at L's school. (How could I say no? They're trying to "green" the school and the grounds...clearly, they need me) You see.....this is a problem.
Today's meeting was the state environmental education advisory task force (a mouthful!)...my subcommittee role is to help develop a statewide climate change curriculum for a variety of audiences. How could I give that up? I'm thrilled to be a part of that process. Excited to contribute to something so far-reaching.
These things are all meaningful and really important to me. I don't know what I would possibly cut from my schedule. If there were things I didn't enjoy, that'd be one thing....but that's so not the case.
I know, I know....simplifying for sanity and all of that. The title started out as a reference to the Stuff in our lives. How did I accumulate so many commitments? How do I clear the clutter, so to speak, when none of it really feels like clutter? It all feels important to me. I value it all.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
hello again
I'm doubtful anyone but me will be reading this today. But, i think it's good to be back!
Last night I was lying in bed wailing to Dominic about what a rotten mother I am. Again. Because I lost patience with the kids. Again. And yelled. Again. I always, always come up short of my expecations. During the day I told L how sorry I am and that I'm still learning not to get so mad and yell. She told me she gets scared when I yell. Which I suppose I knew, but made me feel just sick to hear it.
I asked Dominic, are there people who actually get to the end of the day and don't make a mental review of their failings? Who think "well, i'm not perfect, but I'm doing the best I can."
I wish I could be one of those people. Just for one day. That's my wish for today.
I'm thinking about how violent it is to engage in this self-loathing. I make mistakes. I don't hurt my children (God, no!) but I do lose patience and yell. Last week I threw a sippy cup into a basket of unfolded laundry. And for hours-literally, hours, I was sick with self-loathing. HOw could I do this? How can I scare my children like this? What's wrong with me? Why can't I get my shit together?
So, it's violent to engage in this self-hatred when I make mistakes. On some level, it probably teaches my kids that there is little tolerance for mistakes (those made by me) in my world. That can't be good. But I find it so hard to forgive myself. I don't know why.
Last night I was lying in bed wailing to Dominic about what a rotten mother I am. Again. Because I lost patience with the kids. Again. And yelled. Again. I always, always come up short of my expecations. During the day I told L how sorry I am and that I'm still learning not to get so mad and yell. She told me she gets scared when I yell. Which I suppose I knew, but made me feel just sick to hear it.
I asked Dominic, are there people who actually get to the end of the day and don't make a mental review of their failings? Who think "well, i'm not perfect, but I'm doing the best I can."
I wish I could be one of those people. Just for one day. That's my wish for today.
I'm thinking about how violent it is to engage in this self-loathing. I make mistakes. I don't hurt my children (God, no!) but I do lose patience and yell. Last week I threw a sippy cup into a basket of unfolded laundry. And for hours-literally, hours, I was sick with self-loathing. HOw could I do this? How can I scare my children like this? What's wrong with me? Why can't I get my shit together?
So, it's violent to engage in this self-hatred when I make mistakes. On some level, it probably teaches my kids that there is little tolerance for mistakes (those made by me) in my world. That can't be good. But I find it so hard to forgive myself. I don't know why.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Black Friday
Here we are, the day after Thanksgiving. The busiest shopping day of the year.
I woke up to find this article on my news-feed on the computer. I don't know what to say.
I woke up to find this article on my news-feed on the computer. I don't know what to say.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Pod People
I imagine by now, no one is reading this anymore. I know it's been 2 months (2 months!?) since I've posted anything, but it seems like things suddenly got so....busy. So if you have checked back to see if I've posted, I'm sorry about the long delay. Time got away from me. Again.
The biggest time-sucker, by far, is that our hot water heater blew up and flooded our basement, requiring us to remove every single item in our basement. We had to rent a POD for storage of all the stuff. We haven't missed a single stinkin' thing. (Well, actually, there are numerous books I wish I could get to. But other than books, I don't miss a thing.)
How things come full-circle.
It was two years ago, at about this time of year, that we were unboxing from a POD. We had tried to sell our house, couldn't find one we liked as much as the one we have, didn't get any offers on our place, and decided in the end to stay put. During our Massive Stuff Reintroduction program, we got to talking about how much Stuff we had, and how we didn't really miss a single thing during the three months it was all crammed into a POD. Sadly, we knew we couldnt keep the POD so we proceeded to return all the odds and ends into our home. Which suddenly started to feel very full indeed. Shortly thereafter, we heard a story on The Compact on NPR, and the rest is history.
Now here we are, almost 11 months along into the Compact, and we're packing our sh*t into a POD again, and not missing a darn thing. Dominic is single-handedly re-doing sheetrock in the basement, painting, fixing the trim and the floor and re-paneling his woodshop. (all while the kids and I sleep, bless his heart) Sometime soon, we'll re-paint the office downstairs and the new carpet will be installed. Then, it'll be time to move back into the basement. Time for another Massive Stuff Reintroduction program. To say I dread that day is an understatement.
How is it that we can go a whole year without purchasing anything new (with some exceptions of course) and yet still, even after culling, donating, having a Mega Sale, and culling again, we still have enough stuff to fill a POD? And why, oh, why are we putting it back in our house when we haven't missed anything, save the (massive in its own right) book collection?
The biggest time-sucker, by far, is that our hot water heater blew up and flooded our basement, requiring us to remove every single item in our basement. We had to rent a POD for storage of all the stuff. We haven't missed a single stinkin' thing. (Well, actually, there are numerous books I wish I could get to. But other than books, I don't miss a thing.)
How things come full-circle.
It was two years ago, at about this time of year, that we were unboxing from a POD. We had tried to sell our house, couldn't find one we liked as much as the one we have, didn't get any offers on our place, and decided in the end to stay put. During our Massive Stuff Reintroduction program, we got to talking about how much Stuff we had, and how we didn't really miss a single thing during the three months it was all crammed into a POD. Sadly, we knew we couldnt keep the POD so we proceeded to return all the odds and ends into our home. Which suddenly started to feel very full indeed. Shortly thereafter, we heard a story on The Compact on NPR, and the rest is history.
Now here we are, almost 11 months along into the Compact, and we're packing our sh*t into a POD again, and not missing a darn thing. Dominic is single-handedly re-doing sheetrock in the basement, painting, fixing the trim and the floor and re-paneling his woodshop. (all while the kids and I sleep, bless his heart) Sometime soon, we'll re-paint the office downstairs and the new carpet will be installed. Then, it'll be time to move back into the basement. Time for another Massive Stuff Reintroduction program. To say I dread that day is an understatement.
How is it that we can go a whole year without purchasing anything new (with some exceptions of course) and yet still, even after culling, donating, having a Mega Sale, and culling again, we still have enough stuff to fill a POD? And why, oh, why are we putting it back in our house when we haven't missed anything, save the (massive in its own right) book collection?
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
A Time to Cull
We need another major purging of goods over here! How is it that some days I feel very lacking in "stuff" (see previous post!) and other days, I feel like I can not escape the mountains of stuff everywhere in this house. Mainly, it's just that there are so many toys. We have bins and bins of things that Julian has outgrown and Lucy has no interest in. Or, no need for. I am a firm believer in the "less is more" mentality (but you knew that, right?) and think that a few really cool, well-loved toys are worth far more than heaps of them in every room of the house. What drives me the most insane are the random scattered bits everywhere-pieces and parts of bigger toy "sets" that have somehow become separated from each other. A puzzle piece here, a doll's jacket there. Argh.
Some mornings, I sit in the playroom with the kids, and I can't help but "sort" the toys. Keepers go on the shelf. "Giveaways" go into a bin. Random bits go into a separate basket, for a Toy Reunion I hope to someday host. My kids rarely notice or care, but every once in a while, Lucy will pull something out of the bin and say, with furrowed brow, "Are we keeping this?"
This afternoon when she woke up from her nap she came down and snuggled with me for the longest time in the living room. She wadded up her blanky in her fists, turning it around and wadding it up, over and over. Finally she sighed and said, "Mommy, I love my blanky. I don't want to get rid of it." Yikes.
Some mornings, I sit in the playroom with the kids, and I can't help but "sort" the toys. Keepers go on the shelf. "Giveaways" go into a bin. Random bits go into a separate basket, for a Toy Reunion I hope to someday host. My kids rarely notice or care, but every once in a while, Lucy will pull something out of the bin and say, with furrowed brow, "Are we keeping this?"
This afternoon when she woke up from her nap she came down and snuggled with me for the longest time in the living room. She wadded up her blanky in her fists, turning it around and wadding it up, over and over. Finally she sighed and said, "Mommy, I love my blanky. I don't want to get rid of it." Yikes.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
If you see any of these items used, call me!
We are past the halfway point of doing the Compact. Overall, it's gone pretty well. Most things, we've found, we can live without, buy used, or repair. I think we'd both agree that by far, the most difficult thing is finding clothes for ourselves (patty and dom). It's time-comsuming and often much more challenging than either of us is up for.
But, there are other things. Things that are just plain hard to deal with in a "compact-friendly" way. It's next to impossible to find some things used. I have a little list of household things that we need, and when I'm shopping at the thrift stores, I pull it out in the hopes of finding some of them. But in some cases, that's a tall order. And, these aren't the things one can assume a thrift store will have. It takes time, time, time, to go to a few places in search of this or that random item. And time is something we just don't have a lot of these days.
These are the things that leave us scratching our heads and frankly, wondering how to proceed. Violate the Compact? Live without for the rest of the year? Cobble together a temporary solution?
Examples:
But, there are other things. Things that are just plain hard to deal with in a "compact-friendly" way. It's next to impossible to find some things used. I have a little list of household things that we need, and when I'm shopping at the thrift stores, I pull it out in the hopes of finding some of them. But in some cases, that's a tall order. And, these aren't the things one can assume a thrift store will have. It takes time, time, time, to go to a few places in search of this or that random item. And time is something we just don't have a lot of these days.
These are the things that leave us scratching our heads and frankly, wondering how to proceed. Violate the Compact? Live without for the rest of the year? Cobble together a temporary solution?
Examples:
- sippy cup replacement valves
- bathroom rugs
- broom
- a flagpole holder-upper for my porch
- dog leash(when she is at the groomer, I have 2 kids in tow, and the groomer has lost her leash)
- shower curtain liner
- wooden cooking utensils that are not freaky-dirty/cracked/flaking apart
- welcome mat in decent shape
- random, assorted tupperware lids
- tiny nail clippers, suitable for the delicate nails of the wigglingest baby ever
OK, so really now. If you see any of these items used, I want to hear from you! (Although you can take the dog leash off the list. I managed to talk the groomer in to sending me home with one as a "free gift")
Honestly, I'm scratching my head over these things.
It's a zoo.
Lucy is currently obsessed with this book about penguins. The Mommy goes away fishing and the little baby penguin is hunkered down with Daddy until Mommy returns, safe and sound. This is the book that we read, oh, about a hundred times a day when she and I were sick. Why? Is she missing me a lot for some reason? Is she bonding in a new way with her Daddy? Not sure what the deep significance is for her, and frankly it's written so poorly that I wince every time she pulls it off the shelf and asks, "read me this booky"--but I digress.
Anyway. She is obsessed with penguins. Several times in recent weeks, she has asked if we can go and look at penguins at the zoo. "Do you think the mommies will be there too?" She has been dying to see a penguin in real life. So, we trekked off to the free zoo on the Other Side of the River and spent a little time watching the penguins. Their "habitat" paled in comparison to what she was expecting, I think. No deep ocean blue, no sea lions and killer whales frolicking in the surf among the penguins. Just a few thin, rather low-energy penguins hangin' out on a fake iceberg. But she loved it. She asked me which ones were the mommies, and where the babies were. I told her (honestly) that I didn't know, and we looked for a zookeeper, but found no one to ask. She wanted to watch them swim, but they weren't getting off their rock for anything. So we watched them and watched them and she quoted lines from her favorite book, "we huddle together in the inner circle....you close your eyes to the blinding sleet, while here I sit, balancing on your feet." She loved it. I had to suppress the urge to run.
Before I had kids, I swore I'd never take my children to the zoo. I've always had rather mixed feelings about zoos in general. Yes yes, I know, there are some zoos that are doing a lot for wild habitat preservation, and the importance of captive breeding programs for endangered species (which often take place in, and are funded by zoos) can not be understated. But still. They bother me. No matter how hard zoos try to fake it, or make it appear otherwise, zoo animals are still captive animals in cages. Taken out of the wild (in most cases) and put in a box far, far from home. They are still basically prisoners, put on display for our amusement. Something about it feels inhumane. Then there's the secondary issue of the people that I've encountered at zoos. Laughing, jeering, taunting the animals. Throwing trash. I've seen dads growling at lions through the glass, kids calling monkeys obscene names, and all manner of pointing, laughing and cajoling to try to get a reaction out of the animals. It's awful. It never fails to make me want to grab these imbeciles and shake them, screaming, what is wrong with you?! How could people treat animals like this? And what kind of example are you setting for your children? Can't we try to be a little more respectful?
On the other hand. When I was a child, my parents took me to zoos and aquariums often. I loved going. I loved animals. I wrote letters to the dolphin trainers at Sea World. My "behind the scenes at the zoo" birthday party is one of my absolute best memories. I knew so much about so many animals, I was a walking "Wildlife Treasury" Set. For the longest time, I wanted to be a vet when I grew up. Then a marine biologist. I wound up a naturalist, spending my days educating others about habitat preservation and wildlife conservation. I am sure this is in no small part due to my frequent, positive exposure to animals, lots of animals, when I was young. My parents, both thoughtful, compassionate people, both love animals, always have. I don't remember either of them being the dark cloud of negativity that I can be, muttering under my breath about how it sucks to be that there zebra, being the only zebra in the whole zoo. Pretty sorry lot for a herd animal. So I'm not the most fun person to bring to the zoo. Dominic is a saint, as usual, and doesn't push me in to the seal pool or anything, despite my dour attitude.
But my kids? They love the zoo. They love to see animals up close. Lucy shuddered the first time she actually heard a lion roar. Julian nearly wiggled out of his skin when the sea lion slooshed around in its tank, right in front of us.
I'm working on lightening up a little bit. (and don't think the irony there is lost on me!)
Anyway. She is obsessed with penguins. Several times in recent weeks, she has asked if we can go and look at penguins at the zoo. "Do you think the mommies will be there too?" She has been dying to see a penguin in real life. So, we trekked off to the free zoo on the Other Side of the River and spent a little time watching the penguins. Their "habitat" paled in comparison to what she was expecting, I think. No deep ocean blue, no sea lions and killer whales frolicking in the surf among the penguins. Just a few thin, rather low-energy penguins hangin' out on a fake iceberg. But she loved it. She asked me which ones were the mommies, and where the babies were. I told her (honestly) that I didn't know, and we looked for a zookeeper, but found no one to ask. She wanted to watch them swim, but they weren't getting off their rock for anything. So we watched them and watched them and she quoted lines from her favorite book, "we huddle together in the inner circle....you close your eyes to the blinding sleet, while here I sit, balancing on your feet." She loved it. I had to suppress the urge to run.
Before I had kids, I swore I'd never take my children to the zoo. I've always had rather mixed feelings about zoos in general. Yes yes, I know, there are some zoos that are doing a lot for wild habitat preservation, and the importance of captive breeding programs for endangered species (which often take place in, and are funded by zoos) can not be understated. But still. They bother me. No matter how hard zoos try to fake it, or make it appear otherwise, zoo animals are still captive animals in cages. Taken out of the wild (in most cases) and put in a box far, far from home. They are still basically prisoners, put on display for our amusement. Something about it feels inhumane. Then there's the secondary issue of the people that I've encountered at zoos. Laughing, jeering, taunting the animals. Throwing trash. I've seen dads growling at lions through the glass, kids calling monkeys obscene names, and all manner of pointing, laughing and cajoling to try to get a reaction out of the animals. It's awful. It never fails to make me want to grab these imbeciles and shake them, screaming, what is wrong with you?! How could people treat animals like this? And what kind of example are you setting for your children? Can't we try to be a little more respectful?
On the other hand. When I was a child, my parents took me to zoos and aquariums often. I loved going. I loved animals. I wrote letters to the dolphin trainers at Sea World. My "behind the scenes at the zoo" birthday party is one of my absolute best memories. I knew so much about so many animals, I was a walking "Wildlife Treasury" Set. For the longest time, I wanted to be a vet when I grew up. Then a marine biologist. I wound up a naturalist, spending my days educating others about habitat preservation and wildlife conservation. I am sure this is in no small part due to my frequent, positive exposure to animals, lots of animals, when I was young. My parents, both thoughtful, compassionate people, both love animals, always have. I don't remember either of them being the dark cloud of negativity that I can be, muttering under my breath about how it sucks to be that there zebra, being the only zebra in the whole zoo. Pretty sorry lot for a herd animal. So I'm not the most fun person to bring to the zoo. Dominic is a saint, as usual, and doesn't push me in to the seal pool or anything, despite my dour attitude.
But my kids? They love the zoo. They love to see animals up close. Lucy shuddered the first time she actually heard a lion roar. Julian nearly wiggled out of his skin when the sea lion slooshed around in its tank, right in front of us.
I'm working on lightening up a little bit. (and don't think the irony there is lost on me!)
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Back on our feet!
We are all pretty much healthy now and things are beginning to feel somewhat "normal" around here. Lucy is officially 3 now! Her birthday was just yesterday. We went to the Malt Shop where she had her all-time favorite meal: macaroni and cheese followed by strawberry ice cream.
Lucky us, we only live about 10 blocks from the restaurant, and she wanted to walk home. Having just consumed a humongous hot-fudge-banana malt (my all-time favorite meal), I was happy to indulge her. D drove home with J, and she and I proceeded to have a lovely evening walk, just the two of us. We looked at flowers, said hello to bumblebees, walked up and down steps, searched for kitties, hugged trees, and just generally had a nice time together.
When we were sick, she and I spent hours each day, lying in bed, "doing stickers," reading stories, cuddling, and napping. Now that we are better and life's usual pace has swept us up again, we're missing each other a bit, so this was a nice chance to reconnect and just have some time together. And so much more fun than lying in bed, convalescing together!
Lucky us, we only live about 10 blocks from the restaurant, and she wanted to walk home. Having just consumed a humongous hot-fudge-banana malt (my all-time favorite meal), I was happy to indulge her. D drove home with J, and she and I proceeded to have a lovely evening walk, just the two of us. We looked at flowers, said hello to bumblebees, walked up and down steps, searched for kitties, hugged trees, and just generally had a nice time together.
When we were sick, she and I spent hours each day, lying in bed, "doing stickers," reading stories, cuddling, and napping. Now that we are better and life's usual pace has swept us up again, we're missing each other a bit, so this was a nice chance to reconnect and just have some time together. And so much more fun than lying in bed, convalescing together!
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The thing that ate my family
So, the day Julian's high fever broke, Lucy woke up with a moderately high fever, which quickly got higher and higher. You know where this is going. Fools that we were!We had just been breathing a sigh of relief that no one else in the family got the bug from Hell that took down my baby boy for a week.
So, of course, the Bug from Hell took me down, and Lucy too. Until last week, I didn't know an adult could sustain a fever of 103 for days on end. I was shivering, sweating, crying and basically just trying to get through. Couldn't eat due to the bleeding sores in the back of my throat. Couldn't see due to my mysteriously burning, burning eyes. Lucy's fever and tummy ache lasted a full week, the fever and other monstrous symptoms hung on to me for only about four days. But let me tell you, the past two weeks have been awful. The three of us have been sicker than we have ever been in our lives. I would not wish this on anyone, not anyone. D has so far been spared this miserable thing, and its a good thing too, this house would have fallen completely apart without him to take care of us these past couple weeks.
I'm contining my quest for medical practitioners, of every ilk, (eastern/western/traditional/alterative) to help me figure out what I need to do to make this The Year of Good Health for my family. So much sickness last year nearly sent me over the edge, and besides, I like to think that we are a healthy lot, overall. We eat well, practice good hygeine, so what gives? There must be something bigger going on here, that we all keep getting sick. I just want to get to the bottom of it, and get us all healthy.
I'll write more when I am coherent. We are on day 2 of recovery from this thing and we had a B-day party for Lucy today. It was a fun party, and so great to see the family, but she and I are both pretty wiped out from it all. Julian is happy and lovin' life, and Dom is still holding steady.
So, of course, the Bug from Hell took me down, and Lucy too. Until last week, I didn't know an adult could sustain a fever of 103 for days on end. I was shivering, sweating, crying and basically just trying to get through. Couldn't eat due to the bleeding sores in the back of my throat. Couldn't see due to my mysteriously burning, burning eyes. Lucy's fever and tummy ache lasted a full week, the fever and other monstrous symptoms hung on to me for only about four days. But let me tell you, the past two weeks have been awful. The three of us have been sicker than we have ever been in our lives. I would not wish this on anyone, not anyone. D has so far been spared this miserable thing, and its a good thing too, this house would have fallen completely apart without him to take care of us these past couple weeks.
I'm contining my quest for medical practitioners, of every ilk, (eastern/western/traditional/alterative) to help me figure out what I need to do to make this The Year of Good Health for my family. So much sickness last year nearly sent me over the edge, and besides, I like to think that we are a healthy lot, overall. We eat well, practice good hygeine, so what gives? There must be something bigger going on here, that we all keep getting sick. I just want to get to the bottom of it, and get us all healthy.
I'll write more when I am coherent. We are on day 2 of recovery from this thing and we had a B-day party for Lucy today. It was a fun party, and so great to see the family, but she and I are both pretty wiped out from it all. Julian is happy and lovin' life, and Dom is still holding steady.
Friday, July 18, 2008
hello again
OK, It's been a veryveryvery long time since I posted anything here. Sorry about that. Recovering from our chronic condition of trying to do too much. We had a rather busy few weeks there, with a trip to northern WI for a vacation with Dominic's family at a northwoods cabin, shortly followed by a glorious and long trip to the Colorado Rockies. We've been home from Colorado for a week now, but J has been sick with an extremely high fever which just broke yesterday.
So, trying to settle back into a routine is tough. But we're getting there. If anyone is actually still reading this, I'll post more often from now on.
As for the Compact, there's not much to say, other than things are stil going just fine and although I am still so weary of the whole clothing issue, everything is going well. The kids' birthdays are both this month and luckily last Christmas when D and I made the decision to undertake a year of no-buying, we set aside a few Christmas presents for this very occasion. J's birthday was last weekend, but the poor little dude had a fever of 103 so wasn't much in the partying mood. We're headed to my mothers this weekend for a belated birthday celebration, and hopefully everyone will be in good spirits.
With two kids' birthdays just weeks apart, I see the point in having one big family get-together to celebrate both. On the other hand, I am a bit leery of "watering down" each party-birthdays are so special, and I want each of my children to feel their day is a celebration of his/her uniqueness and arrival on this big ol' hunk of dirt. If we start combining parties, will that be ost somehow?
So, trying to settle back into a routine is tough. But we're getting there. If anyone is actually still reading this, I'll post more often from now on.
As for the Compact, there's not much to say, other than things are stil going just fine and although I am still so weary of the whole clothing issue, everything is going well. The kids' birthdays are both this month and luckily last Christmas when D and I made the decision to undertake a year of no-buying, we set aside a few Christmas presents for this very occasion. J's birthday was last weekend, but the poor little dude had a fever of 103 so wasn't much in the partying mood. We're headed to my mothers this weekend for a belated birthday celebration, and hopefully everyone will be in good spirits.
With two kids' birthdays just weeks apart, I see the point in having one big family get-together to celebrate both. On the other hand, I am a bit leery of "watering down" each party-birthdays are so special, and I want each of my children to feel their day is a celebration of his/her uniqueness and arrival on this big ol' hunk of dirt. If we start combining parties, will that be ost somehow?
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Another exception
This morning I had to take L in to the doctor's office for a shot. This was actually akin to torture. She was terrified and screaming, biting my shoulder, crying, it was just awful. This primal need that I have to protect my daughter from any pain or discomfort in this world? I bumped up against it big time today and it laughed in my face.
Anyway.
So, to soften the blow of this scary experience (for both of us) I told Lucy we would go to the toy store and pick something special out. (What? Where does this come from? Am I teaching her to assuage her pain and fear with material goods? Am I bribing her? Am I teaching her some terribly flawed lesson about "earning" toys based on her behavior?--I don't care what the hidden messages are today, people. I just wanted my baby to feel better!) I knew I was going to violate the Compact for this, and I figured, why not? She's gotta get a shot and this is going to suck. Take her to the toy store, get her a kitty, she'll feel better. To heck with the Compact. This is an acceptable exception.
Well, we got to the toy store and the thing she wanted most of all, more than anything else, was a little doll stroller. Mind you, she already has a doll stroller, which is about 2 years old. It is rickety and has been duct-taped together more than any other thing we own (except possibly for Julian's CD player, long story)--it still works but is really in rough shape. She found a pretty little number, purple with pink ballet slippers on it. She found a stuffed kitty to push around and generally had a blast at the toy store. (We probably could have left at that point, as the horror of the shot was all but forgotten by this point anyway.)
L: "I want this stroller."
me: "But you already have one of these honey, let's look for something else that might be fun for you to play with"
L: "But I want this stroller."
Me:"Look here honey, look at this high chair. Do you think your kitties might like to sit in this high chair and eat their kitty treats?"
L: "But you said I could get anything."
Me: "Yes but you already have a stroller, let's find something that you don't have. Look at this pretty high chair."
We left the store with a frigging doll high chair. My chirpy sales pitch worked. She got a little excited about the high chair and I swooped on that enthusiasm to get her the toy I thought would be the best choice. But she had picked out the toy she wanted the most, just like I promised her she could, and what did I do? I ignored her choice. I didn't want to get something we already had. I am curious how long the current stroller will last. I figure it still works OK, so why get a new one? Why not get something she doesn't have?
I was kicking myself the whole entire way home from the store. Why am I such a jerk? Why couldn't I just get her the thing that she really wanted? Why did I talk her out of it, and basically make myself a liar by not letting her get "anything" she wanted? The rare occasion we violate the terms of the Compact for a toy, and she doesn't even really get the one she wants.
Not only that, but the doll high chair sucks. It is stupid. We got home, got it out of the box, and it is way too short, so she has to kneel down to use it, plus, her kitties are too big to sit in it properly, and the tray doesn't come off. It's too hard for her to use the way she wants to. So I feel even worse about the whole damn day.
Yes, I realize I am most definitely overthinking this one, but I feel rotten. I feel like an awful wretch of a mother.
Anyway.
So, to soften the blow of this scary experience (for both of us) I told Lucy we would go to the toy store and pick something special out. (What? Where does this come from? Am I teaching her to assuage her pain and fear with material goods? Am I bribing her? Am I teaching her some terribly flawed lesson about "earning" toys based on her behavior?--I don't care what the hidden messages are today, people. I just wanted my baby to feel better!) I knew I was going to violate the Compact for this, and I figured, why not? She's gotta get a shot and this is going to suck. Take her to the toy store, get her a kitty, she'll feel better. To heck with the Compact. This is an acceptable exception.
Well, we got to the toy store and the thing she wanted most of all, more than anything else, was a little doll stroller. Mind you, she already has a doll stroller, which is about 2 years old. It is rickety and has been duct-taped together more than any other thing we own (except possibly for Julian's CD player, long story)--it still works but is really in rough shape. She found a pretty little number, purple with pink ballet slippers on it. She found a stuffed kitty to push around and generally had a blast at the toy store. (We probably could have left at that point, as the horror of the shot was all but forgotten by this point anyway.)
L: "I want this stroller."
me: "But you already have one of these honey, let's look for something else that might be fun for you to play with"
L: "But I want this stroller."
Me:"Look here honey, look at this high chair. Do you think your kitties might like to sit in this high chair and eat their kitty treats?"
L: "But you said I could get anything."
Me: "Yes but you already have a stroller, let's find something that you don't have. Look at this pretty high chair."
We left the store with a frigging doll high chair. My chirpy sales pitch worked. She got a little excited about the high chair and I swooped on that enthusiasm to get her the toy I thought would be the best choice. But she had picked out the toy she wanted the most, just like I promised her she could, and what did I do? I ignored her choice. I didn't want to get something we already had. I am curious how long the current stroller will last. I figure it still works OK, so why get a new one? Why not get something she doesn't have?
I was kicking myself the whole entire way home from the store. Why am I such a jerk? Why couldn't I just get her the thing that she really wanted? Why did I talk her out of it, and basically make myself a liar by not letting her get "anything" she wanted? The rare occasion we violate the terms of the Compact for a toy, and she doesn't even really get the one she wants.
Not only that, but the doll high chair sucks. It is stupid. We got home, got it out of the box, and it is way too short, so she has to kneel down to use it, plus, her kitties are too big to sit in it properly, and the tray doesn't come off. It's too hard for her to use the way she wants to. So I feel even worse about the whole damn day.
Yes, I realize I am most definitely overthinking this one, but I feel rotten. I feel like an awful wretch of a mother.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The Mother of all Garage Sales.
We are finally having a garage sale! We were originally just planning to "bring a few things over" to my dad's garage sale last weekend, but then Julian got sick (just a cold, but he had a high fever and a rash for a few days) and Dom decided to paint the outside of the house, where the addition was put on last year. (a busy weekend) so, true to form, we left that small pile of "a few things" to rot in our basement.
Coincidentally, this weekend, my neighborhood association (of which I am a proud board member, I might add) is hosting a neighborhood-wide Sale-o-Rama, so Dom and I sprung into action this week, rummaged through the closets, the boxes, the piles of clutter everywhere, and came up with a pretty sizeable pile of stuff to sell. We don't intend to get rich (unless someone does in fact buy the violin, the bed, the mountain bike, and the kayak)-but what a fun way to meet the neighbors, chat with folks, and enjoy a summer Saturday in Minnesota. Plus, maybe we can get rid of some of this STUFF that's been plaguing us. By noon I'll be giving stuff away, I am sure. I just want it out of here.
I can't believe Dom agreed to do it--he hates garage sales. When we're in the car and we drive past one, or better yet, a flea market, I have to beg and plead to get him to stop. On the rare occasion that he actually does stop, he grumbles so much about it that it's really not even that fun. (Sorry, Dom, but you know it's true!) He sees no point in "paying money for stuff other people are throwing away" and wasting time wandering around looking at crap....I call it browsing around in search of random goodies and treasures unknown! And I thoroughly enjoy it!
So, if you're in the area this Saturday, mosey on over. You can indulge your secret desire to become a violin player,or a collector of random pieces of childrens play equipment.
Coincidentally, this weekend, my neighborhood association (of which I am a proud board member, I might add) is hosting a neighborhood-wide Sale-o-Rama, so Dom and I sprung into action this week, rummaged through the closets, the boxes, the piles of clutter everywhere, and came up with a pretty sizeable pile of stuff to sell. We don't intend to get rich (unless someone does in fact buy the violin, the bed, the mountain bike, and the kayak)-but what a fun way to meet the neighbors, chat with folks, and enjoy a summer Saturday in Minnesota. Plus, maybe we can get rid of some of this STUFF that's been plaguing us. By noon I'll be giving stuff away, I am sure. I just want it out of here.
I can't believe Dom agreed to do it--he hates garage sales. When we're in the car and we drive past one, or better yet, a flea market, I have to beg and plead to get him to stop. On the rare occasion that he actually does stop, he grumbles so much about it that it's really not even that fun. (Sorry, Dom, but you know it's true!) He sees no point in "paying money for stuff other people are throwing away" and wasting time wandering around looking at crap....I call it browsing around in search of random goodies and treasures unknown! And I thoroughly enjoy it!
So, if you're in the area this Saturday, mosey on over. You can indulge your secret desire to become a violin player,or a collector of random pieces of childrens play equipment.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
fashionally challenged
Here's what a total dork I am. Last week, when it seemed spring had finally arrived (oh, blessed spring! How I have missed you!) and I had the luxury of a kidless couple of hours, I went to run some errands. My wardrobe is pitiful. It's not as if the errands were anything exciting, say, a Kentucky Derby party or a lunch meeting with Obama....just a trip to the grocery store and the car wash. (exciting life I lead, no?)
Granted, most of my "spring wardrobe" has been boxed up and sitting in the crawlspace for the better part of three years (in the past three spring/summer seasons I was pregnant/postpartum or too busy chasing a one-year old and too freaked out about everything to care what I was wearing...and then pregnant/postpartum again)
So I found myself sauntering through the parking lot on the most beautiful spring day...blue sky, puffy white clouds, sunshine so bright you could smell it (well, I could anyway) and leaves practically exploding from the branches. I was a stunning vision of...brown. And not the brown that is the new black either. I'm talking about faded brown cords, and a long-sleeved brown maternity shirt that still passes as a loose fitting shirt. Yeah. I was lookin' good, people.
So began my quest for decent, well fitting clothes. For me. I've had some minimal issues with finding kids clothes (see this post) but nothing I can't deal with, given enough time and laundry detergent. It was time to exhume my spring wardrobe from the bowels of my house. A few hours after my lovelies were asleep, I found myself knee-deep in clothes I have had for years, some old favorites, and many, many "what was I thinking?" pieces. So I did a ton of laundry that night and realized that I am in deep doo-doo.
My cute summer shorts, which fit me great four years ago, don't particularly, shall we say, get along with my two time-post-postpartum body. My cute summer shirts, which used to fit, now aren't particularly thrilled to stretch across my rather-ahem-ample baby-feeding system.
So, at the very next kid-free opportunity, I hit the consignment stores hard. Three hours later I had a somewhat sizeable collection of passable clothes. I am not going to stop any cars with my incredible fashion sense, but at least I'm not wearing corduroy anymore!
Of course, the grand irony here is that it's back down to 50 degrees and rain. So I believe the fashion editors of the world might forgive my corduroy, should it emerge from my closet again...
Granted, most of my "spring wardrobe" has been boxed up and sitting in the crawlspace for the better part of three years (in the past three spring/summer seasons I was pregnant/postpartum or too busy chasing a one-year old and too freaked out about everything to care what I was wearing...and then pregnant/postpartum again)
So I found myself sauntering through the parking lot on the most beautiful spring day...blue sky, puffy white clouds, sunshine so bright you could smell it (well, I could anyway) and leaves practically exploding from the branches. I was a stunning vision of...brown. And not the brown that is the new black either. I'm talking about faded brown cords, and a long-sleeved brown maternity shirt that still passes as a loose fitting shirt. Yeah. I was lookin' good, people.
So began my quest for decent, well fitting clothes. For me. I've had some minimal issues with finding kids clothes (see this post) but nothing I can't deal with, given enough time and laundry detergent. It was time to exhume my spring wardrobe from the bowels of my house. A few hours after my lovelies were asleep, I found myself knee-deep in clothes I have had for years, some old favorites, and many, many "what was I thinking?" pieces. So I did a ton of laundry that night and realized that I am in deep doo-doo.
My cute summer shorts, which fit me great four years ago, don't particularly, shall we say, get along with my two time-post-postpartum body. My cute summer shirts, which used to fit, now aren't particularly thrilled to stretch across my rather-ahem-ample baby-feeding system.
So, at the very next kid-free opportunity, I hit the consignment stores hard. Three hours later I had a somewhat sizeable collection of passable clothes. I am not going to stop any cars with my incredible fashion sense, but at least I'm not wearing corduroy anymore!
Of course, the grand irony here is that it's back down to 50 degrees and rain. So I believe the fashion editors of the world might forgive my corduroy, should it emerge from my closet again...
Monday, May 5, 2008
Our First Cheat
So, I went out and bought something recently without a second thought. I fell off the wagon of non-consumerism. And I have no regrets at all. None. What was the ultra-tempting item that got me to turn away from my values, to ignore this challenge we've taken on, to shun our quest for simplicity? A new car? Some great clothes?
Light-blocking fabric.
Those of you who have seen me recently probably don't have to try very hard to recall my pitted eyes, sallow complexion and complete lack of energy these past few months. What many of you know is that our dear baby boy was trying for the world record of sleepless days and nights. He was making a pretty good run of it, too. 9 months without a nap. (no, I'm not exaggerating) No single stretch of sleep at night lasting more than three hours. Nine months of this was really taking its toll on me. I was physically and mentally exhausted, completely drained, and, frankly, starting to lose my grip. I was short on patience (aka an UberHag of a mother and wife), I was short on ideas. We have tried everything to get this kid to sleep. And I do mean, everything. Health experts from every end of the spectrum weighed in on his difficulty. Friends were generous with advice and suggestions. I have sung every lullaby ever written to this child.
Finally, a friend (bless you S) menti0ned how well her son started to sleep after she taped black poster board up on the windows, to block out the light. Why didn't I think of this before? I raced to the fabric store the next morning, wondering how on earth I could have overlooked this one. But of course. He has wood shades, but they aren't great at blocking the light.
I spent twenty minutes velcroing the fabric up in J's room, and that afternoon, miracle of miracles, he took a nap. And not just any nap, friends, he took a three hour nap. Since then, he has napped every day, for about an hour and a half. And the nights? His current average is to wake up two or three times. This is down from the 5 to 10 times per night I was getting up with him before.
To say I am restored is an understatement.
So, yeah, we broke the terms of the Compact this time. But like I said, it is so worth it. No regrets here. I am re-joining the living, and it is good.
Light-blocking fabric.
Those of you who have seen me recently probably don't have to try very hard to recall my pitted eyes, sallow complexion and complete lack of energy these past few months. What many of you know is that our dear baby boy was trying for the world record of sleepless days and nights. He was making a pretty good run of it, too. 9 months without a nap. (no, I'm not exaggerating) No single stretch of sleep at night lasting more than three hours. Nine months of this was really taking its toll on me. I was physically and mentally exhausted, completely drained, and, frankly, starting to lose my grip. I was short on patience (aka an UberHag of a mother and wife), I was short on ideas. We have tried everything to get this kid to sleep. And I do mean, everything. Health experts from every end of the spectrum weighed in on his difficulty. Friends were generous with advice and suggestions. I have sung every lullaby ever written to this child.
Finally, a friend (bless you S) menti0ned how well her son started to sleep after she taped black poster board up on the windows, to block out the light. Why didn't I think of this before? I raced to the fabric store the next morning, wondering how on earth I could have overlooked this one. But of course. He has wood shades, but they aren't great at blocking the light.
I spent twenty minutes velcroing the fabric up in J's room, and that afternoon, miracle of miracles, he took a nap. And not just any nap, friends, he took a three hour nap. Since then, he has napped every day, for about an hour and a half. And the nights? His current average is to wake up two or three times. This is down from the 5 to 10 times per night I was getting up with him before.
To say I am restored is an understatement.
So, yeah, we broke the terms of the Compact this time. But like I said, it is so worth it. No regrets here. I am re-joining the living, and it is good.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
How hair extensions can save America
Yesterday, I was at the MOA (long story). On the way there, I heard GW on the radio talking up the rebate checks going out to Americans. He's hoping Americans will use the money to "boost the economy" and that it will "provide some relief at the gas pumps." (here's a link to an article about this speech) Ummmm, OK. Granted, we're in a recession. I'm no economist, but I couldn't help but wonder about this. As I wandered through the mall, assaulted by stimuli, surrounded by people toting huge shopping bags, I saw plenty of opportunities to "boost the economy." Cell phone covers! Clip-on hair extensions! Hermit crabs! But really now, is it my obligation as an American to spend money? Will that really be the best thing for the country, if we all go out and pour money into The Economy, by purchasing goods? I believe our President thinks it would be.
And then I got to thinking, what would it be like if, instead of just spending all this money falling from the sky, instead of just buying "stuff" because The Big Guy told us to, the good citizens invested it in things that might really improve the quality of life around here: livable wages, care for the elderly, better support for mothers and children, a decent health care system. What would happen to the economy? What would life be like then?
I just don't think "stuff" is the answer. What would it be like if everyone in this country had financial security? Is it even possible? What would that do to the economy?
And then I got to thinking, what would it be like if, instead of just spending all this money falling from the sky, instead of just buying "stuff" because The Big Guy told us to, the good citizens invested it in things that might really improve the quality of life around here: livable wages, care for the elderly, better support for mothers and children, a decent health care system. What would happen to the economy? What would life be like then?
I just don't think "stuff" is the answer. What would it be like if everyone in this country had financial security? Is it even possible? What would that do to the economy?
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Six secondhand scented spring shirts
I had two hours of kid-free time today. I spent one hour having a wonderful lunch and reading the paper (an indulgence I haven't enjoyed in I don't know how long). The next hour was spent poring over the racks at my local secondhand kids clothing store. The store was crammed full of stuff, but I managed to find very little in the way of clothes for my kids. I found a few things, but frankly, it's proving to be darn hard. What I need are pants, shirts, shorts. Just basic stuff. And I didn't find much. I'm really not picky when it comes to clothing for my kids. I want cute stuff, sure, and stuff they'll wear. But after an hour, I had only a couple shirts for Julian (who actually really needs pants more than anything) and a couple shirts for Lucy (ditto on the pants thing). So I am not sure how productive this outing actually was. 6 items of clothing will not get my children through the next season.
I'd find myself holding up an item now and then and thinking, "Hmm. well, this isn't all that cute, and I'm not sure what she can wear it with, but it is her size..." so I wound up buying several things that I don't think I really needed to buy. Or didn't even like. And of course, this particular store allows no returns. So when I got things home and realized the foolish choices I had made, arrgh. And the amount of time I spent shopping, compared with the result?? Phooey. This seems so inefficient. I would rather waste money than time. The opportunities I have to go out shopping sans kids are so rare, I hate to spend an entire hour and have so little to show for it.
And then there's the whole "bionic nose" thing. Have I mentioned this? I have a sense of smell that is, well, acute. I can practically tell you what brand of laundry soap the guy jogging past me on the sidewalk uses. I can smell the blueberry muffin being eaten by the person in the car next to me at a stoplight. With the windows closed. Secondhand stores present an entire landscape of smells for me to navigate through. It can be overwhelming at times. Today I left with a headache that is still hanging on, hours after I returned home. Obviously I will wash the clothes I bought, but I've found that when I buy secondhand clothes, I always have to wash them 4 or 5 times because I can smell the detergent/pets/residual perfume/etc the clothes have been in contact with.
Of course, I'll get better at this. I'll eventually find the right stores that I can tolerate shopping in, and I'll figure out how to better choose what to bring home. There must be an easier way. Maybe I am going to the wrong places? Anybody know of any good secondhand kids clothes stores?
I'd find myself holding up an item now and then and thinking, "Hmm. well, this isn't all that cute, and I'm not sure what she can wear it with, but it is her size..." so I wound up buying several things that I don't think I really needed to buy. Or didn't even like. And of course, this particular store allows no returns. So when I got things home and realized the foolish choices I had made, arrgh. And the amount of time I spent shopping, compared with the result?? Phooey. This seems so inefficient. I would rather waste money than time. The opportunities I have to go out shopping sans kids are so rare, I hate to spend an entire hour and have so little to show for it.
And then there's the whole "bionic nose" thing. Have I mentioned this? I have a sense of smell that is, well, acute. I can practically tell you what brand of laundry soap the guy jogging past me on the sidewalk uses. I can smell the blueberry muffin being eaten by the person in the car next to me at a stoplight. With the windows closed. Secondhand stores present an entire landscape of smells for me to navigate through. It can be overwhelming at times. Today I left with a headache that is still hanging on, hours after I returned home. Obviously I will wash the clothes I bought, but I've found that when I buy secondhand clothes, I always have to wash them 4 or 5 times because I can smell the detergent/pets/residual perfume/etc the clothes have been in contact with.
Of course, I'll get better at this. I'll eventually find the right stores that I can tolerate shopping in, and I'll figure out how to better choose what to bring home. There must be an easier way. Maybe I am going to the wrong places? Anybody know of any good secondhand kids clothes stores?
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