Thirty seconds haven't passed between, Goodnight, I love you, and him appearing at his open door.
Back to bed, love. But he's not having it.
Tucked back in bed, back rubbed, soft music playing, another goodnight.
This time I'm halfway down the hall before his door opens. I catch sight of the open checkbook on the desk in my room, the stack of bills waiting to be paid, the computer screen displaying our bank account, turn around and start over.
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
I want to go night-night wis Mommy.
Who can say no to that? I tuck him in, climbing in next to him this time, curling my too pregnant self around his limbs that appear to have lengthened overnight.
My mind races. Back to the unpaid bills, downstairs the the movie (The Proposal) I'm halfway through. I stopped during the wedding scene. Surely that wedding isn't going to happen. How can she do that to him? To his family? But, they're falling for each other aren't they?
The baby kicks me squarely in my bladder and I'm reminded of the huge glass of water I consume nightly to keep from stuffing my gullet full of Easter candy. (Rarely successful.)
A deep breath catches my attention. It's too dark to see if his eyes are closed, but his thumb moves slowly over the corner of his blanket, so I'm guessing not yet.
My mind moves back to my to-do list. The carpenter is coming tomorrow to finish off the last of the little things in the baby's room. I make a mental note to finally drag the haul from Home Depot out of my car before morning so I'm ready when they are. I think of the quick conversation I had with my mom earlier this evening. Was she annoyed with me or just in a hurry?
The music stops meaning we've been at this for 47 minutes. I listen carefully and notice his breathing is slow and even. His thumb has paused at the corner of his blanket. His lips are pursed into the pout he has affected since birth.
I'm done for tonight. Off duty. Suddenly, the bills don't seem quite as important.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
32 Weeks, Almost
Okay, so I won't be 32 weeks until Friday, but yesterday was exactly two months until my due date, and 31 weeks three days just doesn't have much of a ring to it.
* I believe we have a name! This is the name we had decided on before we knew that Bub would be a boy and husband has hemmed and hawed and pushed other names that are just so wrong for this baby ever since we found out we were having a girl this time around. Well, on Saturday Bub was with my mother-in-law, so we went to one of those paint your own pottery places to paint a piggy bank for the baby girl. We had to initial it when we were finished, and I was about to put my initials on the bottom when husband stopped me and told me to put the baby's initials! As if we had known all along what her initials were!
*All of a sudden I feel huge. My stomach is in the way pretty much all the time and some of my maternity shirts are too short. Already! I'm still sleeping relatively okay, although my hips ache in the morning.
*No heartburn. I'm not sure why this seems noteworthy, but nearly everyone I know speaks of eating their weight in Tums while pregnant and I have had nary a burn.
*I have thought, with some seriousness, about doing the Couch to 5k program after this baby is born. In fact, I plan to mark my calendar six weeks from my delivery day for a starting point. Here's the thing: I hate running. DESPISE. But it seems easy enough and if I start in the summer when my husband is home, hopefully it will be part of my routine by the time he's (hopefully re-employed) in September. Check back in August when I'm giving my husband the finger when he asks how running is going as I'm curled up on the couch with frozen yogurt and Big Brother season 23 on DVR.
*After talking to my mom last night, she suggested that I ask my doctor about pain relief during the, erm, repair process after delivery. Last time around my epidural had worn off, but the doctor didn't give me anything before my (many) stitches. I adore my doctor, but I can remember this being the most excruciating part of the labor process. If I were to need stitches in my arm they would give me something, yes? And I wouldn't have just pushed a NINE POUND BABY out of my arm, so it seems like a reasonable request. Good idea she has to discuss this now, but now I'm officially freaked out about having another giant baby.
* I believe we have a name! This is the name we had decided on before we knew that Bub would be a boy and husband has hemmed and hawed and pushed other names that are just so wrong for this baby ever since we found out we were having a girl this time around. Well, on Saturday Bub was with my mother-in-law, so we went to one of those paint your own pottery places to paint a piggy bank for the baby girl. We had to initial it when we were finished, and I was about to put my initials on the bottom when husband stopped me and told me to put the baby's initials! As if we had known all along what her initials were!
*All of a sudden I feel huge. My stomach is in the way pretty much all the time and some of my maternity shirts are too short. Already! I'm still sleeping relatively okay, although my hips ache in the morning.
*No heartburn. I'm not sure why this seems noteworthy, but nearly everyone I know speaks of eating their weight in Tums while pregnant and I have had nary a burn.
*I have thought, with some seriousness, about doing the Couch to 5k program after this baby is born. In fact, I plan to mark my calendar six weeks from my delivery day for a starting point. Here's the thing: I hate running. DESPISE. But it seems easy enough and if I start in the summer when my husband is home, hopefully it will be part of my routine by the time he's (hopefully re-employed) in September. Check back in August when I'm giving my husband the finger when he asks how running is going as I'm curled up on the couch with frozen yogurt and Big Brother season 23 on DVR.
*After talking to my mom last night, she suggested that I ask my doctor about pain relief during the, erm, repair process after delivery. Last time around my epidural had worn off, but the doctor didn't give me anything before my (many) stitches. I adore my doctor, but I can remember this being the most excruciating part of the labor process. If I were to need stitches in my arm they would give me something, yes? And I wouldn't have just pushed a NINE POUND BABY out of my arm, so it seems like a reasonable request. Good idea she has to discuss this now, but now I'm officially freaked out about having another giant baby.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Reinforcements
It's not uncommon for him to take off running. Into parking lots, down the street, anywhere. Just, away. He seems to be going for the world record in shouting NO in a 24 hour period. Whatever we want him to do is certain to be the opposite of what he wants to do.
I've tried time outs, which only happen if I physically restrain him in the time-out designated area. I've tried positive reinforcement, begging, pleading, crying. I've tried threatening. I'm going to call your friends and we're staying home from the park/music class/playdate if you don't get in this car RIGHT NOW.
I know, you're shocked that particular tactic hasn't been working wonders. In fact, that very declaration from me this morning caused him to turn around with a twinkle in his eye, then dart into the very center of the neighbors lawn that was currently being sprinklered.
Tonight I'm clearing away the clutter. Literally. Cleaning off my nightstand, dresser, desk. Pulling books off the shelves and look for solutions. If you don't hear from me for a while, send someone to pull me out from the mountain of parenting books I'm planning to disappear into.
He's been getting away with it because I'm taking the path of least resistance. Because when he sees the husband and I standing near each other, he barrels towards us and says, Hey, let's have a family, and wraps his arms around our legs. Because he's cute and he's charming and I'm weak. It's time for a new regime, because once there are two he'll rule me if things don't change around here.
I've tried time outs, which only happen if I physically restrain him in the time-out designated area. I've tried positive reinforcement, begging, pleading, crying. I've tried threatening. I'm going to call your friends and we're staying home from the park/music class/playdate if you don't get in this car RIGHT NOW.
I know, you're shocked that particular tactic hasn't been working wonders. In fact, that very declaration from me this morning caused him to turn around with a twinkle in his eye, then dart into the very center of the neighbors lawn that was currently being sprinklered.
Tonight I'm clearing away the clutter. Literally. Cleaning off my nightstand, dresser, desk. Pulling books off the shelves and look for solutions. If you don't hear from me for a while, send someone to pull me out from the mountain of parenting books I'm planning to disappear into.
He's been getting away with it because I'm taking the path of least resistance. Because when he sees the husband and I standing near each other, he barrels towards us and says, Hey, let's have a family, and wraps his arms around our legs. Because he's cute and he's charming and I'm weak. It's time for a new regime, because once there are two he'll rule me if things don't change around here.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
So Many Things
*The carpet is in and finished and that is the last I will speak of it.
*The lizard situation in the backyard is out of control. We received a gift of very expensive patio furniture a couple of years ago, the kind that comes with a lifetime guarantee and will be in our wills. That patio furniture? Is now a lizard habitat. I bring out beach chairs from the garage to sit on while Bub plays, lest I accidentally find myself sharing space with one of the creepies. Bub was intrigued by them until today when one moved too fast away from him and made him cry. I've been researching lizard extermination again, but to no avail. The thing is, I know EXACTLY where they live. I see them come out in the morning and retreat there in the afternoon. If you know of any solution that won't wipe out our entire backyard eco-system, your input is welcome.
*Our house is many shades of brown and the arrival of spring has me yearning for COLOR in my house. I picked up these at Pier1 this weekend. There were three sizes, not just the two shown on the website, and the blue is bringing cheer to my kitchen table.
*Still in a spendy mood (and with gift cards burning a hole in my pocket) I indulged myself. I'm looking for summer clothes that will be forgiving immediately post-baby. Normally this means dresses, but I need to find dresses that I can nurse in. Easier said than done. This Liberty of London cutie fits the bill. It actually fits NOW, given its flowy nature, so it will be cling free in the summer.
* I'm thoroughly enjoying bag #2, of what will probably be too many, of these, Easter's most perfect candy:
Husband made the mistake of combining these with the Easter M&M's, as if they are a candy to be enjoyed casually, while just passing through. Make no mistake, this is NO casual candy.
*We took Bub to Disneyland for a few hours yesterday morning. You guys, he calls Pinnochio: "Pee-Mickey-oh." Could you just die?
*The lizard situation in the backyard is out of control. We received a gift of very expensive patio furniture a couple of years ago, the kind that comes with a lifetime guarantee and will be in our wills. That patio furniture? Is now a lizard habitat. I bring out beach chairs from the garage to sit on while Bub plays, lest I accidentally find myself sharing space with one of the creepies. Bub was intrigued by them until today when one moved too fast away from him and made him cry. I've been researching lizard extermination again, but to no avail. The thing is, I know EXACTLY where they live. I see them come out in the morning and retreat there in the afternoon. If you know of any solution that won't wipe out our entire backyard eco-system, your input is welcome.
*Our house is many shades of brown and the arrival of spring has me yearning for COLOR in my house. I picked up these at Pier1 this weekend. There were three sizes, not just the two shown on the website, and the blue is bringing cheer to my kitchen table.
*Still in a spendy mood (and with gift cards burning a hole in my pocket) I indulged myself. I'm looking for summer clothes that will be forgiving immediately post-baby. Normally this means dresses, but I need to find dresses that I can nurse in. Easier said than done. This Liberty of London cutie fits the bill. It actually fits NOW, given its flowy nature, so it will be cling free in the summer.
* I'm thoroughly enjoying bag #2, of what will probably be too many, of these, Easter's most perfect candy:
Husband made the mistake of combining these with the Easter M&M's, as if they are a candy to be enjoyed casually, while just passing through. Make no mistake, this is NO casual candy.*We took Bub to Disneyland for a few hours yesterday morning. You guys, he calls Pinnochio: "Pee-Mickey-oh." Could you just die?
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Oh, how I wish I was kidding
I jinxed it. I totally jinxed it.
Three-fourths of the carpet has been installed. The one room that's not complete? Bub's room. The only room we NEED. The reason why it's not complete? The installers tore a HOLE in the floor when removing the hardwood. A HOLE. That a person could fall through. And, guess what? It's not their responsibility to fix it. Because that makes sense, right?
Let me just offer one small bit of advice. Do not take on home improvement contracts with multiple subcontractors. If you order carpet from Company A, it should be Company A's people doing the measuring, and installing and everything. I'm sure plenty of people have gone the same route that we did, without incident. But, in this situation one hand doesn't know what the other is doing and it's ALWAYS someone else's fault.
Here's my favorite part of today. When I was on the phone with Company A (while simultaneously holding the carpet installers hostage by refusing to sign anything,) I was told that they would be happy to provide the materials for me to fix the flooring at no cost. The materials. For me to fix it myself. He related this unforeseen circumstance to replacing a water heater and finding a leaky pipe that would need to be fixed before the water heater could be installed. I could almost see him throwing his hands in the air and shrugging as if to say, not my fault, lady. Except the only way that this would be like that situation is if you removed the water heater and then smashed the pipe with a hammer and were all, "Oh look, a leaky pipe!" The installers admitted to my face that they created this problem, however they're not licensed to fix it. Who's shocked that Company A doesn't have anyone to fix it either? Anyone?
Oh, I was kidding about that being my favorite part. My favorite part? Was when the installers starting moving all of Bub's furniture back into his room. They were reassembling his bed and it was all I could do not to scream, "Are you freaking KIDDING me, right now? We can't even walk in here, why are we bothering with this charade?"
Who knew a person could whine about carpet for days on end?
Three-fourths of the carpet has been installed. The one room that's not complete? Bub's room. The only room we NEED. The reason why it's not complete? The installers tore a HOLE in the floor when removing the hardwood. A HOLE. That a person could fall through. And, guess what? It's not their responsibility to fix it. Because that makes sense, right?
Let me just offer one small bit of advice. Do not take on home improvement contracts with multiple subcontractors. If you order carpet from Company A, it should be Company A's people doing the measuring, and installing and everything. I'm sure plenty of people have gone the same route that we did, without incident. But, in this situation one hand doesn't know what the other is doing and it's ALWAYS someone else's fault.
Here's my favorite part of today. When I was on the phone with Company A (while simultaneously holding the carpet installers hostage by refusing to sign anything,) I was told that they would be happy to provide the materials for me to fix the flooring at no cost. The materials. For me to fix it myself. He related this unforeseen circumstance to replacing a water heater and finding a leaky pipe that would need to be fixed before the water heater could be installed. I could almost see him throwing his hands in the air and shrugging as if to say, not my fault, lady. Except the only way that this would be like that situation is if you removed the water heater and then smashed the pipe with a hammer and were all, "Oh look, a leaky pipe!" The installers admitted to my face that they created this problem, however they're not licensed to fix it. Who's shocked that Company A doesn't have anyone to fix it either? Anyone?
Oh, I was kidding about that being my favorite part. My favorite part? Was when the installers starting moving all of Bub's furniture back into his room. They were reassembling his bed and it was all I could do not to scream, "Are you freaking KIDDING me, right now? We can't even walk in here, why are we bothering with this charade?"
Who knew a person could whine about carpet for days on end?
Monday, March 15, 2010
Worn.
I am exhausted.
I'm single parenting, but not. My husband is home from work on days that he usually would be away, but he can't help. It's frustrating to Bub that he's home but can't play with him like he usually does. It's frustrating to me that Bub is acting out because he wants Daddy and can't have him. On top of doing what I would normally do in a day, with the added bonus of a potty-training toddler, I've got another adult to take care of. To be fair, he doesn't ask for much, and he'll have his turn to wait on my in about ten weeks. Also, the presence of another adult motivates me to be more productive, so I managed to squeeze in a thorough cleaning of the downstairs on top of shuttling back and forth to the chiropractor.*
All day long I kept a running to-do list of things I would do when Bub napped (didn't happen) and then when he went to sleep. Now that I'm sitting here with a sleeping child and sleeping husband, all I'm motivated to do is peruse the Liberty of London line at Target and make longer lists of the items I must have from Pier 1's new spring collection.
Did I mention I'm exhausted?
It's nearly 10pm, I'm normally halfway to restless sleep by now, but since husband is sleeping on the couch, it's like being home alone. I stay awake until I'm passing out tired so I don't have to worry about the boogeyman coming to get me, or whatever other crazy thing my mind thinks of when I'm home alone - even if I'm not really alone. And I SWEAR, as I was typing that sentence, a small mountain of precariously stacked items just crashed to the floor in my bathroom. Heart, meet throat.
Upsides!
-The carpet is coming tomorrow! Along with the appropriate floor-removal tools! And no, I DID NOT just jinx anything by stating, with certainty, that this will be happening.
-Husband is so appreciative of all my help. He's pretty cute when he's helpless.
-We have a lot of little projects that need finishing and over the next two days we have the people coming who know how to fix them! Progress!
*Twice. TWO visits to the chiropractor in one day. The first visit was consultation and x-rays. The second was an adjustment. You would think they might have mentioned that they couldn't fit both things into one appointment when I called in the morning. Maybe.
I'm single parenting, but not. My husband is home from work on days that he usually would be away, but he can't help. It's frustrating to Bub that he's home but can't play with him like he usually does. It's frustrating to me that Bub is acting out because he wants Daddy and can't have him. On top of doing what I would normally do in a day, with the added bonus of a potty-training toddler, I've got another adult to take care of. To be fair, he doesn't ask for much, and he'll have his turn to wait on my in about ten weeks. Also, the presence of another adult motivates me to be more productive, so I managed to squeeze in a thorough cleaning of the downstairs on top of shuttling back and forth to the chiropractor.*
All day long I kept a running to-do list of things I would do when Bub napped (didn't happen) and then when he went to sleep. Now that I'm sitting here with a sleeping child and sleeping husband, all I'm motivated to do is peruse the Liberty of London line at Target and make longer lists of the items I must have from Pier 1's new spring collection.
Did I mention I'm exhausted?
It's nearly 10pm, I'm normally halfway to restless sleep by now, but since husband is sleeping on the couch, it's like being home alone. I stay awake until I'm passing out tired so I don't have to worry about the boogeyman coming to get me, or whatever other crazy thing my mind thinks of when I'm home alone - even if I'm not really alone. And I SWEAR, as I was typing that sentence, a small mountain of precariously stacked items just crashed to the floor in my bathroom. Heart, meet throat.
Upsides!
-The carpet is coming tomorrow! Along with the appropriate floor-removal tools! And no, I DID NOT just jinx anything by stating, with certainty, that this will be happening.
-Husband is so appreciative of all my help. He's pretty cute when he's helpless.
-We have a lot of little projects that need finishing and over the next two days we have the people coming who know how to fix them! Progress!
*Twice. TWO visits to the chiropractor in one day. The first visit was consultation and x-rays. The second was an adjustment. You would think they might have mentioned that they couldn't fit both things into one appointment when I called in the morning. Maybe.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
So, This Weekend...
Yeah, not the weekend we had been planning for, in so many ways.
On Thursday, due to what turned out to be dehydration, I found myself in labor and delivery being monitored for contractions. Two large glasses of water (with the good hospital ice!) later, I was sent home with instructions to relax, keep my feet up and be the queen for the weekend.
Easy enough, right?
Saturday we were all set to have carpet put into the two kids' bedrooms. Currently they have hardwood flooring. I like the hardwood in the bedrooms, but husband does not and it would appear that his disdain for the hardwood is greater than my like for it, so he won. We (he) moved all of the furniture out of these rooms in preparation for the install. He also had to clear out the bottom half of our closet because when we recarpeted the house last year, we forgot to replace the carpet in the closet. It was while he was removing a tangle of hangers from my side of the closet that he pulled too hard, felt a searing pain in his back and I found him a few moments later, unable to move on the floor of the closet. Long story short: He spent the rest of the weekend flat on his back on the couch, unable to move, uttering things like, "This is definitely worse than childbirth," and "I think I might need a cane. Where would we get one?"
Shortly thereafter the carpet installers showed up, took one look at the flooring in the bedrooms and told us that they wouldn't be able to remove it. Apparently, the measuring company (which, of course is separate from the company we ordered the carpet from and also separate from the company sent to install the carpet) had falsely labeled this flooring "floating." It is, in fact, not floating (easy to remove) but, instead, glued down (hard to remove.) There was no way to get the guys with the right tools out to my house on Saturday. It was at this point that I broke down in tears on the phone with the man with the power to get the guys to my house and blubbered about the furniture already being moved and my husband out of commission and PLEASE do something! He told me that his guys would be more than happy to move the furniture back into the rooms for me, but that everything else would have to wait. Probably until Tuesday.
It's right now that I need to confess. While it was a major inconvenience to get ready for the carpet installation that wasn't (the contents of my closet are still strewn about my bedroom because I'm certainly not cleaning up that mess twice) I'm disappointed for an entirely different reason. Up until now, the almost-nursery has been a jumble of furniture in the middle of a room with a few boxes and bags stacked on top of each other. We moved everything to the middle so we could paint and it just didn't seem necessary to get everything put away when it was all going to have to come out again for the carpet. SO. My big plan was to begin putting the nursery together Saturday night. While our bedding hasn't arrived, or any of the decorations, we have all of the furniture, and we have clothes that can be folded into drawers and books that can be placed on shelves and a blanket that can be folded over the back of the rocking chair. I was so excited to walk past that space and see a room and not an anxiety-provoking jumble of crap. But it wasn't to be. Hopefully, Tuesday.
Upsides!
* Every single person I talked to about the carpet mess was exceedingly accomodating. They all were quick to apologize and state that this wasn't our fault and that the measuring company would be responsible for the cost of removing the difficult to remove floor, not me.
* The weather today was gloriously beautiful. It wasn't hot, but warmish in the sun and so clear and nice to be outside.
* Bub got to spend all day Friday and today with my parents, whom he loooves. I was still supposed to be taking it easy during all of this mess and he needed more activity than the husband and I could provide him from our respective stations on the couch.
* On Tuesday, the air-conditioning guy is coming to figure out our A/C situation. The kids' bedrooms get so much afternoon sun that it is a losing battle to try and cool them in the summer. I thought this was our cross to bear, but after talking to him while he was fixing something at my mom's house last week, he suggested that this is totally fixable. I can't even begin to explain the level to which I've stressed about this over the last five years we've lived in this house and there's possible a solution!
On Thursday, due to what turned out to be dehydration, I found myself in labor and delivery being monitored for contractions. Two large glasses of water (with the good hospital ice!) later, I was sent home with instructions to relax, keep my feet up and be the queen for the weekend.
Easy enough, right?
Saturday we were all set to have carpet put into the two kids' bedrooms. Currently they have hardwood flooring. I like the hardwood in the bedrooms, but husband does not and it would appear that his disdain for the hardwood is greater than my like for it, so he won. We (he) moved all of the furniture out of these rooms in preparation for the install. He also had to clear out the bottom half of our closet because when we recarpeted the house last year, we forgot to replace the carpet in the closet. It was while he was removing a tangle of hangers from my side of the closet that he pulled too hard, felt a searing pain in his back and I found him a few moments later, unable to move on the floor of the closet. Long story short: He spent the rest of the weekend flat on his back on the couch, unable to move, uttering things like, "This is definitely worse than childbirth," and "I think I might need a cane. Where would we get one?"
Shortly thereafter the carpet installers showed up, took one look at the flooring in the bedrooms and told us that they wouldn't be able to remove it. Apparently, the measuring company (which, of course is separate from the company we ordered the carpet from and also separate from the company sent to install the carpet) had falsely labeled this flooring "floating." It is, in fact, not floating (easy to remove) but, instead, glued down (hard to remove.) There was no way to get the guys with the right tools out to my house on Saturday. It was at this point that I broke down in tears on the phone with the man with the power to get the guys to my house and blubbered about the furniture already being moved and my husband out of commission and PLEASE do something! He told me that his guys would be more than happy to move the furniture back into the rooms for me, but that everything else would have to wait. Probably until Tuesday.
It's right now that I need to confess. While it was a major inconvenience to get ready for the carpet installation that wasn't (the contents of my closet are still strewn about my bedroom because I'm certainly not cleaning up that mess twice) I'm disappointed for an entirely different reason. Up until now, the almost-nursery has been a jumble of furniture in the middle of a room with a few boxes and bags stacked on top of each other. We moved everything to the middle so we could paint and it just didn't seem necessary to get everything put away when it was all going to have to come out again for the carpet. SO. My big plan was to begin putting the nursery together Saturday night. While our bedding hasn't arrived, or any of the decorations, we have all of the furniture, and we have clothes that can be folded into drawers and books that can be placed on shelves and a blanket that can be folded over the back of the rocking chair. I was so excited to walk past that space and see a room and not an anxiety-provoking jumble of crap. But it wasn't to be. Hopefully, Tuesday.
Upsides!
* Every single person I talked to about the carpet mess was exceedingly accomodating. They all were quick to apologize and state that this wasn't our fault and that the measuring company would be responsible for the cost of removing the difficult to remove floor, not me.
* The weather today was gloriously beautiful. It wasn't hot, but warmish in the sun and so clear and nice to be outside.
* Bub got to spend all day Friday and today with my parents, whom he loooves. I was still supposed to be taking it easy during all of this mess and he needed more activity than the husband and I could provide him from our respective stations on the couch.
* On Tuesday, the air-conditioning guy is coming to figure out our A/C situation. The kids' bedrooms get so much afternoon sun that it is a losing battle to try and cool them in the summer. I thought this was our cross to bear, but after talking to him while he was fixing something at my mom's house last week, he suggested that this is totally fixable. I can't even begin to explain the level to which I've stressed about this over the last five years we've lived in this house and there's possible a solution!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
A Mess. A Big, Big Mess.
Yesterday my husband came home on the early side (before 5:00pm, whee!!) He brought two things home with him.
The first: my favorite frozen yogurt topped with dark chocolate chips, granola and mochi.
The second: His layoff notice.
Honestly, I was more surprised about the frozen yogurt, as it's definitely out of his way home.
I don't feel even a little bit sad for us. We knew this was coming, we weathered it last year and we're in no danger of losing our home or living in our car. I do feel sad for my husband who loves his job and takes this very, very personally. I'm not heartless, but we're not headed for disaster.
The fact remains, that when the budget issues came crashing down last year, the district where my husband teaches knew they would have to cut millions of dollars from their budget. I don't know the exact numbers, but there was a plan to cut several million dollars per year over the next three years.
Last year, many teachers were eliminated, class sizes increased, programs like music and art were cut, bus services were reduced.
This year, among other things, they will be voting on furlough days. This is a lose-lose vote in my opinion. A yes vote for furlough days keeps more teachers employed, and keeps class sizes from increasing further, however takes away days of school from the students and a paycut for all teachers. A no vote means teacher layoffs, and larger class sizes. Classes that are already bursting to begin with. How do you make a decision like that?
When we went through this last year I was very clear about not pretending to have the answers. Other than planting a grove of money trees, I don't know what the solution is. I do know that these "solutions?" Cuts, cuts and more cuts? Are not solving any problems. Per the school district's recommendation, I am writing letters to the appropriate people, but that's small potatoes. The state has to begin putting an emphasis on education funding. Period.
I am not particularly fond of this spring tradition. Even if it does come with frozen yogurt.
The first: my favorite frozen yogurt topped with dark chocolate chips, granola and mochi.
The second: His layoff notice.
Honestly, I was more surprised about the frozen yogurt, as it's definitely out of his way home.
I don't feel even a little bit sad for us. We knew this was coming, we weathered it last year and we're in no danger of losing our home or living in our car. I do feel sad for my husband who loves his job and takes this very, very personally. I'm not heartless, but we're not headed for disaster.
The fact remains, that when the budget issues came crashing down last year, the district where my husband teaches knew they would have to cut millions of dollars from their budget. I don't know the exact numbers, but there was a plan to cut several million dollars per year over the next three years.
Last year, many teachers were eliminated, class sizes increased, programs like music and art were cut, bus services were reduced.
This year, among other things, they will be voting on furlough days. This is a lose-lose vote in my opinion. A yes vote for furlough days keeps more teachers employed, and keeps class sizes from increasing further, however takes away days of school from the students and a paycut for all teachers. A no vote means teacher layoffs, and larger class sizes. Classes that are already bursting to begin with. How do you make a decision like that?
When we went through this last year I was very clear about not pretending to have the answers. Other than planting a grove of money trees, I don't know what the solution is. I do know that these "solutions?" Cuts, cuts and more cuts? Are not solving any problems. Per the school district's recommendation, I am writing letters to the appropriate people, but that's small potatoes. The state has to begin putting an emphasis on education funding. Period.
I am not particularly fond of this spring tradition. Even if it does come with frozen yogurt.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Leaps! Bounds!
I had a mildly whiny and very angsty post all set to go, and then today happened. Glorious, today. (Don't worry, that post is still coming. Lucky, lucky you.
First of all, Bub walked into music class of his own accord. Typically he stops right outside the room and refuses to walk in unless he's being carried, face buried in my neck. Not only did he walk in on his own, there wasn't a single tear. Usually he spends a minute or two crying, trying to climb as far into my lap as he can possibly get, very frustrated by baby sister in the way. Now, in my defense, once we're in the room and class starts, he LOVES it. He participates, he smiles, he talks about the class for the rest of the day and sings the songs at home. Once, we ran into his music teacher when we were out and about and he just about died from happiness. He's just been a bit slow to warm up, but today there was no sign of that child. The teacher took notice and said that she's always happy when parents stick with it, even when there's an adjustment period, which I took to mean that I'm the greatest mother EVER.
He even accepted the stickers she gave out for kids who were singing. Understand that this kid does NOT like stickers, or band-aids, or sticky name tags. In fact, I think the name tag on his back was the single most objectionable part of being left in the church nursery. However today, he lined up and chose a sticker and stuck it to his shirt. Willingly! New leaf=turned over.
Then, OMG, then. On our way out of class, he tells me he wants to go potty. Like, in words! While we're out of the house! So we run up to the bathroom and he GOES. In public! Not on a tiny little frog potty in the comfort of his own home.
Naturally, I thought the best course of action would be to reward everyone with Chick-Fil-A for lunch, where two more times he tells me he wants to go potty, and two more times he goes. Did I mention we were in public? With strange automatically flushing toilets and NO FROG POTTIES?
This kid, he blows my mind.
First of all, Bub walked into music class of his own accord. Typically he stops right outside the room and refuses to walk in unless he's being carried, face buried in my neck. Not only did he walk in on his own, there wasn't a single tear. Usually he spends a minute or two crying, trying to climb as far into my lap as he can possibly get, very frustrated by baby sister in the way. Now, in my defense, once we're in the room and class starts, he LOVES it. He participates, he smiles, he talks about the class for the rest of the day and sings the songs at home. Once, we ran into his music teacher when we were out and about and he just about died from happiness. He's just been a bit slow to warm up, but today there was no sign of that child. The teacher took notice and said that she's always happy when parents stick with it, even when there's an adjustment period, which I took to mean that I'm the greatest mother EVER.
He even accepted the stickers she gave out for kids who were singing. Understand that this kid does NOT like stickers, or band-aids, or sticky name tags. In fact, I think the name tag on his back was the single most objectionable part of being left in the church nursery. However today, he lined up and chose a sticker and stuck it to his shirt. Willingly! New leaf=turned over.
Then, OMG, then. On our way out of class, he tells me he wants to go potty. Like, in words! While we're out of the house! So we run up to the bathroom and he GOES. In public! Not on a tiny little frog potty in the comfort of his own home.
Naturally, I thought the best course of action would be to reward everyone with Chick-Fil-A for lunch, where two more times he tells me he wants to go potty, and two more times he goes. Did I mention we were in public? With strange automatically flushing toilets and NO FROG POTTIES?
This kid, he blows my mind.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Training
Listen, if you've ever successfully potty trained a child, you have my undying respect. And, my condolences.
If I had to quantify how it's going I would say that it's fine. It's not spectacular. We didn't have success! in! three! days! like many friends of mine (all parents of girls, incidentally) did, but I would say we're about 90% successful at home, when awake, after a full week. I would say that this is a big step in the right direction. However, here are my issues:
1. He isn't always telling us when he needs to go. We're suggesting that he goes, or taking him, and he does. It's great that he's holding it until then, but needs to speak up!
2. I have no idea how to make the home/away connection. Right now I'm taking him out in a Pull-up and calling them "bye bye undies." (I KNOW. Is there anything more obnoxious than me right now?) At some point he's going to have to navigate the horrors of a public restroom and he's going to have to tell us that needs to go. Noticing a pattern?
3. Naptime and bedtime. Mostly my thoughts about this are as follows: Ha. HA ha ha ha ha. That seems so far off for us, that to think about it is ridiculous.
I don't do well with long term solutions. I like instant gratification. I still celebrate every single pee and poop in the potty like we did his first steps, and words, but man if this isn't exhausting.
If I had to quantify how it's going I would say that it's fine. It's not spectacular. We didn't have success! in! three! days! like many friends of mine (all parents of girls, incidentally) did, but I would say we're about 90% successful at home, when awake, after a full week. I would say that this is a big step in the right direction. However, here are my issues:
1. He isn't always telling us when he needs to go. We're suggesting that he goes, or taking him, and he does. It's great that he's holding it until then, but needs to speak up!
2. I have no idea how to make the home/away connection. Right now I'm taking him out in a Pull-up and calling them "bye bye undies." (I KNOW. Is there anything more obnoxious than me right now?) At some point he's going to have to navigate the horrors of a public restroom and he's going to have to tell us that needs to go. Noticing a pattern?
3. Naptime and bedtime. Mostly my thoughts about this are as follows: Ha. HA ha ha ha ha. That seems so far off for us, that to think about it is ridiculous.
I don't do well with long term solutions. I like instant gratification. I still celebrate every single pee and poop in the potty like we did his first steps, and words, but man if this isn't exhausting.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Bright, bright...
Stacia over at Fluffy Bunnies passed along the Sunshine award to me
Friday, March 5, 2010
This is getting out of hand
I'm terrible with names. I'll meet you, shake your hand and IMMEDIATELY forget your name. I really need to say, "Nice to meet you, MARTHA," if I have any chance of remembering, but that rarely happens. I'm also not terribly observant. I'll try to describe someone and they'll say, "Oh, the one with the super cute purse?" or "The one who has the most gorgeous ring?" To which I'll say, "I have NO IDEA what you're talking about," because I'm not a noticer.
Anyway.
Lately, things have taken a turn for the worse. My husband calls me 3P when I'm pregnant, due to the charming little tidbit in the expectant father book he read when I was pregnant with Bub that informed him that women lose 3 percent of their brain mass while pregnant. I've done my fair share of things to confirm this, but I tend to be a bit absentminded in general, so I'm not sure we can blame the fetus.
So.
A couple of weeks ago I was out with a friend at a kid's fair and three separate times in the hour we were there I tugged on her shirt and hissed, Do we know her? Each time she told me that she did not know that person or any of the others I had pointed out. Except that I did know those people. I had no idea what their name was or even from where I knew them, but I KNEW them. The more I surreptitiously stared, the more frustrated I became, because in each instance I couldn't pull even a tiny tidbit about how I might know them. The same thing happened yesterday when I bought a box of Girl Scout cookies outside of the grocery store. First of all, ONE BOX - the restraint! Secondly, the troop leader was shockingly familiar and I could even hear her distinctive laugh in my mind, but I had no idea how I knew her.
I can still see all of their faces in my head, but can not for the life of me retrieve any information about who in the world they are. It's driving me more than a little bit crazy.
There was a period of time in which we were mildly obsessed with Sudoku. They were pre-child times, but I think we still have a few books shoved in the back of coffee table drawer. It may be time to dust them off, before things get any worse, if that's even possible.
Anyway.
Lately, things have taken a turn for the worse. My husband calls me 3P when I'm pregnant, due to the charming little tidbit in the expectant father book he read when I was pregnant with Bub that informed him that women lose 3 percent of their brain mass while pregnant. I've done my fair share of things to confirm this, but I tend to be a bit absentminded in general, so I'm not sure we can blame the fetus.
So.
A couple of weeks ago I was out with a friend at a kid's fair and three separate times in the hour we were there I tugged on her shirt and hissed, Do we know her? Each time she told me that she did not know that person or any of the others I had pointed out. Except that I did know those people. I had no idea what their name was or even from where I knew them, but I KNEW them. The more I surreptitiously stared, the more frustrated I became, because in each instance I couldn't pull even a tiny tidbit about how I might know them. The same thing happened yesterday when I bought a box of Girl Scout cookies outside of the grocery store. First of all, ONE BOX - the restraint! Secondly, the troop leader was shockingly familiar and I could even hear her distinctive laugh in my mind, but I had no idea how I knew her.
I can still see all of their faces in my head, but can not for the life of me retrieve any information about who in the world they are. It's driving me more than a little bit crazy.
There was a period of time in which we were mildly obsessed with Sudoku. They were pre-child times, but I think we still have a few books shoved in the back of coffee table drawer. It may be time to dust them off, before things get any worse, if that's even possible.
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