Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Bub's Teacher: Hey dude, how was your trip?
Bub: Good! I got to play with the iPad!
BT: Oh... did you do anything else?
Bub: Yep! I colored on the airplane.
BT: Mmmhmm, that sounds fun. Anything else?
Bub: I ate grilled cheese THREE TIMES.
Three plane tickets to Hawaii: $1782947
Hotel room: Selling our soul + hotel reward points
Grilled cheese and fries for dinner: Priceless
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Other perfectly right things right now:
My first Dr. Pepper after 21 months.
A pediatrician who returns phone calls quickly. (Note to moms: Finding a ped you love makes life so much happier. We switched a year ago and I looove our current doctor.) He asked about our trip and didn't rush me through an obviously neurotic phone call.
My silver sparkle TOMS. These either make me look like Michael Jackson, or something out of the Wizard of Oz, but I'm a TOMS fan.
Gallon size Ziplocs. There must be six of them in my carry on. Snacks, activities, documents, extra outfits, diaper supplies, and my contraband over 3 ounce baby supplies, not to mention the several in my checked luggage for toiletries and multiple sunscreens. I'm officially the crazy bag lady.
Our first family vacation. And this forecast:
Monday, May 23, 2011
None of this was particularly well thought out.
Also, I'm going to need a Merlot IV by Sunday night.
We started packing last weekend, which would seem like it would be far enough in advance, except that the more boxes we pack, the more stuff we seem to have. And, even when a significant portion of the stuff in the house has been packed, I walk into the garage and burst into tears because SWEET STORAGE we have a lot of stuff.
I'm not without something to do at any point during the day, but I also am fairly unproductive because I can't really figure out if I should be packing boxes, or packing suitcases or making a decision about party favors.
To top it off, Bubette has a laundry list of ailments including: teething, coughing, congestion, refusing to nurse, occasionally refusing even a bottle and laughing in the face of sleep. I had intended to start weaning her just after her birthday, but now what do I do? Do I keep trying or just shove some cabbage leaves into my sad nursing bra and call it a day? One minute I think it makes sense to just be done. We made it this far, yay us. Close up shop, take my body back, visit the Nordstrom bra geniuses for something that doesn't unsnap in too many places, drink copious amount of caffeine, DONE. On the other hand, she's about to turn one, and she's my last baby, and SOB, you know?
Oh, and THEN, my mom suggested that Bubette might be completely miserable flying if she's sick and then offered to watch her while we go, which was incredibly nice. I just... can't imagine going without her. I also can't imagine how we'll explain to the pre-teen Bubette that we left her at home while we took her brother to Hawaii. It's one thing to take an adults only vacation, and other thing entirely to just leave one of the kids at home.
I'm currently hiring for the position of Chief Decision Maker, because while I have every dinner outfit of mine (and Bubette's) mentally planned for the entire vacation, I can't handle anything any more mentally taxing. Applications should be accompanied by powdered donuts and Hot Tamales.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Nearly 18 years ago I came home from school, went straight to my room and threw my things down. It was a Friday afternoon and I can still remember the unnaturally clean state of my room due to the house keeper's weekly visit.
My mom met me at the door to my room and told me she had some sad news. Those were her words. Sad. Not devastating or life altering. Remembering this moment now sad seems woefully inadequate.
My cousin, then two years old, had been attempting to reach something on the kitchen counter. Cookies, maybe. He opened the oven door to use it as a step and the oven couldn't support his weight and it tipped over. He was crushed by the weight of the oven. He was taken to the hospital and put on life support, but it was too late.
Do you know how easy it is to prevent this? We didn't. I would imagine that most people aren't even aware that this could happen or that there is a very easy fix for this potential problem.
According to this article, manufacturers have been requiring the installation of an anti-tip bracket that they provide with the oven. It seems to me that this would be a hard requirement to enforce, as proven to me today.
We had a new range delivered. Yes, to the house that we're selling. Don't ask. They made quick work of installing it and handed me the paperwork to sign. One of the boxes to sign was "Anti-Tip not installed/Release." Now, I'm not a boat-rocker, but I pushed the paperwork back into his hands. They were obviously annoyed, asking if I really wanted them to drill into our hardwood floors.
Do I want you to drill into the floor underneath my oven? The floor that will always be underneath an oven, and therefore always covered, forever and ever, amen? Yes, yes I do.
It took five minutes at the absolute most.
Here's a video on how to install an anti-tip device. Brackets are inexpensive and appear to be brand specific.
Maybe this seems unnecessary. Maybe you don't have children. Maybe your children are so well behaved they would never consider getting near the stove. Consider this: It's Thanksgiving day and you have dishes simmering on all four burners. You open the oven door and pull out the oven rack to baste your 20 pound turkey and your oven can't take the shift of weight. Then what?
Just do me a favor and check behind/under your range for the bracket. Then have a glass of wine to calm your nerves from all of the extra worrying you're bound to do thanks to this post.
I'm sorry. And you're welcome.
In six days I'm getting on an airplane and I'm taking two healthy, well-rested, pain free children with me. Any suggestions on how, exactly, to accomplish this feat are welcome. Also welcome are any suggestions on how to manage a five hour flight, plus airport security and rental car waiting lines, while still keeping my Aloha spirit.
Until then, I would like your champagne recommendations. Mama's taking a break tonight.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Thanks to Trop50 for sponsoring my writing about fabulous bloggers. This year Trop50 is granting 50 Fabulous Wishes. Click here to enter for a chance to win $1,000 to celebrate a friend with a refreshing attitude about looking and feeling fabulous!
Alternate Title: No really, I love YOU TOO.
Initially, when I was given the opportunity to write about five bloggers I love, I thought this would be a no-brainer. Then, as I scanned through my Reader for the eleventh time, my palms began to sweat with this Sophie's Choice level decision. The list you see below represents people I love to read, but by no means all of the people I love to read.
And in no particular order...
Let's start with Swistle. Swistle was one of the first blogs that I read a few years ago. In fact, she was one of only two blogs that I read before it occurred to me that there was a whole world of good reading just by clicking through to her commenters alone. I almost feel silly talking about her, because surely you know who she is? Of course you're familiar with her incredible way of talking about her Target clearance purchases and See's candy favorites in a way that makes you feel like you could read that sort of thing all day, right?
A friend of mine put it best when she said that she could read Emily from Not That You Asked talk about anything for thousands of words. Road trip vomit? Potty training? She makes it funny. And not even funny in an OMG, I'm so glad that wasn't me sort of way. (Although, I was really glad it wasn't me with the car barfing.)
Du Wax Loolu is just perfect for detail-y people like me who like to know the what and the how of things. She's smart and thinks about things and talks about her thought process and gives me the kind of fly-on-the-wall experience I like. At one point she was a daily poster, but she has since had a ridiculously cute baby and, well, apparently her life isn't all about me and my reading needs. Oh, and don't tell her, but I plan to drive straight to her home for her lemon meringue pie.
I'm tempted to refer to Elefantitas Alegres, as eye candy, because of her tendency to post the pretty, but it's a lot more than that. I mean, sure there are frequent posts that have me bookmarking, and wishing, and checking my bank account. That's not what keeps me coming back. There were also a slew of funny unemployment posts and sweet posts about her family and, recently, her desire to have a baby and how this can be so much harder than we are sometimes led to believe.
Jonniker. I feel like I see (read) the real her when she writes. Her love for her kid, the awfulness of colic, and the idea that pregnancy isn't all glowing all come through in a real, well written, honest way. I feel like I'm getting the whole picture, or as much of the whole picture as any of us are willing to share with, potentially, anyone. That matters a lot, because as much as I enjoy a game of "her life is so much more perfect" than mine, I like real more than anything.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Bub has taken to waking at 5:30 for the day and spends the rest of the day arguing with me.
No one is sleeping.
In the next three weeks we: go on vacation, have a birthday party for my girl, MOVE, have a party for my boy. All awesome. All exhausting.
Please, oh please let me wake up as Evie with the power to stop time.
Monday, May 9, 2011
The spa was perfect, although I was one of the very few people there alone. (Note to self: next year, take a friend.) I wish I had remembered to bring a book or a few of the magazines in my ever growing stack, but it's quite possible I would still be there if that were the case. (For sure, I would totally still be there.) Still, I enjoyed my massage and quiet time dangling my feet into the jacuzzi and the absolute bliss of the relaxation room. I found myself thinking how nice it would be to do all of the things I need to get done while my feet soak in a perfectly warm and bubbly tub. I took the fantasy a step further and wished I had access to my DVR, and the tub AND the squishy, comfy robe. (Someone get on this.)
After the spa I went to the mall, which was packed to the gills with people finishing their last minute Mother's Day shopping. I made quick work of finishing off a few gift cards, picked up my three favorites at See's Candy (California Brittle, Dark Chocolate Peppermint, Scotchmallow,) and a giant pretzel and wished I had worn better shoes.
I was way ahead of schedule at this point so I called my husband and told him I would meet him at my in-laws. He kindly suggested that I go home, alone, and I was tempted. Very tempted. Oh, so ridiculously tempted. But, I missed my kids (and knew there would be good food to be had) so I joined them refreshed and retail therapied.
Lest you think I forgot my own mother, we had an equally perfect Saturday. She and I, along with the baby girl of course, went to the Queen Bee Market. I can only describe it as Etsy, LIVE! and it was every bit as awesome as it sounds. We bought baby girl dresses, and prints for the kids' rooms, and jewelry, and ruffled scarves, and my mom made the snap decision to buy all of my things. This wasn't my intention, but it was a happy surprise.
It was really what I've always wanted Mother's Day to be. I hope my husband realizes he's started a bit of a tradition.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
I thought, I can't wait.
My husband and I start a lot of sentences with, "In the new house..." I'm not so naive as to think that the new house won't have it's own set of issues. But the looking forward makes me think that even the witching hours after naptime, but before bedtime, which must encompass dinner and baths and hopefully some quality time will be somehow better.
There are so many things about the new house that keep my excitement levels up, that keep me from finding the most mundane tasks tedious. Scan and email these documents to the title company? Sure! Call the bank, again, to confirm a tiny aspect of our loan has been handled and wait on hold until the right person can handle my call? Love to!
I recognize that there are things, a lot of them, that I'll miss about this house, our first home. I love this neighborhood. I grew up not five minutes from here and I know my way around. I have good friends here, and I that didn't happen overnight. My book club is throwing me a going away-ish party and I want to scream, "But I'm not leaving! You can't get rid of me!" The truth is, I have every intention of still staying in my book club. I'm not moving that far. But I won't be just around the corner anymore, it's true. In this house I can hear and see downstairs, quite easily from upstairs. Not so much in the new house. The new house is new construction and our home is part of the first phase of this particular development. This means that we'll be dealing with construction on the homes immediately surrounding ours for about a month, and construction in the neighborhood for a while.
All the same, I can just barely contain my excitement. It's a brand new house in a neighborhood I love. It's a neighborhood I'll know just as well as I know this one someday. And, there's a Trader Joe's just around the corner. Is there anything that can't be made better by a little sparkling lemonade and some Joe's O's?
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
My, how quickly things change. You are on the move my not so little girl. You full-on crawl as fast as you can to wherever you want to go. You make your way from room to room on a one woman mission to locate all of the electrical outlets and rid them of their protective covers. You put everything into your mouth, including whatever your fingers can scrape out of the carpet. You're cute, but kind of gross.
I have the invitations for your birthday party sitting right next to me, begging to be addressed and mailed. We can't wait to celebrate with you, but we absolutely can not believe how quickly time has gone.
I am living in the moment with you, not wishing any of it away. You are free with your smiles and happily reach for the nearest set of arms to hold you. You still eat anything you're offered, but refuse a sippy cup. Let me be the first to tell you that this will be a problem in about a month. You still prefer a middle of the night visit or two, although your dad swears you sleep through the night. For the most part your prefer your bed, and only your bed, for sleeping. In cases of extreme exhaustion, you will nap in the car, but the stroller - HA! Grandma's beautiful crib? Nope. Not before midnight, at least.
Have I mentioned that your newfound super duper crawling skills mean that you're into EVERYTHING? I must have kept Bub much more contained, because I can not remember this level of redirection. First order of business in the new house? Babyproofing.
Mostly, life is so good, filled with these moments of pure, baby joy. Unless I'm taking away the magazine you're intent on destroying. Then, cover your ears folks.
Next monthly post: your birthday!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Honestly, it's not the waiting that bugs me, it's the process. It's the wondering if every single phone call is someone saying, "Hey, we're in the neighborhood and wondering if we might be able to take a look at your home." (This happened. I said yes and my doorbell rang 20 seconds later.) It's cleaning all Saturday morning for a showing, leaving the house fifteen minutes before their scheduled arrival, and coming home to a message that they're not going to make it. So sorry. It's hauling my kids all around town so we're out of the way for a showing scheduled between 2:00 and 4:00 pm.
I get that you're probably looking at more than one house and that traffic is unpredictable. But a two-hour window? Is unacceptable. It's even more unacceptable that the window falls directly in the middle of naptime. What do I do? Hold off on naps? Skip them entirely? Put them down and then wake them when they arrive while holding off the dog who's bark-bark-barking his fool head off? (My husband fielded the call. I might have asked that they give me a call when they were on their way.)
I wish we could move now, like tomorrow. I'm so anxious to be in the new house that even the prospect of two mortgages doesn't seem all that bad.