Friday, July 31, 2009

And I was worried about doing something foolish!

The first night of my BlogHer trip I had dinner at a fancy restaraunt with some other lovely lady bloggers. The setting was lovely, the wine abundant, and the conversation lively and enjoyable.

It was a night out the likes of which haven't been seen by me in at least three years. Or ever, really, since I went to grad school in a very small town whose fanciest? fancyest? most fancy? restaraunt was Chili's. And we had no money.

So there I was, all dressed up in a dress and heels and not-babyproof jewelery, holding my Pinot and talking to my friend Sarah about how much grad school sucked and how much I miss it anyway, when another woman at the table innocently interrupted me.

And then I did something so embarassing that I repressed the memory until nearly a week later when I was lying in bed a time-zone and a world away from Chicago nursing Wesley back down at four o'clock in the morning.

I reflexively held up my index finger, and without looking at her, said (in my very best cheerful but firm mommy-voice of course) "Just a minute, Sweetie!" then picked right up where I'd left off with Sarah.

The room spun a little in my head when I realized what I'd done, but I tried to gloss over it by totally avoiding eye contact with the poor woman for at least twenty minutes until our appetizers arrived and provided a distraction.

And no, I did not try to cut her meat or push her drink back from the edge of the table.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

The Son my Dad Always Wanted

Captain Charlie

Shortly after this picture was taken Charlie started driving the boat in tight donuts like a teenager (minus the case of Natural Light contributed by someone's big brother).

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

I'm a Maine-iac

Our days start early here in Maine, where the lobster men take their noisy diesel boats out around five, invariably waking Wesley up from his sound-ish Pack and Play slumber. Going back to sleep is not an option when there are grandparents to cuddle you, blueberries to eat, brothers to torment, and rocks to eat. So Ryan's been getting up with him. They amuse themselves by eating bananas and taking pictures, apparently. I amuse myself by going back to sleep next to Charlie, the two-year-old teenager who now sleeps until eight.

Wesley, early morning

Before you feel too sorry for Ryan, know that he sailed with my dad for two hours today. The sailed around an island for goodness sake.

Sometimes after breakfast Charlie likes to dress like a Christmas Elf and head to the front yard for some driving practice. Common goals for my brother-in-law are to hit the boat or the pine tree, but Charlie is usually satisfied with chipping it into the water. It's a bad week to be a bird or sea creature.

Golfing

When more a sedate activity appeals, we like to sit on the porch and watch the scenery. My aunt is wearing her swimsuit in this picture because she and Ryan and my sister and brother-in-law are a bunch of crazy fools who thought it would be fun to jump in the freezing water and swim around. Having renounced peer pressure as a driving force in my decision making, I abstained. Although they seemed to be having fun, I have no regrets. I was more than happy to listen to their shocked yelps from the comfort of the front porch.

Porch Sitting

Charlie has been chomping at the bit to throw rocks into the ocean ever since he noticed the happy juxtaposition of a bunch of rocks and the ocean, so today at high tide we all trooped down there to do some rock throwing. Wesley preferred sunning himself on the rocks and splashing in tidal pools.

Wesley at the Beach

Charlie was dry in this picture, but he soon abandoned rock throwing in favor of jumping in the cold water all the way up to his neck. Later he put on a lifejacket and jumped off the dock into Ryan's arms in the freezing water. Crazy damn fools.

Charlie at the Beach

Charlie, Ryan, and I went for a family sail boat ride, which has been Ryan's dream ever since a faint pink line appeared on the pregnancy test in March 2006.

Boating Charlie

Family Sailing

This evening we had cocktail hour on my grandparents' porch. Wesley the party animal promptly fell to sleep as soon as my mom started rocking her chair. All of the fresh air is making both of them sleep like rocks during naptime (which unfortunately does not overlap, at all resulting in an approximately five hour stretch in the afternoon during which I can't really leave the porch. Not that I mind that ONE BIT).

Wesley at Cocktail Hour

I could stay here forever.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

BlogHer

Last week I flew all by myself to attend BlogHer 2009 in Chicago. BlogHer was only part of the reason for going. It was also a great time to meet some of my online friends who I have gotten to know over the last couple of years. Meeting Sarah, Sarah, and Amy wasn't like meeting someone I'd never met before, but more like reuniting with old friends from college.

Shortly after we met we got into a cab and headed out for dinner where we established a routine of swearing and drinking too much that lasted all weekend.

Oh, and was a New York Times Bestselling author there too. That was pretty awesome.

SO MUCH FUN.

The conference got off to a rocky start when Sarah and I attended one of the Mommy Blogging sessions and it fell completely flat. Later it would be redeemed when I went to an instructional session given by these people that was super informative and interesting, but we left the Mommy Blogging session before it was over and spent a few minutes walking around the city near our hotel.

I showed my new friend how cool I was by walking around with my mouth open talking about how pretty everything was and taking pictures of any building taller than three stories.

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At night we got dressed up and went to parties. My version of getting dressed up meant I put on my dress and then sat on the bed panicking inside while the other girls fussed over their hair and make-up and emerged from the bathroom looking completely gorgeous and appropriate for a night of partying then grabbed my free swag lip gloss from my conference tote bag and tried to act cool while I shakily applied it in the mirror.

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Parties were fun but there's nothing like relaxing in your hotel room with some midnight snacks and your laptop to top off a day of girly blog fun.

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It was all very reminiscent of a college road trip (or so I've heard, since all of the college road trips in my recent memory involved thousands of dollars of meteorological instrumentation, terrible weather, and a lot of really disgusting gas station food). We even took pajama pictures!

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These girls were SO MUCH FUN. Just as smart and beautiful as I knew they would be after reading their blogs for two or more years. Getting to know them was certainly the highlight of the trip.

One thing I noticed at the conference was how smart all of the other women were. It was energizing to flit back and forth between frivolous conversations about kids and husbands and clothes and more serious conversations about current events, women's issues, and politics. What an honor to be in their company.

On Saturday, after Ryan sent me this picture:

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of him getting ready to leave our house by himself with both boys and two weeks worth of crap, I let Jan hold the door as I climbed into the Town Car that would take me to the airport.

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And I tried not to feel too guilty (ha!) as I rode in complete silence all the way there. Or when Jan got my luggage out of the trunk for me mere steps from the ticket counter.

The weekend away was fantastic, but I was so happy to see Ryan and the boys at the Boston airport. Wesley was so overcome to see me that he burst into tears when I walked up. Charlie had already been crying about something unrelated and immediately wanted to be held so he could tell me all about it. Then we got lost in the rental car, took a scenic driving tour of Cambridge by accident, begged Charlie to be quiet for 3.5 of the four hour car ride until he finally fell asleep, then arrived safely at the summer house of my grandparents in Maine.

Now it is time to relax!

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Items may have shifted during flight

After our plane reached its cruising altitude I stood up to get my iPod from my bag in the overhead compartment. Another bag was on top of mine so I pulled it out partway and as I did something fell out of the bin and landed smack in the lap of the guy sitting in front of me. I was still rummaging in my bag when he interrupted me.

He was holding a white tube out as far away from his body as he could by finger and thumb.

"I think you dropped this" he said.

I thanked him and took the tube from him, thinking it was diaper rash cream. I turned it over.

It was VAG*ISIL. And NOT MY Vag*isil either! And it was almost completely used up!

"Oh no no no no no. That's not mine" I said weakly and giggled unconvincingly.

Then I threw it as far as I could back into the overhead compartment.

I was extra careful when I took my bag out at the airport.

2nd City Bound

This morning I took the cue cards from my defense out of my school bag and replaced them with a Newsweek and my iPod because I'm going to BlogHer baby!

I'm leaving the boys with Ryan and my newly resurrected back yard in the hands of my cousin (good luck Tim, wear gloves if you pull the purple weeds or they'll scratch you all to hell).

After BlogHer I will be flying to Boston to reunite with the fam for two weeks of vacation. Suddenly I'm not so sad about not having a job! Interesting. Not really.

I'll still be posting, of course. But probably there will be less complaining about third-degree burns from my seatbelt and more pictures of Charlie playing in tide pools.

So, I'll see you soon! Some of you very soon! Yay!

Monday, July 20, 2009

This is why Ryan usually handles customer service calls

Thank you for calling The Electric Company. Para Espanol, eprimer ocho.

To report an outage or interruption in service, or to set up a new account say 'service'...To make a payment or ask a question about your bill say 'accounts and billing'


Accounts and--not now Sweetie, I'm on the phone.

I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that.

To report an outage or interruption in service, or to set up a new account say 'service'... To make a payment or ask a question about your bill say 'accounts and billing'


Accounts and service...shoot...accounts and billing...HEY STOP HITTING HIM!

Let's try something else, why don't you say your account number, and then press the pound sign?

WHAT DO I SAY IF YOU ARE WRONGFULLY THREATENING TO TURN OFF MY ELECTRICITY EVEN AFTER YOU CASHED MY CHECK, YOU BITCHES?

Let's try something else, why don't you say your account number, and then press the pound sign?

AND CAN WE TALK ABOUT YOUR RATES A LITTLE BIT? BECAUSE I'VE DELIVERED BABIES FOR LESS THAN YOU ARE CHARGING ME FOR JUNE. GIVE ME A FREAKING BREAK.

Let's try something else, why don't you say your account number, and then press the pound sign?

nine seven three zero zero five six one three seven six nine zero nine four four three two one six seven three two one zero zero... pound

You said 'six...eleven...five...thirteen...ocho...cinco...taco...quesadilla...five...six...a...b...c...easy...as...one...two...three'. Is that correct?

no...NOT CORRECT...INCORRECT

Let's try something else, why don't you say your account number, and then press the pound sign?

MAMA I go potty in my shorts!

DAMMIT.

Let's try something else, why don't you say your account number, and then press the pound sign?

nine seven three zero zero five six one three seven six nine zero nine four four three two one six seven three two one zero zero... pound

Please hold while I transfer you to a representative,

...music...

Come here. Look at me. Mama is on the phone and I need you to be a big boy and play with Wesley. Do you understand?

...music...

Your estimated wait time is...thirty-eight to fifty five...minutes. Do you want to enter your phone number for a call back?

YES.

Enter your phone number, followed by the pound sign.

555-243-4432

You entered five...five...five...ROARRRRRRRR...seven. Is that correct?

NO.

I go potty in my undies I go potty in my undies I go potty in my undies waaaaaaahhh.

Enter your phone number, followed by the pound sign.

Just a second, Charlie.

I go potty in my undies I go potty in my undies I go potty in my undies waaaaaaahhh.

I didn't quite get that, enter your phone number, followed by the pound sign.

-click-

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Thank goodness he didn't try to get up on the roof

Ryan came home from Best Buy tonight, burst through the door, and excitedly held up a thin box. "This is going to fix our TV" he exclaimed. "It's an antenna that plugs into the WALL!" He produced a black box the size of a laptop attached to another black box, multiple wires, and a giant electrial adapter.

He then busily set to the task of setting it up. I was excited too because, as the last holdouts in the entire country to not have cable, I have been getting progressively more annoyed at the way we only get two stations, and one of those is useless CBS ever since "the switch." The other stations all worked IN DIGITAL ON OUR DIGITAL TV just fine until "the switch," but now that we are left with no options, they don't work.

Instead of TV for entertainment Ryan now has me yelling unladylike things about the FCC at the TV as it blinks it's mocking little "no signal" light at me. It's quite charming.

After great effort he got everything plugged in right. We sat side by side on the couch and geared up for some channel surfing magic. Ryan turned on the TV and entered the numbers for ABC. Nothing. Then Fox. Nothing. PBS? Nothing.

Ryan, ever the quiet strength of the family, simply stood up, unplugged everything, waited for a break in the little fillibuster I was conductiong re: #@$#ing cable company conspiracy trying to screw us man, and asked me to hold the back door open so he could take the TV outside to see if it got better reception out there.

Our TV is not large, by current standards, but it is quite bulky and heavy. And I didn't mention to Ryan that it didn't need to work outside, it needed to work inside where there are no doors between me and the refrigerator. But I was curious, so I helped him then went back inside where it wasn't so hot.

Several minutes later I went out on the porch to find Ryan standing in the middle of our yard holding the laptop box part over his head with one hand and aiming the remote at the TV on the porch with the other.

Those two doctoral diplomas in our closet are the only thing standing between us and total redneck-itude.

Unfortunately, being outside on the porch didn't help the reception one bit. Ryan stood sadly in the yard for several minutes saying "I just don't get it" softly as he stared at the blank screen. Then he turned suddenly to the cell tower that sits in the woods a quarter mile from our house and said "HERE IT IS! IT'S RIGHT HERE!!" waving the laptop box part over his head.

Sometimes we also forget that the baby monitor is outside and turned up all the way. We're klassy.

He just finished forlornly packing up the new antenna. He was so disappointed that it didn't work. But he was hopeful that the next level up would work. The next level is "the most powerful household TV antenna on the market."

And the thing is? Ryan doesn't really watch TV. He is doing this for me.

And that is what chivalry looks like when you have a PhD in Electrical Engineering.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Hey, wasn't this blog called ACADEmomia?

I've been a bit lost on the blogging front since graduation, since there hasn't been a whole lot to say about my half-dead professional life. No wacky stories about taking Charlie to the potty while conferencing with my committee, no frustrating data/programming anecdotes, no juggling, no anything interesting or unusual at all, except maybe the bandaid thing.

Since graduation and the subsequent first week of stay at home mom bliss I have come to the realization, in a more mature and less reactionary way than you have seen here (swearing over crunching through Cheerios on the floor? That's old news), that I really enjoyed working and I would like to do it again. And also, that I really enjoy my boys and I would like to see them for more than an hour a day during the week if possible. Reconciling those two things has been/is difficult, and I feel like I should talk about it a little bit here because I am sure many of you are experiencing the same dilema.

So. Here's the breakdown. Charlie hit his delayed terrible twos and Wesley started crawling and slowed down his nursing dramatically like a week after I became a full time stay-at-homer. So, imagine being thrown directly into parenting hell at exactly the same moment your hormones start turning you into a total psycho and then take away three days a week of childcare and an outside identity and nearly all human interaction.

And then the rejection letters started coming in. So MANY rejection letters. And given the conditions of my current job, the magical world of full-time motherhood, it felt like the last lifeboat was leaving and they hit me on the head with an oar on the way out.

And then I started feeling like Margie on Big Love, who let her naked children scream from the Pack and Play while she sat on the couch eating cereal out of the box and watching workout vidoes.

Now, I know that happiness and contentment should not be situational. I get it. I chided myself daily that I needed to suck it up and find a way to be happy because I really do have it good. We have enough money, we're healthy, Ryan loves his job--his SECURE job, I live in a safe neighborhood where we can play outside, we have great friends, etc. I read about the Proverbs 31 Woman. I thought about her constantly, selfless, smart, hard working, thrifty, clever, and did I mention selfless and hard working?

So, through an embarassing amount of effort and some other improvements (Charlie is acting like a human being again, we put up a baby gate to confine Wesley to the living room so I'm not spending half my life picking him off the stairs/getting him out of the dog food) I have been feeling alright about not working. When I am on top of things, it really makes the family run smoother and everyone is more relaxed-- including me, I remember feeling extremely stressed out on my work days when I knew there was laundry that needed to be done and dirty dishes everywhere and no food in the house.

However! I am still looking for a job. And I have started asking department chairs at colleges in the area if they would allow me to teach for free, so that I can gain some teaching experience (I also briefly considered changing careers--high school teaching, nursing, midwifery, barista--but that can wait until I truly do need something to do, like when the boys are in school and I suddenly find myself with seven hours a day of free time).

And it seemed that it just wasn't meant to be. So I focused on being a little more professional in my home life--grocery shopping, cooking more, staying ahead of the laundry, taking the kids to do fun things. And I started to enjoy more days than not. And I also started trying to get some exercise and watch less TV. Both of those things made me feel lots calmer too.

Then Sunday night on a whim I emailed one last department chair and a wonderful university close by. He responded within hours. There were no positions open, he said regretfully, but my background and experience made me a very good fit for their department (they do! I had to pinch myself while reading their course offerings). He's going to keep my CV and information until the spring when they are making decisions about the fall instructors. And would I mind giving a talk to the students about my research? This fall?

I'd say I am not going to get my hopes up, but they already are. I couldn't stop myself from driving to the campus yesterday. It's beautiful. Maybe one day there will be something there for me. In the mean time I am enjoying my boys and looking into how to start publishing my dissertation work, in my free time.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

The real reason I need a job

Ryan warned me about the appetites of boys. I assumed he was referring to the teen years, and maybe he was at the time, but it appears that we have entered that territory already.

On Mondays I go to the store and buy all of this:

This will last the boys four days, if we are lucky.  Probably three.

AND two quarts of yogurt, a gallon of milk, a pound of roasted turkey lunchmeat, a thing of cheese, a box of cereal, two loaves of bread, a dozen eggs, two cans of black beans, and a couple of bags of frozen veggies that usually languish in the freezer until the end of the month when we are trying not to spend money and still have to eat (of course I get dinner stuff too, but I pretty much eat like a toddler at all other meals, so that's not really important right now).

And yet, after stockpiling our house with food as though preparing for a nuclear attack, I still find myself staring at the fruit basket Thursday morning (if I'm lucky) wondering what the heck happened to all the food.

THREE DAYS! And Monday doesn't even count because Charlie has lunch and snack at school that day. Wesley weighs nineteen pounds and I think we eat that much in produce in less than a week!

And when we do go to the store again, it's like they've been drifting at sea in a lifeboat sucking rainwater off a tarp for six weeks. I have found produce bags with HOLES in them where Charlie took a bite out of a peach THROUGH THE BAG. I have made impromptu sandwiches standing in front of the deli after picking up our meat order. And don't get me started on how many trips round the produce section we make on the days when they are offering free samples of pineapple.

It's staggering to think what they might be like as teenagers. I think we may need to move to a place where we can keep a cow and some chickens in the yard. And fruit trees. And twenty acres of corn.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Moron, Party of One

Wesley is under the control of some kind of dark force. It started after his "nap" this morning. His "nap" was approximately fifteen minutes of fitful car sleep on the way home from dropping Charlie at school. That was it for the day. The other attempts I made at leaving him in the crib to fuss himself down (as is our usual routine) only made him MADDER.

After the second attempt I made an appointment with Pediatrician Man because my precious schmoopy would never act this crazy--something must be wrong. Surely he has an ear infection. I was not going to make the same mistake I made last week, in which I was in the middle of dialing a Russian orphanage to see if they would take Charlie when it finally dawned on me that he might be sick, and not just premenstrual.

So I made an appointment, all proactive and stuff. And then I sat Wesley down and gave him some lunch. And YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT! He was FREAKING DELIGHTFUL for the next hour or so. Hmm, so maybe he was hungry. I dialed Pediatrician Man and said a little prayer that a different nurse answered the phone. Then I cancelled the appointment. And then gave myself a few pats on the back for not wasting Pediatrician Man's time.

An hour later he started rubbing his eyes and trying to lie down, so I took him to his crib and then got in the shower. Wesley was Not Pleased with this arrangement and screamed the entire time. It was a short shower. After I dried off and got him calmed down I put him on the bathroom floor so I could go to the bathroom. And that's when he started screaming and BANGING HIS HEAD ON THE FLOOR.

So, just because I missed Pediatrician Man so much and the way he "accidentally" grazes my boob with the back of his hand as he moves the stethoscope around Wesley's back, I decided to give them another call. I called them from the car while Wesley screamed from the back seat. It's more convincing when they experience the fussy instead of you just telling them they were acting fussy.

He had developed a nice little low (LOW) grade fever by the time we were called back, the kind of low-grade fever only I could detect, apparently, but his ears and lungs were mysteriously clear. Pediatrician Man told me gently that he was probably getting some teeth and then pulled Wesley's upper lip up to reveal two angry red and white squares on his gums.

Well, yes, I guess that would make him a little cranky. You see, teeth are outside my realm of experience since Charlie didn't have any until he was fifteen months old!. So in that sense I'm like every other freaked out first time parent who drags their kid to the doctor for every little whimper. Add to that our history of ear infections and wheezing and I'm quite trigger-happy with the doctor's visits. AND it's like 105 degrees outside and my $15 copay is a freaking bargain for a half-hour of movies, indoor entertainment, and stickers for two kids.

Tylenol and Orajel seem to have solved the problem. HUGE surprise.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Definitely grosser than the Roly Poly

The phlebotomist wrapped a Blue's Clues bandaid snugly around Wesley's index finger and said to me "It's going to be hard, but try to keep this on for at least five minutes." Wesley had just had blood drawn for a routine test after his nine-month checkup. I laughed and said I'd be careful and then started getting him dressed, a process that currently resembles the greased pig scramble at the county fair.

I crammed his head through the neck hole of the onezie I bought at Target on the way to the appointment when I looked at him on the way and realized the shirt he was wearing was far to dirty to be seen by Pediatrician Man. He shrieked with anger as I pried his bandaid-clad finger from his mouth and threaded his hand through the sleeve.

"Almost done, Wes!" I was sweating in the stuffy room, hungry and undercaffeinated and trying to remain upbeat. Another hand, another sleeve. More angry back-arching and shrieking. I laid him down on the exam table to button the snaps and pulled the bandaid finger out of his mouth again.

One snap, find the bandaid, two snaps, find the bandaid, three snaps, find the bandaid, pick up purse, find the bandaid, pick up Wesley find the bandaid, open door, find the bandaid, leave the room, find the bandaid. Wipe blood droplets off my arms and shirt. Stare daggers in direction of the lab. Resist urge to shout "Why the %#@$ did you not do this on his foot again?"

When we got to the car I realized that the bandaid was too soaked in blood and spit to do any good anymore. The receptionist gave me a new one, which I wrapped tightly around his little finger, making sure the entire sticky part was in contact with his skin. I gave it a couple of tugs to test its integrity and then pulled out of the parking lot.

I was debating whether I should get the Old Fashioned or Glazed Chocolate Cake donut when Wesley interrupted me.

"HOOOOORRRRRRRK"

Startled, I started looking for a place to pull over.

"HOOOOORRRRRRRK!!"

"HOOOOORRRRRRRK!!"

I felt around his face wildly with my free hand, while using the other hand to drive. Nothing.

"Ah ba ba ba ba ma ma ma"

I figured that normal talking must mean he had cleared whatever was bothering him, so I waited until we got to a safe place to pull over and check on him. I leaned over the seat and saw that he was breathing normally then checked his mouth, which was clear.

It was hours later when I realized he wasn't wearing the bandaid. And I never found it in the car.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Epilogue

About an hour after I wrote that last post I thought "What's a good way to get out of the house? Hmmm, let's go see Pediatrician Man!" I said to the doctor "He's had this awful congestion for five days and he's kind of...out of sorts...not himself." I didn't know that wild behavior was an actual symptom, but the doctor took one look at Charlie's nose and recoiled. "OH!"

She couldn't believe he didn't have an ear infection. As it turns out, Charlie was grouch because he had a sinus infection. An hour after he took his first dose of antibiotic he told me his "ears were talking." And after his nap the disgusting nose running had abated and he was back to his sweet, wonderful self. He watched some of the creepy fireman video from the library (think crusty old FDNY fire fighters talking dryly about using the Jaws of Life to "cut open cars like a tin can to get the people trapped inside" and talking about how the "outriggers on the truck lower hydraulically and lift the whole apparatus off the ground to stabilize it so they can extend the bucket to the fire." Charlie adores it and will not be dissuaded. I figure he'll learn something.). He helped me make dinner. He even shoved the lemon in the cavity of the chicken (It was one stick of butter delicious!).

He was a good host to our guests, sitting patiently at the table with his napkin in his lap while Ryan carved the chicken. He was cute and funny and, well, he was Charlie. And I feel like a huge j-e-r-k for not attributing his mean-spirited, tantrummy behavior to him feeling crummy.

Now we are going to go play in the back yard because he just hopped up when Curious George was over and asked to go out. And then he didn't try to kick me when I was putting his shoes on. It's going to be a GOOD day!

Thursday, July 2, 2009

OH but it gets BETTER!

So far today Charlie has had four hysterical tantrums over NOTHING and I've gotten two rejection letters. One of those I was asking to work FOR FREE! I can't even get people to hire me for free!

It's 7:20. This is definitely worse than yesterday.

UPDATE: God bless the creepy firefighter video we picked up at the library on Tuesday. Firefighter Bob and Firefighter Thor are my BFFs, is all I have to say.

And also, uh, well played.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

My morning

Charlie is asleep wearing his fourth outfit for the day. Wesley is in the exersaucer clad only in a diaper. Two potty accidents and then both of them "fell" totally by accident into the baby pool fully clothed (shoes too!). A grand total of FIVE OUTFITS BEFORE NOON. That's got to be some kind of record. Not that I mind the extra laundry or dirty kids, because that's not a big deal. It's the giant fight they both put up when I am changing their clothes that really makes me want to eat a whole tube of cookie dough. And the way Wesley makes a break for the dog food the second I put him down on the floor to change Charlie, who by all accounts would seem to have toddler PMS today. And THEN while Wesley was still wet, he crawled through the vegetable garden and turned himself into The Mud Man. And THEN Charlie took the three tomatoes I picked and asked him to put on the porch and threw them into the pool. After banging two of them together like cymbals first. Then Charlie, wearing his fourth outfit, decided to give himself a yogurt conditioning rinse. He managed not to destroy anything during the two minutes it took me to put Wesley in his crib for a nap but then dissolved into a puddle on the kitchen floor when it was his turn. Then tried to kick me as I carried him up the stairs.

Anyone want to join me for some pool water salsa? I might mix in the piece of mango I just stepped on in my last pair of clean socks. Yummy!