Codswallop*

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I had a long (cheerful! positive!) post written in my head about all of the good things that happened in 2011.  About our trip to Hawaii.  About finally finding the right school for my boy.  About a fun-filled summer at the pool.  About...

And then I ran out of things.  And stamina. 

Because the truth is: 2011 mostly sucked.  It just did.  Financially.  Spiritually.  Physically.  Emotionally.  Hell, even the weather sucked!  And there were EARTHQUAKES for crying out loud.  IN OKLAHOMA! 

See?   This year SUUUUCKED.  And I just can't bring myself to sing a song of praises for a year that my husband and I have agreed is our hardest yet. 

Yes.  Harder than the year my dad died.  And harder than the year my husband lost his job.  Seriously.  HARDER.

And do you know what mades this already shitty year even shittier?  EVERYONE ELSE IS HAVING A SHITTY YEAR TOO!

It seems that everyone I meet is bemoaning this horrible year.  It's everywhere!  The 2011 shitty-ness.

So tonight I plan on staying up until midnight (something I rarely do - because normally sleep is MUCH more important than some arbitrary number on a clock to me).  I plan to sing Aulde Lang Syne at the top of my lungs.  Who knows, I might even get drunk! (Ok, probably not, but I SHOULD.)

And then I might shower, just to be sure I've washed 2011 completely off of me.

Happy New Year everyone.  Here's to a MUCH BETTER 2012!



*Susan dared me to use 'codswallop' in a blog post.  After reading all seven Harry Potter books in the last 4 weeks, she is on a mission to bring clever Brittish words into the American vernacular.  Susan? You owe me $5. *wink* 

Loser

We've had family in town for the last couple of days.  Dave's younger brother (a thirty year old bachelor... know anyone cute? huh? huh?) and his older brother, along with his wife and three children. 

Having extra people around is not without its advantages.  For instance, on Wednesday I had to run to Target to pick up a few things and Dave's brother accompanied me.  It's rare for me to have an extra set of hands in the grocery store, and it was perfect that Brad was there when Paige announced that she needed to potty (ALWAYS! She always needs to potty at the most inopportune times.). I left William and my full cart of groceries with Brad while I ran into the ladies room with Paige.

Except.

My brain had some sort of short-circuit while I was in the ladies room, I really think I was so glad to have help that I let my mind go on some sort of vacation - because I realized on the way to the car that I didn't have my purse.  It took me a millisecond to put it together: my purse was hanging on the handy dandy hook in the bathroom stall.  And I got that feeling.  You know, where you feel the panic slide down your body like ice down to your toes.  Because: my purse(!) containing 1) the car keys 2) my iPhone and 3) my iPad.  Not to mention that fantastic lipstick shade that I'll never be able to replace.

plus? it's a brand new bag!

I have never run so fast in my life.  I'm certain all those people saw me sprinting to the bathroom and assumed I'd had one too many cups of eggnog.

But there it was! My purse!  Exactly where I'd left it.  I would have fallen to my knees right there and thanked Jesus had it not been for the fact that I was in a public restroom and, well, eeew.

On the way home (while hyperventillating) I told Brad that I'd been carrying a purse for something like 25 years and I'd never EVER left it behind.  EVER.  I don't know what got into me. 

And then today happened.

The entire group (ten of us) spent the day in downtown Oklahoma City. After playing at this nifty urban playground, we wandered around the gardens and gandered at the new skyscrapers, and finally ended up at the outdoor ice skating rink (they somehow cool the ice even though Oklahoma frequently has days like today where the December temperatures reach into the 70's - it's like magic!).  We all gathered along the edge of the rink and watched the skaters go by.  I was busy taking iPhone photos when it occurred to me that Paige wasn't in the shot.  I looked around where I'd last seen her and she was gone.

No one had seen her for a few minutes. 

This is one of the photos I took. Oh the irony.

I started calling her name.  Quietly at first, and then as more time passed my voice grew louder and more strained.  I looked behind me and saw all of the remaining 9 members of our group scattering around calling for her.

And here's what's weird: I did not panic.  I even thought at the time "wow, I am not panicking. I am totally calm".  Instead, I just started walking away from the group.  I was drawn magnetically back up the sidewalk where we'd come from.  As I rounded a corner a fair distance from the ice rink I saw her.  She was with another big family.  They were walking toward me and talking to her.  They clearly knew she was lost and were trying to help her find us.

She ran to me and started crying.  I thanked the nice family and returned to the skating rink.  We all agreed this was a good lesson for Paige.  She now knows what to do if she's lost: stay put and call for mommy. 

It's only now - hours later - that I think about the entire incident and sort of clench.  Catch my breath.  I'm thankful that, in the moment, I panicked MORE about the loss of a handbag than I did about my child.  It's rare that I've been so aware of an outside-of-me presence keeping me calm and in the moment.

I felt it today.




ps. When I asked Paige about it this evening, she said the nice family kept asking her what her mommy looks like and her reply was "she has big orange hair".  *Sigh*

The Cousins Are Here!

Recharge

I spoke to a friend this afternoon. When I asked how she was doing, she replied "I am a horrible, horrible person."  After I agreed (kidding!), I asked what had brought her to this lowly state.  She said she felt terrible because she has lovely, well-adjusted, pleasant in-laws, and yet, after four days of Christmas togetherness, she desired nothing more than being completely alone in her home.

My gosh I can relate.

A few years ago my Aunt Susie recommended a book called "The Introvert Advantage".  The book describes not only the personality traits of an introvert, but also the sort of things that invigorate and exhaust a person who is on the introvert side of the spectrum.  The book enlightened me to the fact that "introvert" does not automatically mean "shy".  In fact, "shyness" has nothing to do with it.  The main point I took away from the book is this: extroverts are energized by crowds and socializing, introverts are drained in those same settings.

Does this mean that introverts hate parties and crowds? Of course not! It's just that, after a time, introverts have to go away to a quiet place and re-charge. 

Which is exactly what was happening to my friend this morning..  She needed to recharge.  Even though her inlaws are fantastic.  Even though they are amazing house guests.

The topic of introverts came up again when I had the pleasure of meeting Laura from Hollywood Housewife over the weekend.  She comes from a large family, and we met in her childhood home.  We were surrounded by her siblings, her parents, and their NINE grandchildren.  The house was in utter chaos - kids running everywhere, adults perched on every chair and pouf and bench.  Toys strewn hither and thither.  It was a gloriously happy place to be.

And yet, when I asked Laura about it, she said that when she returns home to LA, it will take her a few days to sort of "recover" from all that happy chaos.  We both wondered out loud if most bloggers are like this.  Introverted. 

I myself have spent the day blissfully tidying the house while the children ran up and down the stairs retrieving toys and squealing with delight over their Christmas loot.  They were occupied, which meant I could recharge and settle back into my nest after a weekend full of family togetherness.

What about you?  Do you require a time of peace after the holidays?

I Won't Miss It

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In an effort to simplify our lives and save a little cash (ok, a LOT of cash), Dave and I have decided to cancel our cable television. Yes! Seriously!

We never have subscribed to premium channels like HBO, and yet our bill can sometimes reach $150. Whoa! 

We plan to order Netflix at around $15 per month, which should satisfy our occasional need to veg on the couch.

I honestly don't think we'll miss cable. Do you still watch television? Could you live without cable?

We Wish You a Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas, Internet!

Hey! The baby feels better!

And? The weather today was beautiful (50 degrees and sunny!).

Plus? This evening I ate my mother's cooking surrounded by family. 

And now, the stockings are stuffed.  Packages wrapped.  Santa's cookies have been nibbled in the most convincing way.

I never knew having children would allow me to re-live that magical feeling of Christmas.  I don't know who's more excited about tomorrow, me, or them.

It's the "Most Wonderful" Time of the Year!

Ah Christmas.  Mistletoe.  Holly.  Chestnuts.  Open fires.

AND LAST MINUTE FRANTIC TRIPS TO THE PEDIATRICIAN.



poor baby

Argh.

So much for cleaning and packing and baking and wrapping.

Instead? I'll be rocking.  And patting.

And cursing.

Well NOW You Tell Us

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So tonight at dinner, after our usual game of "high-low" (where each of us gives our "high" of the day, followed by our "low".  Dave, btw, ALWAYS says "this moment is my high - having dinner with you guys".  Which is cheating.  And also very sweet.). Where was I?  Oh right, IN THE MIDDLE OF A SENTENCE.  Sheesh. 

So after "high-low", I asked everyone at the table what the ONE gift they most wanted to receive expecting to hear what I've heard for weeks - an iPod for William and a Dora watch for Paige.

Instead, without a moment's hesitation, they both answered with what are officially The Most Random Answers EVER.  I'm serious.  They named things that a)they've barely ever mentioned and b)cost a total of twenty-five cents*

*Slight exaggeration. But STILL.

WHAT THE HECK?

My GOSH You People Are Demanding!

Fine.  FINE! 

Here are pictures of the haircut (which looks exactly the same to everyone in the world except me).

For the record, it's very hard to take a self-portrait, which is why I look like I'm praying.
"Thank you Jesus for this haircut. Amen".

Interesting note: I went to a new stylist yesterday.  My previous hair girl up and had a baby and POOF, she done quit me.  Somehow she got it in her mind that raising a child is more important that cutting my hair.  THE NERVE OF HER.

What was I saying?  Oh right.  New stylist.  So this new girl puts me in the chair and spends at least five minutes just playing with my hair.  Swishing it around and wiggling it to and fro.  As if she were the hair whisperer and she needed to divine meaning from my locks.  Then she washed it.  Normal so far.  But THEN? She completely dried it AND straight ironed it.  AND THEN SHE CUT IT.  She cut my hair whilst it was bone dry.  Bone. Dry.

Isn't that crazy? 

But also, apparently, brilliant.  Because the cut looks great!  And since my hair was dry and styled, she cut the layers exactly where they fell on a normal day.  GENIUS!

She *is* the hair whisperer!

And here are photos of the new handbags.  TWO HANDBAGS IN ONE DAY. 

I promise I will NOT hold my wrist like that while I'm carrying this bag in public. 

I will also NOT hoist my shoulder up like this while I'm in public. 
What the heck, ME?

I think I'm still on some sort of a New Purse High.  Maybe tomorrow I will be able to blog about Things That Really Matter. 

BAM!

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Did you hear that? That sound? That was the sound of me being totally done with Christmas shopping, INCLUDING WRAPPING.

Praise the heavens! Dance a jig! Let out an almighty YAWP!

And guess what else?  I got my hair cut today for the first time IN NINE MONTHS.  That's right.  You heard me.  I could have GROWN AN ENTIRE HUMAN in the amount of time it's taken me to perform basic personal maintenance.

I am clearly a hot, hot mess.

And after I got a haircut, I BOUGHT MYSELF A NEW HANDBAG*! It's RED, and I don't mind telling you IT'S MAGNIFICENT. 

For me, nothing in the world is better than buying a new purse.  I love the browsing.  I love testing different bags out on my shoulder.  I love investigating the many pockets and zippers and strap lengths.  Then, once I buy a new bag, I love the process of transferring all of my things from my old bag to the new one.  I love it all.  Every single bit of it. 

The only thing better than buying a new handbag IS BUYING TWO NEW HANDBAGS.  Because they were SO ridiculously on sale.

SQUEEE!!

So, how was YOUR Monday?  Clearly not as good as mine, because THAT'S JUST NOT POSSIBLE.  But still, tell me, how you doing?  Christmas shopping done?



*So, the reason I got to 1)get a haircut and 2)buy TWO (OMGTWO!) handbags is simple: Dave's grandmother (got bless her ever-lovin' soul) sent us money for Christmas.  Which meant that we got to go buy ourselves a gift.  Or TWO gifts, as the case may be.  THANKYOU Gramma O!  You made my day. No! Make that week.  NAY, MY ENTIRE FOURTH QUARTER. 

Baking Day!

Today was my annual Baking Day with my mother.*

And as usual, it was the very best day.  I mean, how can you go wrong with 1) spending the entire day with momma and 2) eating more cookies than a human should be allowed and 3) delivering all the cookies we couldn't eat to our friends?

It was heaven. 

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*If you're new around here, you can read the origins of Baking Day here. 

Yellow 40. Blue 5.

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Today was the last day of school for William.  Parents were invited to come to the school at 2pm to enjoy a little Christmas program, followed by parties in each classroom.  We were assigned items to bring - some brought cookies, others cakes, still others crackers and juice. 

Which meant that I knew going into today that William was going to eat all of the foods that he's been trying to avoid for the last week.  And I was perfectly OK with that, because I didn't want to restrict him on this special day.  Especially since we don't have to do any school work for 2 weeks.  I figured if his brain got a bit addled from all those dyes and chemicals it wouldn't be the end of the world.

Except it turned out to be just that. 

The boy was fine and dandy for about 2 hours, and then it was almost like a switch had been thrown.  He started out surly, then he phased into grumpy, and finally he turned downright mean and angry.

And let me just tell you, my kid is a LOT of things, but mean and angry are not words I would EVER use to describe him.  At one point this afternoon he KICKED HIS SISTER.

Why? Because she was crying.  And he didn't like the noise.  And would you like to know WHY she was crying? Because he'd whacked her with a lightsaber.  In the nose! 

All this to say, I think these Feingold Diet people might be on to something.

Maybe.

It's Snack Time? AGAIN?

I have one child who is happy to eat three square meals per day (William), and one child (ahem: PAIGE) who would like to graze ALL THE LIVE LONG DAY.

And the thing is, Paige is obedient, which means that she follows my rules.  Which means that she always asks before helping herself to food.  Which means? SHE'S ASKING ME FOR FOOD ALLLLLL THE TIME.

God bless her soul.

But last week, I finally figured out a system where my little billy goat could graze to her hearts content without nibbling away at mommy's nerves.

Presenting The Snack Tray:

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I fill it each morning with healthy choices and leave it on the kitchen table.  Paige is allowed to munch away throughout the day, no asking required.  I feel so smart! And also stupid! Because why did it take me this long to figure this out?

Boy, if only I were having a third baby, because I really think by the third try, I could get this mothering thing right.

Sigh.

Playing Ketchup. Hold the Cheese.



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I took a few days off of writing on this here blog.  I dunno.  I've been busy.  What? Cut me some slack. It's Christmas! Also, my one kid is struggling a little.  My other kid won't stop talking.  So much talking. 

Today she told me they taught her in school that Jesus took a Major Bath.  After last week's mis-heard lyrics, it didn't take me long to discern that Jesus was born in a MANGER in BATHleham.

God bless her.  She gets it MOSTLY right.  Mostly.

And about William.  He's actually doing a little better.  A little. Maybe. (?).  I don't know.  We changed his diet on the recommendation of The All-Knowing Internet.  Is that the dumbest thing you've ever heard? 

Probably.

And yet, it appears (so far? maybe?) to be working. 

Problem is, taking things like DAIRY and ANYTHING ARTIFICIAL out of our diets has proven to be MUCH more complicated than I would have guessed.  Not only is the word "artificial" on every label I find, but I'm also faced with the fact that IT'S CHRISTMAS, and you know what? HOLIDAY SKITTLES ARE VERY ARTIFICIAL!

Shocking! I know!

That's all I have for you today -  Jesus took a Major Bath and Skittles are not at all organic.  Aren't you glad you stopped by?

I Wonder if This is How Rock Stars Feel

Burdened

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At one point during lessons today, William put his wee little head in his hands and said "I need to go to the hospital - there's something wrong with my brain and I'm not smart anymore". He couldn't focus. He was so frustrated.

The sight of him there broke my heart into a million tiny pieces. I physically ached for him.

No one tells you when you become a mother, that someday this tiny baby in your arms will suffer pain. And when it does, you will feel it too. Only exponentially. That you will envision yourself lifting this pain from their shoulders and walking around with it yourself. No matter how heavy the load, you will gladly take it upon your back and carry it. You will make it yours. You will take the pain away.

And no one tells you that you can't. You can't carry their suffering around. It's theirs. You can't have it.

You can't fix it.

But that won't stop you from trying. Because that's your baby there. In pain. And you know that this job? This motherhood thing? You can't screw it up. You can't. Because if you fail at this, nothing else that you do in life will really matter.

But no pressure.

Honest Mistake

This kid is 3 1/2 today.  How did THAT happen?

So pick Paige up from Mother's Day Out today and  - as is our usual practice -  we drove home discussing her day.  We typically start this conversation off with a rundown of Those Who Were Bad and end with a listing of Those Who Are My New Best Friends.  Somewhere in between we also discuss (in minute detail) All Things Eaten During the Day.

This conversation is riveting, as you might imagine.

As we were going through Those Who Were Bad, Paige mentioned a new name.  "Anna".  Anna, apparently, made the "bad" list because "she always looks so angry".  Then Paige demonstrated Anna's angry face by putting her palm on her forehead and puuuuuushing it downward so as to squish her eyes into tiny slits.

And that's when I realized she was referring to the (very well-mannered and not-at-all-angry) ASIAN GIRL in her class.

Holy Mary and all the wise men I'm raising a RACIST!

I quickly explained that Anna's parent/parents are most likely from another country, and in that far away country ALL of the people have eyes shaped like Anna's.  That God made her that way! 

Paige's response: "Well God sure did make those people look angry".

*Sigh*

Moments later, Paige asks if she can sing me a song she learned in school.  A song about a baby born in a bathtub.

Wha?

Well, it turns out the baby is JESUS. And the bathtub? BATHleham.

Folks, some days I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

ADD -

"Portrait of Willliam" - Paige (age3)

I bought a book about ADD today. 

*Sigh*

Internet, I say this with all the love in my heart: My seven-year-old boy is driving me insane.  Oh he's not disobedient, he's actually a very good little boy.  He's a rule-follower.  A people pleaser.  I adore him.  I really really do.

But the boy is the most distracted, spaced-out child ON THE PLANET.  Sometimes, I will say his name three or four times WHILE STANDING IN FRONT OF HIM before he hears me and responds.  And trying to get him to stay on task is next to impossible.  He cannot accomplish even the simplest of things.  Commands like "go upstairs and put on your shoes" are completely impossible.  He goes upstairs, then sees something - anything - and forgets all about getting his shoes.

His morning routine - which involves 1) brushing his teeth and 2) getting dressed in his uniform - is... is... well, he just can't do it.  Too many steps.  Too many shiny things to distract him.

I've made checklists and pinned them everywhere.  He has a 4-step list for getting into bed.  He has a 6 step list for getting ready for school.  Folks, I HAVE TO REMIND HIM TO PEE  when he wakes up in the morning.  If I don't, he'll be walking out the door (with his shirt tucked in and his belt on) when he realizes his bladder is full.  And yes, "Go Pee!" is on his list.  I mean it!  It is!

I've tried to make things easier.  I've moved all of his school clothes to MY closet so that he can get ready on school days in MY room (where there is less of a chance of becoming distracted by toys).  But it still takes him FORTY MINUTES to brush his teeth and get dressed.  That's ALL he has to do in the mornings.  We eat IN THE CAR because if we had to squeeze eating into our morning we'd arrive at school a few minutes before lunch.

My gosh I'm frustrated.

But at the same time, I think my kid is actually pretty happy.  He seems genuinely joyful most of the time.  The only times he seems distressed are when he snaps out of his daydreaming to find me staring at him with smoke shooting out of my ears because he's failed to do something I asked him to do ONE MINUTE AGO. 

So does this mean that all of this is really just MY problem?  Am I doing something wrong?  Is there some way  - some system I could put in place - that could turn all of this around? 

Should I make more natural consequences?  Like, if he goes upstairs and doesn't get his shoes he has to - what? - go to the store in his socks? And if he can't get ready for school in the time allotted should he be made to go in his pajamas? 

I'm being serious here.  Should he? 

Or maybe this is all about his diet. (?)  Maybe I should try, what? No dairy? No gluten? Would food allergies cause this?

Or is he just a kid.  A typical boy doing typical boy things and I'm just trying to label him? 

Oh help.  Help me.  Help this KID.  Help him before I lose my mind.  Help me before I yell at him.  Again.