The day I ruined my kid's love for rollercoasters

In preparation for Disney World, we watched a slew of documentaries. They showed us what to expect, the parks, the rides - it's on Netflix. It was perfect. Since she was tall enough to go on most rides we got to hear all about them, and this kid loves details. She decided which rides she would want to go on and others she would skip out on. Space Mountain was one she wanted to go on.

July 2012: when her spirits were free & full of love.

Background: when she was 3 we went to Disney. She rode the Barnstormer kid coaster and loved it. Since then at every carnival or fair she rides all the rides. Fast and nauseating - she's into it.

Back to Space Mountain: we got a Fastpass, and when it was time to go - the ball&chain let me go on with her. He'd been before, but I haven't. And when it came to rides JJ couldn't go on we took turns. As we walked through the endless twists and turns of what should be the line it got darker and darker. That's her kryptonite. Darkness. Outside & fast? She's in. Dark? She isn't a fan. I started to get nervous, but she saw the video clip about it? And she was still into it? I tried to play it cool. Then we saw the loading dock.

It's here I realized that I wouldn't be able to sit next to her. It's here I remembered a story a friend told me, about bringing her nephew on this very ride and how she and his mom spent the entire ride trying to reach him across the car. How they had to stretch out to reach him as he screamed, "I am not having fun. This is the worst idea ever!!!!!!" She still seemed into it, so I went with it.

Notice how far above t
he seat back her head was.

I put her in front of me - so I could reach her easily. If anything, I could keep my hands on her shoulders at least she'll know I'm there.

We sit down. She's still excited, though slightly nervous. But there is no out now - we are going.

The first few minutes, we are talking to one another.

Her, "I don't really like this. It's dark."
Me, "It's cool, kid - just enjoy it! It'll be over soon."
Her, "When. It's really dark."
Me, "Love you kid - isn't this fun!!! WEEEEEE!"
Her, "No."
Me, "Are you having fun??? Do you love it?" (I knew the answer to that - was trying my hand at reverse psychology.)
Her, {silence}
Me, "Babe, I'm right here. Don't be scared!"
Her, {silence}
Me, "Hello. L. You there?"

The answer was yes & no. Perhaps in body she was there, but her spirit? Was far far away.

By the time we got off the three minute ride, she shut down and scooted so far down so far that the T bar

The scoot down begins.
Notice her face? Dead inside.
Not seen: the worst picture possibly ever taken of me -
trying to get to her & failing.

that should be in her lap was up to her shoulders. She went to a far away place. She wasn't crying. She wasn't upset. She was shut down. 

It took a few minutes for her to come back, knowing that she was now safe - not in a darkness spiral. She came back to us, but was forever changed.

That's how my once roller coaster loving child lost her love for roller coasters. I jacked her up so hard, she wouldn't even go on the kid coaster she loved so dearly 2 years previously. In related news, I'm still awaiting my "Mom of the Year" award, surely this puts me in a strong lead {sarcastic font}.

Sisterhood in motherhood

I was speaking with a friend the other day, a mother herself. We shared stories about trying to find friends. Not the friends you grew up with, went to college with, worked with - your mommy friends.  The friends you hear you'll find in a mother's group or at the hospital with your baby.  Their children and your children will be besties.  The women you'll find that are in this moment with you - your sisters in motherhood. They share your experiences, they understand what you are going through.  You'll go to the park. You'll have play dates. It'll be grand.

I have friends in my life, that are my family - they are my sisters. That's not what I'm after. Though if I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind a good local lifetime friend up in here. It's more so, I imagined that this whole motherhood gig would bare a sisterhood among other mommies. A bond or respect that is instant or at the very least likely.

Except it's not.

I'm sure these groups or people exist, somewhere. I'm not saying these magical mommies are the unicorns of Fantasyland. I am saying, I'd fall over if I met one.

This friend I was speaking to? She has three girls, all somewhere around my age. Home girl was speaking from experience... but guess what? It hasn't gotten any better, not from my vantage point. What the hell, I thought everything got better with time?

If you are going to say any combination of the following, I don't want to hear it:

• Get out there!
• Be patient. 
• Are you getting involved?
• Have you tried local mother groups?

I've tried it all.

I join online groups (meetup.com, local Facebook groups) and I have been kicked out of more than one. Why? Because I can't commit to the daytime play dates. I work. Let's not get into that divide, the continued debate, the {dramatic music} mommy war.

What the hell, ladies, I can't meet for coffee at 9:15 or story time at 11 and you can't do this girl a solid and let me be involved virtually to start? It's freaking meetupDOTcom. It's a freaking website. I told you I would meet up at some point, just needed to work some things out. What's that? None of you want to meet in any hour that is after 5 pm or on the weekend? Awesome. Leave me out in the cold? Thanks. I really feel that sisterhood, especially when I get another deactivation notice in my inbox. Nothing says solidarity like a "you can't be in our club" notice.

Said profile picture that
repels people.

Facebook? I've reached out to people and volunteered where I can for local events. Nothing. The group leader puts out a request for volunteers - message me - they say. Message I do and I don't get a response back. Is my profile picture not friendly enough? For God sake we're a freaking Pinterest dream right here.

I've signed up for classroom activities, reached out to other parents in the class to see how I can help and on more than one occasion received a "we're all set." I've attempted to volunteer directly through the PTO and received little encouragement if any response. It's as if, they have their tribe - their people - and not taking new recruits. They are all set. My oldest is in kindergarten. For all intents and purposes, I will be in the district for years to come. Wouldn't you want to let me in, if only for the tenure I have to offer? I've attended a PTO meeting in a room full of people who all knew one another. Not one person introduced themselves. I smiled, I said hello, I was friendly.  I was shy, but not unwelcoming. In the same meeting they discussed how more parents need to be involved and how could they get people to be more active?

It took all I had in me to not raise my hand, "Suggestion from the peanut gallery - a little 'hello, and how do you do' is a start. Playing hard to get as adults is not cute."
Side note: Someone is saying to themselves: "Are you this hostile in real life? Cause I think I found the issue." No, I'm not. That's why I didn't contribute in that moment, because I likely wouldn't have been able to be all calm about it. Someone who knows me is thinking, "You are TOTALLY this hostile." And to that I say: it's different if we already know each other.

Could I have been more aggressive (in a nice way), could I have stuck out my hand and introduced myself? Absolutely. I have. It still gets me nowhere.

At a recent meetup activity I was able to attend, I introduced myself to another mom. Stuck my hand out and said hello.  You know what she did? Didn't take her eyes off her phone. She was on meetup.com to see the RSVP list. She said she wanted to "see if she recognized anyone by their picture to introduce herself to." As I was introducing myself, live - and in person. 

I have this dream that I'll find my tribe. Forget the tribe, I'll take a warm body (that makes some semblance of eye contact). They have to be out there, right?  I'm looking for quality over quantity. I'm hoping for one person to let me in their club; to show me this comradery of motherhood - face to face.

Side note: did you know they make 'mommy play date cards'? I can't seem to get a hello, but somewhere, someone out there is meeting so many people she needs freaking business cards? How in the hell?

Source: etsy.com via Amanda on Pinterest

I'm going to keep trying. I'm going to keep at it. It doesn't help I'm coming from a place of starting out.  I've been the new girl for the last few years. I'm always starting this search. I cannot wait to not be the new one. When I come in contact with the 'next' new person - hold on, girl. Mama's gonna make you feel welcome, it will be uncomfortable for both of us - I'm sure.  I can assure you it's better than the alternative.

To do: steal this from the hospital

As I think about what to get a loved one for her baby shower, all I can think about is the most important gift no one ever gave me. A list of things to lift from the hospital.

Forget onesies, or "layette sets" as they are called. The endless newborn or 0-6 month old outfits. Spoiler alert: these only fit for up to 6 months if you are lucky. And if you have an 11 lb baby, guess what? Doesn't.Fit. Who needs another wash cloth (seriously, why did I get so many wash cloths)? Or a baby blanket (irony, to come). What I needed, what every mom needs, is a list of things that likely are the root of the jack up of medical bills. Listen, you are going to pay the price of a car (albeit used), you might as well get something out of it. Yes, I know you are getting a baby - but last I checked it's not for making the baby. It's for taking the baby out. What kind of racket is this?

Here is my list of must haves. Get yo sticky fingers on.

• Binkies.
  Grab as many of those blue baby binkies as your pockets can hold. With our first, we walked out with one - maybe two. There are too many close calls to count. You need to have more than one blue hospital nuks. End.of.story. With our second? I could open an Etsy shop to peddle my extras.
•  A hospital blanket.
  See irony. The thing is, my babies are going to have "their" hospital blanket. Sure for our first we only grabbed one, and that may or may not have been the "one" that the dog got to sleep with and smell to get her used to the baby's smell. I love that when they get older I'll hopefully forget that part of the story and they'll have a blanket with the hospital they were born in stamped on it.
• Hats.
  With my first, I took none - and those bastards fit on any size head. With my second - I stocked up. SUPER convenient. Yea, I prefer a hat that has ears - but these were her everyday wear - when needed. You seriously never know when you'll need a hat. You bring these out, and if you lose one - no big whoop (if you lifted enough). 
• As.many.breast.milk.storage.bottles.as.you.can.carry.
  If you are going to pump, think you might, maybe  you will - hospital grade milk bottles are the way to go. End of story.
• Peri pads.
  I had to google their real name. They are the pads on steroids. It's gross, but you are gonna need them. Trust. 
• Squirt bottle.
  See above, even grosser - even more grateful I took it with me. Listen, birthing ain't pretty.
• Gold: diapers & formula.
  Most hospitals stock the baby's bassinet with formula & diapers. I thought of it as a hotel. If you take away the extras, they give you more. If you don't take away any, they don't give you any more. Use math here - and take away as much as you feel comfortable with. They restock. You stock up your bag.

I mean, it's not really stealing. The nuks I did totally swipe packaged ones that weren't used. But it's not like they can pass around supplies. With L, I didn't think about it - I just wanted OUT.   What am I missing from this list?

Criminal Moms

I figured, might as well get this down - so when it comes time for therapy we can point to the root of the problem, quickly.

Here's how it went down. Judge for yourself, do you agree with me? I shouldn't have been provided with the opportunity to nurture and raise children.

I went upstairs to put JJ down to bed. Home girl was tired and it was time for b e d. 

Side note, just yesterday I was telling the ball & chain that while I appreciate his help at bed time I don't need it. Let this be a lesson to us all. I do need him, my children need him. He can never leave again.

As I went upstairs, L was watching something on the DVR.  She's a fan of the Big Bang Theory. And as I type it, I get it. It's not My Little Pony's or terribly appropriate, but as long as there is no blatant sex talk - she thinks it's funny and it's innocent enough.

Seriously, maybe I shouldn't be allowed to raise these kids.

When I came back down stairs, knowing what is to come - I found her terrified on the couch. At the time, I thought she was trying to stay up later.  Stall tactics. I was cold, told her to pull it together; we were not watching another episode of the Big Bang Theory.

That's when I realize, the episode she was watching on the DVR ended. As the TV does, it flips to whatever was on TV "behind" the recorded episode.

The TV was on CBS. Criminal Minds. The first 5-6 minutes (always the worst) of Criminal Minds. I'm not entirely sure how much she saw. It could have been seconds, it could have been 6 minutes. I asked her what she saw and she said, "I don't want to talk about it."

Awesome. And by awesome I mean: worst.parent.ever.

I let her watch another episode of Big Bang Theory.  I even offered a My Little Pony episode or two.

She went to bed surprisingly okay. I'm hoping she only saw seconds, maybe the first 6 minutes weren't that bad? 

I was told by a friend, that some things are better left unknown. Don't watch the first 6 minutes of the episode. I think we can all agree, I don't make the best decisions. I watched the first 6 minutes.

By minute 3 there was a woman taped to a bed and stabbed with an ice pick cut to a firing squad style execution of a man on death row. By minute 6 a second woman was walking around her house, scary music enters the scene and she thinks someone is in her closet. There wasn't anyone in her closet. Just then? A man dressed in black comes from the side, throws her on the bed, ties her up with tape, and stabs her. With (another) ice pick. 

Yup. DSS can come right over and pick up my children.  I think it's about time, at least until my husband gets home.

Clear Thinking

A girls day out at the zoo - don't let the photo fool you -
JJ WAS having a really good time before I broke for a photo op.

The end is near. No, I'm not talking about The Rapture.  As I write this, the countdown is ON. 1 (very short) week from yesterday is the last night of my maternity leave. Depending on timezones, one might say even less by the time I press publish.

First, let's get the disclaimers out of the way:

• We are a blessed family in all kinds of ways - including having two happily working parents. We love our jobs, the companies we work for, the things we do and who we work with.
• I'm happy to be able to have a job to go back to. 
• My maternity leave + vacation time brought us most of the way through the 4 months I am able to take advantage of. The remainder, while unpaid, we made it work.  Planning ahead as best we could and changing our plans made it work. Missing a visit home, that sucked. Not falling down the Target hole of spending, yeah that was easy (enough).  That said, I have a sneaking suspicion after the holidays? Target is going to get hit hard by yours truly. Bam.

Are we clear? Good.


I am excited to go back to work, to get started on some projects that I know are going to be on my plate and the possibility of the projects in the future.  My job is something I have been trying to work on for years. I'm lucky. And if I may be so bold, more than luck? I worked hard. I work hard.

Are we clear? Good.

Let me also make it clear the last few months have been special. Beyond special.  With L, the experience was tainted. For a month, we went through the hardest in our life (thus far, and if I may be so bold - I'm all set with levels of hard times).  When we got home things moved so quickly - family and friends came and went, our au pair arrived sooner than it turned out we needed help and the next thing I knew the adult to baby ratio was 3:1 and life was different. It was important to me this time that things were different than the first time around.  The last few weeks it's just been me & my girls. Of course we had the family come and go and some serious help for the first few weeks but this time was different. Success.  For the last few weeks it's been me & my girls.  Some days were more tiring than others and without my baby daddy I may have gone mental.... but when I look back at our blessings - the last few weeks shine. Even though as I type this I'm fairly certain I have some dried puke on my shoulder. It's been a refocusing time - spotlighting what really matters.

Next week, I'm back to work but I'll do all it takes to stay focused so that when it's time to shut down I can do so.  And make sure I still get to spend times with my family, because they are what is important. And while I won't be with my girls during the day - like I can be now - I'll be able to focus on them with a different kind of energy.

Are we clear? Good.

Disclaimer: I reserve the right to review this here post when or if things get foggy. No one is perfect, least of all me.

Family Time & Time Served

Oh hello. How do you do? I'm back. We're back. It's great to be back. You might be wondering, "Where the hell have they been?"  Maybe you saw the last post and thought, "Oh well - they are settling into their new routine!"

I'd say a little bit of yes, but mostly a healthy heaping of no, not quite.

Side note & disclaimer: This is one of those moments I wish I hadn't shared my URL with family. Sorry people. But I'm going to stay true to what I want for this space, and just be out with it. Also, for the record - this is not meant in any other way but how I actually mean it: with all due respect, a little bit of raw venting and a scoop of sarcasm & snarky personality. You know, aka, my charm. Layman's terms? Don't take it personal. 

Whoever said that having a new baby was tough work, didn't have 3 weeks of family visits back to back. Truth: that was the real adjustment; not the tiny human.

We love that everyone wanted to come. We love that everyone got to spend some seriously good quality time with L and JJ. We love that everyone got to visit the STL. We love a lot of the last 3 weeks, but DANG it's exhausting. Of course everyone wanted to help; hold the baby, help with meals, help with clean up on aisle Guarro. It was great for a lot of reasons. It's also a lot to deal with.

First, it's overwhelming even though no one wants it to be - it just IS. Everyone tries to avoid it, but it's life. We have to figure out meals, things to do, making sure everyone has what they need, turns in the bathroom, where to eat, when to eat, what to eat, just day to day. Add to that our own schedule, hang ups and routines? It's overwhelming.  Everyone is a little different, and having a revolving door of visitors means no down time and just a continued ride through the door. For three weeks we had people arriving, then leaving and later that day arriving.  Exhausting.

Since our move, L has barely gotten back into regular schedule only for it to be thrown up on it's head (again).  Every grandparent believes in different sleep patterns (none of which are in line with ours), nutrition needs (none of which are in line with ours), and discipline expectations (none of which are in line with ours). As a result, home girl was MORE than a wee bit wound at the end of each stay.  The thing is, grandparents aren't supposed to be concerned with these things- it's about the fun - it should be.  It's also usually a day or two, not large blocks of time. Problem with that? After 3 weeks... it's not so much fun for the parents.  L started to take on some habits that might be common for other kids, but not OUR kid.  We're lucky; she's a well behaved kid, makes good decisions and is pretty amazing overall.  Is she perfect? Absolutely not, but regularly misbehaving and talking back? Doesn't happen. After a month of different scheduling? Home girl was acting out, screaming "NO" in our face, stomping around, huffing and puffing, tantruming about dinner or about anything and crying for no reason.  She is a creature of habit and needs structure; without it she's a hott mess.

Second, we (barely) have space for people, but unlike previous homes we do actually have a spare bed and space. I don't know how comfortable it was, but like I said, it is what it is. Where we don't have space? Vehicles. C's car barely has enough room for the immediate family, with the new addition (and car seats). Enter my (poor) car. I have a completely unreasonable car as a mom, and now a mom of two.  (Side note: Shit. I'm a mother of two. When the hell did that happen?) It's what I have and we are going to get a bigger car at some point this year.  It's just been slightly busy lately so you can imagine it hasn't been a priority. With that, we can't go anywhere together (with more than 2 adults and 2 kids), without taking two cars. On the other side of the coin, no one can drive the ball and chain's car, other than me.  If anyone wanted to go anywhere, they had to drive my car. My car, as much as I love it, is older, a convertible and small. It has it's own charm, but it also has things like sensitive steering column and ignition, loud side effects (the convertible top is not electric, so you can hear the wind coming through as you drive), and it turns out it is falling apart.  Every new driver would come home with another report of something going wrong with it.  The glitch? We couldn't do much about it because without the car, the next leg of visitors would be home bound.

Three weeks ago, when I last drove the car, there was ONE tail light out. After three weeks of the revolving door of drivers, as I write this I await hearing from our new mechanic whom I have become close with after days of conversations. I'm learning so much about cars.  I might become certified to fix vehicles during my maternity leave.  After three weeks of not driving, I drove my car the other day to the mechanic to get looked at. Now? My reunion with my car included issues such as, but not limited to: back brakes (totally grinding - metal to metal need replacing), tail light replacement, new headlight, turn signals out and not working, parking break replacement, something about an axle, oil dipstick replaced, and finally a broken glove box.  Doesn't that sound like something Hallmark movies are made of?

Finally, while there isn't much a baby does at this point - what she does effects the rest of the house. Some people think, "never wake a sleeping baby." Those people? Do not include our doctor. We need to make sure she is eating regularly and getting on a regular schedule. This includes waking her up every two hours to make sure she's eating. And oh boy, does she like to eat. Two side effects of these facts? Comments & confusion.

Even our au pair seems to ask pretty regularly, "She's eating, again?"

Yes. YES. She's eating again. Every two hours people. Every.Two.Hours.

Some people, even if they don't mean to, seem to be visibly confused when I'm trying to wake up the baby. Alternately, everyone wants to hold the baby - and doing so, the kid falls asleep which is what we are trying to avoid. Insert me trying to wake up the kid and the cycle continues.

Also (not) fun? Breastfeeding, every two hours, with a house full of people. I've talked about how I'm not a huge fan of public breastfeeding. I don't know what it is, I'm not comfortable. Yes, I believe it's a gift that I can breastfeed. Yes, I believe it's the right of women to do so or not - wherever, however. Yes, I believe it isn't obscene. Yes, I believe it's natural. Yes, I am a total prude and it freaks me out.

With L, I was definitely worse about it. I was covered up more, even in front of the husband. This time around? It's just different. I'm not as freaked out by it, but I certainly am not going to be whipping them out. I still use my cover up - even in the house, with or without family in the house.  That said, having the house full of people and most that are super uncomfortable with it - makes for an even MORE uncomfortable situation. It's like salt on the awkward wound.

At the end of our sentence the month, to say we were ready to spend some time with our new family of four, would be true. To say we raised our fist in the air and may have pumped them with delight saying "Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, Free.At.Last." May also be true.

Does that mean we love our family any less? Absolutely not. Does that mean we didn't appreciate the time, energy and money it means to visit us? Absolutely not. Does that mean we didn't appreciate the help and added love, hugs, and hands we had around the house? Absolutely not.

It means we love our family, as we hope our girls love us.  For the immediate time being and forever more, we're a family of our own with our own roles to figure out. Currently the role of best damn big sister is being played by L, best damn father, helper & cook is being played by the ball and chain, the cow, cranky B is being played by yours truly and the hungriest, farts like a man, adorable cherub of a baby girl is being played by JJ.

Stay tuned though, the roles are always shifting... I hope sooner rather than later!

Princess Diaries

I don't dress up. I despise dressing up. If I could live in flip flops and jeans, I would. I try to make that reality as much as possible. I wore flip flops on our wedding day, I'm committed.

(those are in fact white reefs - my F.O.C.*)

Don't judge. As I told my mom who had a slight temper tantrum about these... Jesus wore sandals; I'm sure He doesn't mind me wearing the same at His house. I'd want people to be comfortable in my house. 

I know HOW to dress up (barely). I can throw on a suit for work, or a dress when needed. I often times need some help with shoe pairings (see addiction to flatware / flip flops). And I NEVER look cute like I could walk out of a magazine, but 8 times of 10, I'm at least 'passable.'

 

I understand those that say "dress for the part you want, not the part you have" or "Clothes make the man" (or woman, as the case may be).  I believe it. I respect it. I just don't believe that's the way it SHOULD be. That's just me and I'm happy in my minority.  I believe there is much discrepancy with these kinds of rules and while appearance can be important when you are a donkey behind your tailored look - I just don't get why you would be more respected than the helpless girl / guy behind the more natural / rugged look. That's just me. 

I wasn't going to go in the way of clothing tirade. I guess the point is - I hate dressing up. You know who doesn't? 

My alleged offspring. As if the blond hair, blue eyes, fair skin and super tall statue wasn't enough to set us apart - she loves to dress up.  Seriously loves it and gets upset if she can't. 

Example: Over the course of the last few weeks, we have been ENCOURAGING comfy days when we are home - be it holidays, snow days or weekends. We would let her stay in pajamas all day if we weren't planning on going out. She will NOT have this. Over the holidays, she pitched such a fit to change - so we laid out leggings and a long sleeve. She panicked!  She freaked out until we got out tights, fancy shoes and a ruffle dress with pearls on it.

She requests dresses every morning, the more sparkles, the better.  At this point, we've figured out how to work in long sleeve shirts under SHORT sleeve dresses, because they have sparkles and that makes her world go 'round. We do not have a picky eater. We do not have a non-sleeper. I guess instead we were given a fashion snob. Could be worse.

She also KNOWS what goes and what does not. She had "clashing wacky tacky day" or something like that at school.  Knowing how finicky she is with what she will wear, the ball & chain kept her busy while he got her changed. When he was done, here was the final product and her response. A true quote.

I have forever dealt with fashion issues... and I birth a true fashionista. I am totally screwed. If you are what you wear, my kid wants to be a Princess. Awesome.

*F.O.C. = Flop OF Choice or Flip Flop of Choice

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year to Be Scarred for Life

Dear L, 

Remember when you were unfazed by the horrifying nature of the crazy man in red? Maybe his belly made you think of your mama? Who knows, but year one you were calm, girl.  Those. Were. The. Days. 

"What's all the hubbub about?"

Last year, we went to the same Santa. You would have thought we were throwing you down the highway to hell. Sure we took a year off, in-between the seemingly enjoyable experience, maybe you didn't remember you had a chill time the last time? Last year, what a different reaction. Sure, I am a horrible parent for allowing Santa to pin you down as I laughed (and cried) on the sidelines to capture the shot. I think I was trying to prove a point to Nana Lu, who insisted on these dang pictures. This is what she got for pressing the Santa issue.  This is what I get for giving my mother a hard time. Side note: don't do this to your mother, ever.

 "Get me OUTTA HERE!"

This year. OH this year.  I thought it would be different. You've been wanting to see the big guy for weeks. You were ready to sit on his lap and tell him all of your hopes and dreams (that we carefully placed in your head as parents we are licensed to do).  It was going to be magical, to watch the magic (not horror) in your eyes. Despite a rough night out on Saturday, Mama & Daddy pulled ourselves together with one mission for Sunday: see Santa.   

We waited on an (almost) 2 hour line to wait for the same Santa that you had been with for the last two years; he's legit. As soon as we got there, we realized either Santa got a serious surgery to shrink himself by 35 elves or a totally different guy altogether. You waved to Santa, you didn't notice.  You had a great time on the ridiculously long line.  It didn't hurt that the adult to you ratio was 4:1.  Nana Lu & MyUncleChris came and entertained you for the 2 hour line, but all was looking up. You wanted to review all the things you were going to ask for, you were READY. As the line twisted and turned around the mall all was well. There were smiles, laughs, giggles, dancing; it was holiday time magical.  We turned the corner and it was your turn to talk to Santa.  As we turned that magical corner, we entered the vortex of Christmas year's past. Last year to be exact. 

You held on to me as if I was about to jump out of a plane. I could barely pull you off of me to throw you on the Southern Belle of a Santa before us - but pull you off and throw you I did. If faced with a choice - I would take a warm & fuzzy picture showing you having the time of your life.  Mama didn't have that choice. My choices were limited. 

My choices, as I saw them were as follows:

A) Sit down in the picture with you.  First of all, Santa may have been Southern, but he was no gentleman - it's not like he scootched over.  Secondly, and really more to the point, with the night Mama just had it isn't even fair to put this as a choice because this was not an option, Mama looked like a hott tranny mess. 
B) Bag the picture altogether. See talk of 2 hour wait, not an option, Sweetie. 
C) Throw you on Santa and hope for the best (worst) picture to add to our collection.

"No. No. No. NO. NO."

You see my dear, childhood scarring aside, Mama had no choice. Throw you I must. I hope you get what you want for Christmas, kinda a missed opportunity here - not getting the big man's ear when you had the chance? (see last week's post - I'm channeling Rudolph's dad here).

Next year, we'll try again if you want - it's your choice, dude. But know this:  if you are going to have me wait on a line like that, I'm going to get a picture out of it.  Adorable or horrifying - that's up to you.

Love,
Mama

P.S. Don't worry. I put in a good word with Santa, turns out you are getting EVERYTHING you want and more.  Mama used a little bargaining when I had the chance. Santa had some choices too.

A) Give you all that you are dreaming of. 
B) Leave you there with him.

He decided on A - spoiling you. You appear much more unruly than you really are. Way to go girl. 

Where I Get My Genius On!

Today a learned a lot of things.  I learned what a meme is and how damn cluttered I work.  I heard about a one time meme through Laurin Evans and thought let's do this dance. She asked the question how do you do what you do?

Originally when we moved (I say recently a lot, but it's actually been a year) the plan was to rent while we look for a house and buy something. In the interim we'd be going down from a two family income household to a single income so we found a SMALL place with three bedrooms. One for us, one for the kid and a small office for the ball & chain.  He was going to be working from home. That was the plan.  I was going to stay home with L and I hoped be able to organize our life, myself and maybe even write a bit more, blog a bit more, do a bit more outside the walls of the office I was working in.  Enter a great opportunity to continue to work with the company I have been working with for 7 years.  Work from home, for a company I love and with people who have become more than colleagues, sure - why not? Maybe even having the best of all worlds? I punk'd myself and our plans for an apartment we had already signed for. What to do? Give the kid the smallest room which would have been the ball & chain's office - we figured she's 2 how much room does she need? The "master bedroom" and the largest room in the house became OUR office since we'd both be working from home. That's right, OUR office. 


It actually works, despite our completely different jobs, styles and volumes of voice - it works. 


We are different. Duh. You'll SEE how clear that statement is when you see our work space (you'll see, be warned). He likes to listen to music, I forget if it's on or not unless I'm working on some kind of statistic or report.  If excel is up - I'm usually listening to some kind of Jersey Shore - ish play list.  Fist pumping and beating the beat make formulas, formatting and data work for me.  I pace a lot when I'm on the phone from kitchen to living room (I forgot to take pictures of my path).  If my desk or desktop doesn't clue you in to how I work and/or how I write I don't know what to tell you.  I blog mostly from this cush little spot on the couch (you'll see), writing this bad boy here right now.  That said sometimes if I get an idea or start to think about some things I will draft them from my desk.  Sometimes if I need the quiet I'll go back to my desk and get things done.  My space may give you heart palpitations, but I assure you I know where everything is and there is a method to my madness. Confession: I may or may not have even straighted up a bit before the photos - but ONLY a little!

my go-to spot. me & my mac. my buddy. my girl.

Follow along with my mayhem, inspiration & space!

1. Oh Edward. Half joke. Half favorite decoration. I would have a life size cardboard pop up if I found one out and about. He looks over me and I look at him when on long conference calls. Swoon.
2. My bulletin board is my life line.  It stores all things important like rando bumper stickers, old holiday cards, fun greeting cards, things that make me smile.  Smiling = life life. Also a life line? Important numbers I can't seem to remember, including 4 digit extensions that I've known for years. The board has too many jokes that you'd have to "be there for" to describe but I smile every time I look up!  Cool artwork given to me by a friend that she found on her journey through South Africa. All good things go up on the wall.
3. Books, CDs & etc - I'm some what (totally) obsessed with dummies books, instruction books and how tos. In. Love.  I keep a few close by just in case I need to remember how to do something. Right now blogging ideas & using my damn digital SLR camera which I can't seem to use properly, despite my best efforts.
4. Dress I am due to wear in November that I may or may not be able to fit into today. 
5. Music station that DJ Jazzy Christoph mans and my second book shelf for office supplies, computer / camera wires, battery chargers etc - it may all look like a hott mess but I assure you everything is labeled. You also can't see my overworked label maker, but she's there. 
6. My to do pile, you saw the close up. Not soooo bad? Right?
7. Oh files files everywhere. The ones to my left here are things I need in a quick grab. 
8. Picture of me & my ex-work wife on a trip to Mexico we affectionately referred to as our Honeymoon-Springbreak 2004. Exes only because she moved and worked her ass off to become a nurse.  She's getting married in a few months and I am absolutely honored to stand up beside her in her wedding party. Only issue? See #4.
9. Here (usually) lays my mac & iPhone. Multitasking is at it's best when I need to text, work off my mac because my PC is ticking me off or otherwise occupied. 
10. Here stands dreams of projects or things to do.  Pictures to put in frames, albums, a craft box to do crafty things with (unsure what exactly), and boxes of L's artwork that the ball & chain can't seem to throw away. I can't say I help the matter - see red box full of art. 

Maybe it's because when I worked in an office where I could only have 2 personal items on my desktop, I've clearly gone rogue working from home. Continuing to work full time from home is ultimately a blessing, but it isn't always easy.  Figuring out the balance isn't always possible or easy (see wanting to post this before the end of the day and hoping that no one notices this is actually posting tomorrow), but I'll keep at it. I'll continue to make piles of things to do, sit in my spot, and TRY to make things happen. Oh and I'll also be buying my office buddy the most ridiculous souvenirs I can possibly find when I'm out and about.

Festivals are NOT for the Weak

My guy lived in the North End for the year we courted. I was in NY and he was in Boston. Unlike the gaggle of twenty something people I know I never called the North End home – but it was close enough having the soon-to-be ball & chain residing in the 02113 there.  He would complain about the smell, the crowds, the festivals, the tourists – the whole lot of the experience did nothing for me. He once lived in an old school apartment where they had to use the oven as a heat source and in another stint he lived on the 78th* floor up a stairway to heaven. No. Thank. You. Walk up? I think not. My cap is 3rd floor.

Being apart of the neighborhood you would think he would have attended the long anticipated yearly St. Anthony’s Feast.  This poorly planned festival boasts fresh off the boat Italino cuisine, carnie games & many a worship shrine to tack dollars to in hopes your wishes come true. What isn’t on the bill? The crowds of people. I’m talking swarms. I’d be afraid for lives lost if the crew from the Jersey Shore showed up for one of their many bar crawls ending in a bar brawl. 

Nothing says "St. Anthony's Feast" like a GTL Muscle Tank

Despite having t-shirt & souvenir booths dedicated to them they didn’t show up this year. You know who did? 

The Guarros: in full effect. We thought it’d be a grand idea to walk through this weekend.  I had to work this weekend, in the corporate office of the company I work for (in Boston) – and for the first time in for as long as I can remember I’d have a room to myself so since we haven’t all been together at any given weekend clip over the last few monthS, why not bring them along?  That was a good idea.

Bad idea? Bring a toddler through the hott mess of St. Anthony Festival in the North End.

Period.

I tweeted and emailed a few peeps on what to do – I got a few suggestions to head to the North End. More than a few people were DEAD WRONG. I think I replied something to the effect that I loved a little chaos from time to time, why not?

Why not? Well, self of a few days ago, I'm glad you asked.  Chaos with an almost 3 year old is not only dangerous but damn it’s frustrating and you’re angry enough for funnel cake’s sake. We walked from the hotel we were staying in and upon arriving we were hesitant. Let this be another lesson for you folks, go with your gut.  

After being essentially trampled for yet another food booth and pushed in front of while driving a PLAIN AS sight ORANGE stroller we made our escape. The good news was restaurants on the outskirts of the festival were ghost towns so we were able to have a kick ass meal with out the wait you’ll usually find on a weekend night. To pry the kid out of the restaurant quietly at 9 pm we went to our go to parenting standby: ice cream.**  Upon hitting the streets in search for the dairy goodness I think L got her nationalities mixed up.

“ICECREAM? VAMANOS MOM. Let’s GO!” – L by way of Dora. 

Thanks Dora. More on our walk home and the integration of her love for Dora, later.

*Exaggeration, reality was maybe 6? It felt like more. 

**Please note – we are well aware of the fact that before we were married, before we had our kid we looked at parents who had their kids out in the dark, never mind after 9pm. So judge away – onlooker. Suck it. Also – suck it if you are judging over the bribery go to. It works. You don’t mess with things that work. And IF you are one of those Mary Poplins parents that don’t implore any of these tactics – good for you. Big friggin deal.

The Love of a Parent (or Close)

I was resent an email that I wrote almost two years ago by a coworker.  She kept the email in her 'warm and fuzzy' folder.  This is a folder that lots of us have, where we keep feel good emails that make us laugh or well simply put, give the warm and fuzzy feeling. In reading it, I realized how much I miss this kind of interaction and childcare.  Especially coming off of a week where L's daycare has been closed and we've had to juggle childcare.  By in large, C was able to take off a few days but there was a day or two that we absolutely used the TV to occupy the kid.  I suspect this will hold up the delivery of my "Super Mom" cape, however sometimes most times I need to go with the motto, "whatever it takes." It is what it is. The following is the full email sent, though some of the names have been altered to protect the innocent.


----


Hi All!

This morning as the Kat (my au pair) and I were chatting about the day, her class from last night and the plan for the day when she asked me with GREAT excitement, “So… how was last night?!?!?!”

I looked at her puzzled because last night was okay but not much to get excited about- I mean I knew she had her big presentation for class but in terms of us- we just watched some TV and ate dinner but what else was I missing???

I said we had a good night, we relaxed, ate dinner- OOH right! L had her first meal of solids- we were testing out how that yummy rice in a box was going to be! I told her how it went, that while I think we got more ON her than we did IN her, she seemed to enjoy it all.

This is when I thought of you, because it was at that moment I realized how much I appreciate the Cat and how right the program is for my family.  She was so excited for L's first ‘meal’ and was so excited to see the pictures that I took! She said how last night she was thinking she was missing L's first real food and forgot to ask that I take pictures- she was so glad that I did. (Meanwhile I thought, of course I took pictures- she’s only 5 months old and I think I have over 1,000 pictures of her!!! I’m kind of obsessed with taking them!) Anyway, I wanted to share because it was just yesterday we were talking about being a host mom and what it’s like. Even with balancing act of  sharing your home with someone and all of that- comes with it moments like this you realize that someone loves your baby almost as much as you do!!

That’s the scoop- and that’s why I thought of you this morning!

Vamped Up Sundays

True Blood is a ritual I care to never deviate from.  This past weekend, after a ridiculously hectic (and wonderful) weekend Mama needed to get her veg vamp on.  Each week, the story and gory True Blood surprises me, excites me, and gets me amped (or vamped) for next week. 

It's hott. 

You know what else is hott? 

Yeah I did.*

Last week it was vamp time and simultaneously a milestone happened. I jumped up as soon as I heard her cry, I'd been gone all weekend and there was no where (for the most part) I'd rather be than to console her.  I wanted to run to her, I missed her much.  L was able for the first time to verbalize that she had a nightmare and what it was about. That's huge. Sometimes she wakes up, is freaking out and can't really talk about what is wrong, what the dream was, if there was one or what happened. 

Proud Mama moment: It has been wonderful to be able to watch and listen through her development ... and listen even more because she just won't shut up.  It's remarkable.  

Embarrassed but honest Mama moment: This time, it posed as a little inconvenient. While my gut had me jump at the sound of her calling out and she was in fact and as usual adorable it wasn't the kind of timing I was looking for. My kid's nightmare and cue to console her was JUST as Eric was taking his shirt off. Thank GOD for DVR.  Priorities here. Would I have jumped up if not for DVR? Of course.**

As L was telling me about this bumblebee that was trying to get her, where it was, where it landed, where she pushed it - there was a lot to learn about said pain in the ass bumblebee - all I could say was,   "Girl, pull it together. Ok? Mama's trying to watch her stories."***

*The picture I really wanted to put up? Better. And by better I mean filthy wonderful.

**I hope. I'm sure, I mean, I'd like to hope that I'd be sure, of course. 

***Disclaimer: that is NOT what I really said... but that's what I wanted to say.  In my heart of heart it's true. Reality was, I listened to the dream sequence... while thinking of my own and gave her coping skills the next time the bee came around. Yeah. I thought my kid to fight back. What of it?

She's Nothing but Honest

A friend wrote me today commenting on how homegirl is adorable... but she sure does have a naughty look.

Does she ever! Last night - while taking a bath is a perfect example.  L is SUPER independent. She has to do everything herself.  In theory I am a proud mama bear she has this in her spirit - don't get me wrong - but sometimes  mostly it slows down the whole process of what you are trying to do. She likes to wash her own hair - basically we let her futz around and then we tell her we get a  turn. Getting shit done and teaching sharing all at the same time, you can send me your #1 Mother award now.  Really, I'd rather not have a turn but it's that or soap scum hair.  She wouldn't start washing her hair and she wasn't listening - at a certain point in the discussion...

Side note: yes we had a discussion. Don't judge. You try forcing her to do anything.  Go ahead, try it.  It will be mayhem for the rest of the night - unless of course you are Nana Lu.  Her solution involves bribery - currency tic tacs.  My strategy is it is best to just let her think she is in control of her own destiny, when in fact you are really manipulating the situating (insert evil laugh).

Back to tub time,  "L, listen, if you don't wash your hair I'm going to have to do it, OK?" She looks up - dead serious and says... "Mama. I not listening. OK?"

Me, in my head, "No shit."
Me, in reality, "Yeah, I know you aren't listening. Why? We have to get going here, it's getting late."

L "Yeah. I don't know. I no listening. OK. I'm a good girl, but don't want to listen right now." 

Totally seriously. Totally matter of fact. I totally bust out laughing, which tic tac pusher, Nana Lu would frown over.

Naughty girl, indeed.