Hiatus

So, as I've hinted, tomorrow we leave for a two week vacation to the beach. There will be sand eating (and the subsequent diarrhea), as well as stomach aches from too much boardwalk food, cuts from seashells, jellyfish stings, and Kohr's frozen custard. God, how I love Kohr's frozen custard.

Do you know that a whole 1 1/4 lb. lobster is only three Weight Watchers Points? I do, and I'm going to use it to my advantage.

See you in September!

Why did I have to mention diarrhea??

So here I am at work, clutching my stomach and moaning, when my illness transitioned from, umm, shall we say, Point A to Point B. At least it's a public restroom position that I can live with.

All is quiet here tonight, which is good, because we ended up having an exciting afternoon.

Vincent decided to take the kids to his sister's for dinner, and was inside packing up pajamas and other essentials while I hung outside with the kids. I had my head in the diaper bag when I heard Adelyn screaming behind me - Riley was swinging and had kicked Adelyn squarely in the mouth as she toddled in front of him.

Blood was everywhere. Adelyn was wailing and burying her bloody face into my new white shirt, so we couldn't get a good luck at her mouth to see where exactly she was bleeding from.

Yes, of course that means I took her to the ER. It's what I do in my free time. I like to pay people $75 to witness the torture that takes place in our home.

No stitches, thank God, just an antibiotic to curb infection and some TLC. And bruising and puffiness, of course. She will look A D O R A B L E in her beach vacation photos. I can hang them next to Bella's 4th of July pics for effect! We can make a Wall of Courage when the addition is complete, and I can dole out Purple Heart medals made out of construction paper.

You know, Bella's first trip to the ER was Riley's fault too, when she just under a year old. He threw fireplace soot (NOT hot, thank goodness) in both of her eyes and she suffered two scratched corneas. Vincent came home just as I was ripping Bella's clothes off to throw her in the bathtub. He took one look at her, then at me, and said calmly, "But honey? Why would I tell you to flour the children??" I almost hit him, but then he saved the day by having the forethought to toss Bella in the tub fully dressed. I can still remember trying to unbutton these tiny little buttons on her navy dress. And here I thought I was good in a crisis.

Someday Riley's sisters are going to get their revenge, and it will be ugly. I just hope that he's paying his own copays by then.

The (un)official end to summer

So yesterday was the last day at the pool for us this year. Every day this summer, we have spent the morning home, or at camp, or Summer Playground, while Adelyn napped. Then we would eat lunch, in the car or at home, or at Burger King, or McDonald's, and then head off to the pool with sunscreen and swim diapers and pool toys in hand. There we would swelter for approximately two and a half hours until it was time for Adelyn's second nap.

The kids would play, and eventually get beaten by the pool, lying on the edge in exhaustion and joy. Adelyn would toddle back and forth from the pool to our spot in the shade, pouring Cinnamon Life out of the box and eating it off of the grass, or climbing into her stroller with fistfuls of cereal.

This summer will officially be known as the Summer the Children Discovered Ring Pops at the Snack Bar, and they spent a good amount of our pool time either begging for money or wandering up to the snack bar alone, ordering sugary treats to be enjoyed for hours after we returned home. Last summer, Riley had already begun the independent trek to the snack bar, buying me bottles of water for $1 a pop, but he hadn't known about the candy until this year. And as all with things, Bella began consuming Ring Pops at the same time that her brother did. It was trial and error of course, as we experimented with Baby Bottle Pops (Too sour! Too expensive!) and gummy pizzas, burgers and hot dogs (Yeah well, they continued on with those, so maybe there was no error in that one).

As much as I like to complain, I have to say that the Ring Pops are a vast improvement from last year's obsession with the 25 cent snack bar twin pop, the one that dripped all down the front of the their bathing suits, and faces and hands, and then stained everything bright red, or orange, or blue, for at least the next week. Of course, Adelyn, still too young for Ring Pops, has enjoyed a few popsicles this summer, leading me up the hill to the snack bar by her hand and pointing to the window of pleasure. Twin Pops Mommy! If only she could talk.

Unfortunately, this last pool morning, I awoke feeling nauseous. I drank some beer the night before (Not even three! Over a four hour period!) along with jalepeno poppers and lots and lots of crab fries and cheese sauce. Being that I ate before and during my alcohol consumption, I was shocked that I felt so sick. I ended up throwing up all morning, putting Adelyn down for a 10:00 am nap, plunking down two (nutritious!) frosted strawberry pop tarts for the other two and then proceeded to curl up in a ball in bed for two hours by myself. The children built a fort with the couch cushions, watched TV, and left me alone, bless their little souls.

Go ahead, call Child Protective Services. I tried to get Vincent to come home, but he couldn't. And my neighbors couldn't take the kids because they're all at the beach. I was really really desperate.

It turns out that I actually have touch of a stomach bug, because Vincent has it too and it's now Saturday and I'm still sick. Thankfully the vomiting has stopped because I'm going to work tonight. At least I can stop feeling guilty about being a hung over Stay At Home Mom yada yada yada be more responsible yada yada good role model for the kids blah blah blah. Stomach bug. Bad timing. And the kids have diarrhea too (try changing six of those diapers and not puking) so it's not just Vincent and I.

Sooo....The last day at the pool and there I was, hunched over, numbly eating a soft pretzel, unable to indulge in those phenomenal fresh cut French fries that I was planning on eating to celebrate the end of our pool ritual. The kids asked for Burger King. Drive through? Sure! Mommy's insides are trying to fling themselves out by force! Whatever you want kids!

Nobody was at the pool because the whole town is at the beach. The kids didn't even go in the water, but hung out in the playground playing tether ball. I have given birth to Napoleon Dynamite.

Vincent was out at a Fantasy Football Draft Party (which he couldn't really enjoy, wolfing down Tums and trying not to vomit), so we zoomed off to Chuck E. Cheese for dinner so I wouldn't have to actually cook.

It was a stellar nutritional day. With prizes - Transformers and Care Bears from BK, a mini rocket launcher and nail stickers from Chuck E. Cheese. Stellar. A high point of my maternal career, I must say.

So that's it. There's no redemption, because we leave Monday for two weeks at the beach, and when we return the pool will be closed. Well, OK, they are open one last weekend, but by then we have soccer games (I still can't believe that I signed them up for that) and a birthday party so I can't imagine that we'll go.

I will try very hard not to vomit in the guest bathroom of the psych hospital (I work there, remember??). I do not want my face that close to that toilet. Please wish me luck, because My Lord I feel awful.

Bleeccchhhh.

WWFSMD?

Oh my God, I mean, FSM.

Read the responses from school board members as well as the fave emails. And you must check out the store. I'm a practicing Catholic, but I must admit to being a little frightened to find Riley's pirate sword sitting next to the computer. Do you think perhaps the FSM put it there?

Touched by His Noodly Appendage??

Hmmmm.....

I am breathing that damn song every moment of every day

I cannot get the last episode of Six Feet Under out of my head. Sia's beautiful voice haunts me, and in my mind she's been singing the soundtrack of the past three days of my life. I lie in bed at night, desperate to sleep, and instead I see the flash forward montage playing in my head. When I wake in the morning it's still there.

I scoured the internet for that song so that I could listen to it, over and over and over again, while I wait for the CD to arrive.

I realize that I haven't written much about Adelyn lately. She's becoming such a big girl. I'm so glad that I remember the morning when she fell asleep nursing, curled up beside me in bed, as I sat frozen with wonder, knowing that this would probably be the last time that I would feel her breathing deeply beside me. What a gift that I knew at that moment to cherish that snapshot of my baby girl. She still nurses in the morning, more and more fleeting with each passing day, frustrated that I don't dole out gulpfuls like her handled Dora sippy cup. She can say "Dora" now, and I know that by the time we return rom our beach vacation, I will likely just carry her downstairs to drink from her cup, my milk dried up, our cuddling time over.

She is far too busy running now, exploring the world around her on her own two feet. I am amazed at what she can do - she feeds Bella's baby dolls their bottles, and the girls love to hold afternoon tea rituals with Bella's princess tea set. Bella just didn't have toys like that when she was one year old, so her play was so much more baby-like, though I suppose there was more playing with Riley's trucks and cars than your typical first-born girl might do.

I recall being somewhat disappointed in finding out that Adelyn was a girl. I nver had a sister, so I mourned more for Riley's loss in not having a brother than I would have for Bella. Watching them play together now is a reminder that things do happen for a reason. They are already friends. When Bella isn't here, Adelyn toddles around the house calling her name, wandering from her room, to Riley's to the back door, which she tries to open by turning the doorknob. I am in awe of this mystery of sisterhood finally unfolding in front of my eyes.

I've thought alot about Six Feet Under, and the idea of people's deaths being a part of life, flashing before your eyes just as I can see Adelyn curled up sleeping against me that last morning. We recently went to a huge family reunion on Vincent's side of the family, and it struck me that every single one of those people in attendance will have a funeral. Will I be there? For some, but not all.

Will my children mourn beside my coffin, or will I by theirs? The former I hope. Dear God, I hope so.

It's hard enough to believe that someday my life will be filled wih homework and soccer games and ballet classes. But to imagine my children's deaths? The rest of my family's moving on from this world? I think it's the reason that the Six Feet Under finale has haunted me so these past few days.

I adore the children and want so much to be a beter, kinder mother to them. I was able to play Monopoly Jr. with Riley and some older kids in the neighborhood the other night. He won - beginner's luck I guess - and I thought to myself, "My boy is becoming a boy now", the kind that can beam at the prospect of owning a monopoly, even in lemonade stands. He learned to peel potatoes the other day. He can open his own bananas. Make his own bed. Ride a scooter, and when he concentrates, he can ride a bike without training wheels.

But still, I am so cranky these days. The addition is going nowhere, Bella is still in diapers, the house is a disaster and I'm having post-PMS PMS.

But that song - that song brings it home to me that the time to live is now. So I don't mind it playing it's soundtrack in my mind - it's not Feliz Navidad, or Elmo's World, but rather, a reminder that death is a part of life, and it will find us all eventually. I'd like to be ready for it when it comes.

And now...for your viewing pleasure...more Bella!

"Next time, can I be the Mommy, and my nipples will get big, and I can chew gum?"

Vincent's Quote of the Day

Tonight after dinner, Adelyn marched around the dining room with a full-sized broom swinging precariously around our antique china cabinet.

Vincent turned to me and asked, "Why do we have all Bam-Bams and no Pebbles??"

Reason #357 that I will never win a "Mother of the Year" award.

Bella pooped on the potty last night before her bath, and we told her that she could wear pretty panties this morning. Before she came downstairs, she had already dressed herself in Sleeping Beauty panties and a ballerina outfit.

Two hours later (after one successful run to the potty), she peed in her pants. The ballerina skirt was replaced by pink shorts.

A half an hour after that, she pooped in her swim diaper as I was getting everyone sunscreened and ready for the pool.

Just now, she pooped in her Dora panties.

She's back in a diaper. Screw the shorts, she gets to parade around like an infant.

I'm so angry I could throttle her. So you're really not allowed to punish them for potty accidents? I'd like to fucking kill her and I'm hoping that smeone could give me permission. At least I wouldn't have to pay for Pull Ups anymore.

Either way I am not coming off as a bra burning feminist here.

Bella turned to me today as we cuddled on the couch, comically serious.

"Cows make...milk."

"Yes honey, cows make milk."

Bella stopped and stared at me intently.

"And you make..."

Oh, I know where this is going. It's always about the boobs, right? Go ahead, nurse in front of the other children. Be a breastfeeding advocate! Have your children compare you to livestock!

"...dinner??"

Well, I didn't see that one coming. Come on now! You didn't either!

I haven't decided which is worse.

Proof that God exists...

"Our records indicate that you DO NOT NEED TO REPORT to the *********** County Courthouse at this time.

Your name will be returned to the pool for subsequent service.

Thank you for your participation and time in your service as a prospective juror."

Jury Duty

Did I mention that I always thought it would be cool to be on a jury?

I'm alleged to have jury duty tomorrow. I say that because I don't actually know until after 4pm today, when I log on to the county webpage and am informed of my fate. If they can do that, can't they just let me serve on a jury online???

My county is quite progressive! People who stay home with three children can use a county daycare for court related activities! Do you feel the love?

I have to report at 8:15, and it will take me almost an hour to get there. As Adelyn wakes at 7:30ish, and Bella and Riley at 8:30ish, I'll have to put them to bed this evening in their clothes for tomorow and feed them pop tarts in the car while they scream and cry about how tired the are. A nutritious breakfast!

But it's OK, I can't be too early. They open at 8:00, so that gives me 15 minutes to unpack their bags, settle them in, say goodbye, wrench my screaming children off of my legs, walk over to the courthouse, get through a security search and metal detector and then find the jury room and register. No problem!!

And, I get free parking! Woo-hoo! It's just two blocks from the daycare, up a steep hill. I'll have to pull the stroller out for Adelyn and have the kids help me carry the bags loaded with diapers, blankets, wipes, all three of their lunch and the gallon of milk my kids drink in a day. No problem!! Civic duty calls!

First, I planned to visit my old office over lunch! Without kids! But then I found out that I'm not allowed to leave the parking lot once I pull my car in first thing in the morning.

So I get a whopping $9 a day compensation for my civic duty, and I was thinking, hey! That almost buys me a sashimi lunch at the Japanese spot across from the court house! No driving! This isn't so bad!

So I called the drop-in daycare to register the children, as requested, and they tell me that I need to remove my children from their care on my lunch break. To feed them lunch.

So we can have a picnic! On the courthouse steps!

And then I asked if they could give Bella Tylenol for her fever, the one that she's had for a few days. "Oh, we can't take her if she's sick. You'll need to call someone to come and pick her up if she's sick."

If I had someone to watch them while I was on a fucking jury, would I be driving them to your daycare??

Do you think if I showed up in a white sheet or a "Fuck the Police" t-shirt that I would still get picked?

Drunkard's Lament - Reprise

Trying to sleep late
But the kids won't stop screaming
I need more than Tums

Drunkard's Lament - a haiku

Oh why did I have -
That third beer at Girl's Night Out?
Chewing Tums 'till dawn

I think his career will be all downhill from here...

This guy calls for a female escort and ends up having a VERY VERY bad day. Oh, don't get me wrong, he totally did it to himself. But I can't believe that they actually called the Department of Homeland Security and Temple University for comment. And he has kids!! OUCH. This is why you should never pay for sex.

Isn't there a scene like this in Boogie Nights?

us 

I think that the boy might be gay...not that there's anything wrong with that

So I went to a wake tonight, which meant that I had to dig out my blank pantsuit that I haven't worn since I quit my job. I had a few blouses to consider, so I tried them on one by one.

"I like the blue one," Riley announces. "I love your beautiful outfit!"

Every morning, Riley comes downstairs in his outfit di jour and actually struts for me, pointing out that his socks match his shirt, or that he's wearing Batman today, courtesy of his friends at Target.

Also, consider Exhibit A.

He might be gay, he might not. But either way, he's going to get laid alot.

You can't tell from this photo, but Adelyn was TERRIFIED of Baby Bear.

And new to Sesame Place this summer...Baby Bear! Thankfully, the characters don't actually talk, so I didn't have to listen to that awful lisp.

La la la la, la la la la, Stoli's World...

The obligatory Elmo family photo. Someday I will tell you how I almost decapitated some Sesame Place employees (yes, several of them) over trying to buy one of these pictures from them.

Make sure to click on the hyperlink for this one

Poor maligned Grover didn't even have a line of kids waiting to meet him.

Everybody loves a parade...

At Sesame Place

OUCH!

One of many adventures that we had on my blogging hiatus. Here the children are, being eaten by T Rex. Do you see why I didn't have time to blog? I had the rescue the children!!

Shhhh....

All of the kids are sleeping right now, and I don't know what the fuck to do with myself. They're sick, probably from spending the weekend with my mother, which certainly makes me feel like puking sometimes. Vincent has been trying to paint the trim on the house from a dusty pastel blue to a lovely white, and as much as I need a break on weekends, I've obliged getting the kids out of the way because the one estimate that we got - from poor college students no less - was for $11,000. That is not a typo. So off to your grandmother's!!

My mother and grandmother like to have the same conversation with me over and over when I visit them without Vincent. In a nutshell, the conversation trashes my sister-in-law (my brother's wife), alluding that she's jealous of my mother being closer to my kids than to hers. Of course, she's not supposed to actually notice this, but it's impossible to ignore. At the same time, they point out that when my other sister-in-law (Vincent's sister) has children, I will also notice how much my MIL favors them. They imply that this is because a mother and daughter are always closer, and that it carries over into their relationship with the grandchildren.

I resent the hell out of this proposition, because I don't appreciate my kids being put on such a high pedestal compared to my nephews. It's awkward. Plus, I'm sure that it's at least partially a manipulation meant to drive a wedge between Vincent's sister and myself, as well as between my MIL and I.

Now, I can buy the argument that a mother might relate to her daughter's role as "mother" more than her son's role as "father," unless the elder mother is in fact a transsexual. But that would add it's own set of issues, wouldn't it?

Perhaps it's because my mom and I don't get along that well - we are very different people. Worse, I feel like she doesn't appreciate our differences because she can't see beyond herself - she (and my grandmother) is the kind of woman who buys herself something that she loves, and buys the same thing for me, and my grandmother, and puts one away for my girls. This is especially a problem, because my tastes run along the lines of Tiffany's and Restoration Hardware and she's more of a "I found these t-shirts at Drug Fair for $2 each so I bought you one in every color - I know you're down to a size 8 now but they only had XXL. They shrink!!" I buy one piece of chocolate at Godiva and she eats a whole bag of Hershey's kisses.

Vincent's sister is TTC and now I cannot shake the undercurrent of bitterness that has been instilled by my mom. I hate myself for it.

Any experience with this? Do you believe it to be true that a mother always favors her daughter's children? Does anyone feel the same way I do? How do you handle with your sister in laws? Or is my mom just a bitch?

Happy 4th of August, I mean July...

Here are the kids on the 4th of July. Note Bella's large chin bandaid, and the diaper that she will wear on her wedding day because she will not potty train, damn her.

That dreaded papoose

Here is Vincent calming Bella as she gets her stitches. Yes, I DID bring my camera to the ER this time.

Out of the habit

Yeah, well, OK, it's been awhile. We went to Virginia in July, and being that it was a holiday, with family, out of state, Bella ended up with 6 stitches in her chin. She tripped over Vincent's feet at the pool and didn't put her hands out because, well, she's just that kind of kid. I've found that the velcro papoose thing has sort of lost it's luster for all of us, and she was a champ, as were we. Yawn.

On a brighter note, I had a blind date of sorts. At Busch Gardens, I ditched the family to fly solo on Alpengeist, and ended up on line with the lovely Brian (Cute? Check.), who had ditched his family because they are also a bunch of woosies. Loves rollercoasters enough to ride solo? Check. Forty-five minutes in line with a guy I didn't know felt like an arranged marriage - he was from Tennessee, met the love of his life, married her after two months and moved to Maryland to start a new life. Romantic? Check. He had been a DJ in Tennessee and was headed off to see Nine-Inch Nails the following weekend. Likes music? Check.

I think if I were single I would have slept with him. It's been awhile since I found someone that I would consider dating, and it felt sort of like a betrayal even though I had done nothing wrong. I made a point to brag to Riley that Mommy had made a new friend, and that you're never to old to do so, and wasn't that nice honey? But at the same time, yuck.

Then, the week I got home, my friend's husband (that Vincent has never met) was here borrowing a movie when Vincent came home. The husband had joked to his wife that I was "cute" and "intriguing" and I had shared that with Vincent. Hey, I am intriguing! And cute!! But I found myself flustered and stuttering like I was caught with my pants down instead of with a pirated version of Madagascar in my hands. What the fuck? Is this Catholic guilt? Maybe we should start going to church again...

In other news, uh, nothing. I drive the kids to camp (I had signed them up to get them out of the house for the addition. Remember that? Yeah.), then home, then to the pool, then home, then I make dinner. Then I pretend to be very busy so that Vincent will clear the dishes, but that doesn't usually work and I wake up to them the next morning.

Once, we went to Sesame Place.

Once, I took a shower in the afternoon instead of in the morning.

Oh, and I had my annual gynocological exam, and my doctor resumed sticking her finger in my ass after a five year hiatus. Riley asked me what the doctor had done when I got home, and I almost told him that Mommy's anus got lucky but the sitter was still here, so I restrained myself, thankfully.

I wonder what Brian's doing now. Listening to music? Riding coasters in Coney Island? Buying Coldplay tickets? Watching Murderball?

Surely he's not helping his daughter master the art of walking, or giving another a pedicure, or teaching his son to jump rope.

My life. Our life.

The same, the same, the same, and then the kids are grown and I can ride the big rollercoasters again. And I think I have nothing to write about now?