Stolidoli

Scattered

2007-09-13T15:03:00.001-04:00

I have this jumble in my head of things that I want to remember, because I am so scatterbrained lately that I feel like I'll forget everything about this time of my life. Parents of teenagers keep telling me that these years of raising small children were the best of their lives. Being that I had mine so close together, this time is extra short for me, and so full of utter chaos that I am unable to stop and savor anything.

Adelyn starts school on Monday, FINALLY, and she's quite the charmer. On the first day of school for Bella & Riley, we went to Applebee's for dinner, which the kids think is the peak of culinary expertise. That's OK, they have a Weight Watchers menu, so it suits me quite well also. So here I am at Applebee's, yelling at Adelyn to behave or she won't get her ice cream (which is free on Tuesdays, though they did sneak in a one dollar price increase without me realizing it at first). Adelyn starts whining "I am have," over and over again and I didn't understand what she was saying. She was pronouncing it haave, which rhymes with Maeve, and if it weren't for Vincent, I wouldn't have understood what she was saying. Today she threw another three-ism at me - I told her that he time was up, and she insisted that no, her time was down. I know it sounds trite to chuckle at the musings of a confused three year old, but these are the moments that I would like to savor, these glimpses into Adelyn's three year old mind trying to make sense of the world around her. Sometimes I treat her like a child far older than three out of necessity - I make her brush her own teeth, I get angry if she can't, or won't, put on her own shoes, because I have so many other kids to care for. But she's still a baby in so many ways and I'm missing the last shadowy glimpses of that babyhood.

Speaking of babies, Catherine is no longer considered a baby in the true sense of the word, either. She is now walking almost exclusively, toddling around the house trying to unroll the toilet paper and pull all of the DVDs out of the armoire. She giggles and dances and nods fervently when I ask her if she's hungry or wants to go night-nights. She is an absolute doll. Even so, every time I go to the grocery store I can't believe that there will be no more jars of baby food. I suppose this is a good thing, being that Vincent and I saved just about every empty container at the end, in a pack rat sort of frenzy to ensure that, yes, if anyone ever needed a tiny jar or plastic lidded thing for an extra set of nails, we've got one. What we don't have is video tape of Catherine's first steps - the video camera stopped working right before our weeks at the beach, when she was only making one or two solitary attempts at stepping away from a supported stance. Today, of course, our new camera (used on eBay) arrived and I haven't yet taken it out of the box. I'll try to get to it before she actually starts running.

Catherine is so cute that Bella cannot keep her hands off of her. Ever. She is constantly trying to feed her, or pick her up, which is especially treacherous being that Catherine only ways about 10 lbs. less than Bella does. Bella is so tiny that I bought her an XS skirt (On sale at Target! Score!) and it literally fell down around her ankles without even touching her waist. I was out one night at bedtime and again the next morning (working maybe?) but on the following night, Bella marches into my bedroom, trailed by Vincent, wearing Catherine's sized 12-18 month pajamas. The were two-pieced, long sleeved, though on Bella they appeared to be 3/4 sleeves and Capri's. Still, as I looked incredulously at Vincent and advised him that those were Catherine's pajamas, he shrugged sheepishly and announced that she had worn them to bed the previous night.

Riley, on the other hand, is a first grader, in school all day. He has homework every night and eats in the cafeteria (though not the cafeteria food, as they don't serve cheese sandwiches every day). He can also sound out words independently, though he does tend to rush a guess first. I think this is so he doesn't look weak or stupid, which is amazing to me that a 6 year old would already be beaten down enough to think that way. He has refused to bring his dinosaur water bottle, the one that matches his lunch bag and backpack, into school anymore because, "I don't think any first graders drink from stuff like that Mom." OK Riley.

So, here we are. School is closed for the Jewish holiday, which I explained to the kids that we don't celebrate but don't worry the Jews aren't getting any presents today either. That and a lunchtime trip to the park near Vincent's work (and McDonald's) made for a pleasant day.

We are redecorating the living room - painting and everything because by God I really hate the color scheme that Vincent talked me into even though he swears that it was totally my idea. I got a comfy accent chair and ordered a sofa and loveseat that are being delivered on Saturday. The walls aren't painted yet but having the furniture here will help me to narrow down the six or so swatches I have on the windowsill. If it's totally done by Christmas I will be absolutely thrilled. Of course, I'll post pictures when that happens.

Weight Watchers tonight - and random leftovers for dinner. I don't really know what to do with myself at 3:30 when I am not preparing dinner. Which is exactly how I ended up blogging, I guess.

First day of school!

2007-09-04T09:32:00.001-04:00

First day of school!
Originally uploaded by Stolidoli

It's offical! Today is the first day of school - Riley is a full-day first grader, and he's having lunch in the cafeteria today. Bella heads in at 12:10 for 1/2 day kindergarten, and, not to be outdone, Adelyn donned her backpack despite not starting school for another two weeks.

My schedule is going to be a nightmare this year - no buses for such a small town - so Riley gets dropped off at 8:15, Adelyn driopped off by 9am, then Bella dropped off at noon and Adelyn picked up, and then the oldest two picked up at 3pm. Of course, this week Bella is supposed to "Acclamate" to kindergarten, so she only has class from 12:10 until 2:10, then back at 3 to pick up Riley. When's Catherine supposed to nap? God only knows.

But this time next year, Catherine will also be a preschooler and I'll get to start drinking in the mornings with three hours to myself. I think I'm kidding, but I'm not sure yet. ;)

Bernie Bott's

2007-09-01T16:29:00.000-04:00

I have been reading Riley the Harry Potter books ever since he saw my euphoria at receiving book #7. We are on book #2 now and it's fun but boy does it take a long time to read out loud.

Anyway, last night I came home with Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Riley, thrilled to try one, tells me, "Well, I eat my own boogers so I wouldn't mind getting a booger flavored one."

That's my boy.

Hi

2007-09-01T13:08:00.000-04:00

Somebody please help me understand how so many can manage their children, their homes, and their blogs too?

friends often ask how I am able to make "fancy" dinners every night - the answer is that while some of you take the time to scrub your toilets, we are busy peeing in squalor and feasting on Osso Bucco. But blogging? I am a miserable failure there.

I do plan on posting something more meaningful soon. Catherine is one year old already and I've been busy, but I need to start journaling again. In the meantime, I'll try to post a picture of the kids from our trip to the beach.

Phew!

2006-11-06T08:38:00.000-05:00

I can't believe how long it's been since I posted. We have had ongoing construction, a leaking shower that just keeps on leaking, croup, pink eye (several times), colds and coughs(many many many of these), plus my grandfather went into renal failure and spent a week in ICU and is still in the hospital awaiting a SNF or rehab placement. Not to mention a smiley three month old who hates to be ignored and LOVES to be held. All. The. Time.

Or those competing school drop off and pickup schedules...We drop Riley off at 8:15, then Peep and the Big Wide World is on, then Bella gets dropped of at 9 (with Adelyn on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays). Riley is picked up at 11:10 and the girls at noon, but on Thursdays Adelyn and I go to the Little Gym first, from 9:15 to 10. I have to nurse the baby somewhere in there at least once. Then lunch, and maybe some activity (the park, a walk, a store, etc) before Adelyn naps from 1:30ish on. If I'm lucky I get to take a shower every day around 2:30ish if both Adelyn and Cate are sleeping. Then I start dinner. We eat when Vincent gets home and then have some free time until the bedtime routine starts. I'm usually trying to get Cate down by 7:30 or so, and she wants to nurse forever, so I usually go to bed with her and stay there while Vincent (sometimes, not last night) cleans up the kitchen. Otherwise, I do it in the morning.

You'll notice that there is no room on my schedule for updating my blog. Or cleaning and organizing my house. So, neither gets done. And when I DO try to update my blog, I am stepping over toys to do so.

Riley is the "Star of the Week" this week in kindergarten, so I had to prepare photos and do a questionnaire with him last night. Too cute. More on this later, I hope.

Peep is almost over and my tea is over-brewed. Hopefully I'll get a chance to update more later on the general craziness here.

Poop

2006-09-06T10:17:00.000-04:00

This is an actual email that I just sent my husband:

Adelyn took off her diaper while I was trying to help Bella clean the basement. Poop EVERYWHERE - face, hands, floor, train tracks. Had to put her in tub. Tub needs scrubbing before being used. Not sure if I will get to it - can't do while holding crying infant. Is it 5:00 yet?

*********
See, you don't actually need to ask how it's going. You don't want to know.

Hobbling along

2006-08-23T10:25:00.000-04:00

I've been having an inordinate amount of pain this time, and almost went to the ER the other night. Ran out of Percocet, God help me. I haven't had much time to write anything, between lactating furiously and hobbling around in agony, but thought I should get something out just for the sake of doing so.

Construction has been on hold and time generally standing still here, which I suppose is helpful for the moment. I did get my kitchen fully functioning last week, and have been cooking dinner for the first time since June. It's odd to have to stop what you're doing in the middle of a recipe and wonder where you put your mixing bowls, but I'm getting used to it.

We cannot find doorknobs to match the old ones in our 1920's Dutch Colonial. We did pay a small fortune for five-panel wood doors to match the old ones, and I wanted those crystal doorknobs as well. At the moment, however, all of the new doors in the house have no doorknobs at all. You try going into your powder room after major abdominal surgery and having to bend over to pry the door back open with your finger in the little gap between the door and the floor. OUCH. Please, if anyone knows of a place to find doorknobs ASAP, clue me in.

Well, I have to go "milk the baby" now, as Riley calls it. Adelyn was far more concerned, as she turned to me in horror one day as I was nursing Catie and decreed, "Baby's biting you!!" It seems that she has forgotten completely about nursing herself, which only ended less than a year ago.

Ooooh, engorgement. Back later!

Junkie

2006-08-14T20:49:00.000-04:00

Why did they give me 100 Motrin tablets but only 30 Percocet? I totally need more Percocet and I'm almost out.

Thank you for all of the well wishes. I csan't seem to email back a response individually so I'll have to settle for thanking you here.

Recovery has been harder this time - I don't know if it's the placental abruption, the extra incision, or just that I am on my 4th C-Section. But I'm still in pain and I just want to be well again and move on.

Catherine is showing signs of holding her own against three siblings - she is not afraid to cry to let me know when she's hungry. She is also incredibly alert and remains adorable, of course.

I wish I could type more but I'm spent, and it's two flights of stairs up to my bed. Oh, and my countertop was installed today so it's almost time to post the "After" pics from the (Alleged) Home Addition. And I guess the "Before" pics too, come to think of it. I know that my daughter is beautiful but I have to say that she is getting some stiff competition from our home remodeling in the looks department. I actually have to caress my granite countertops every time I walk past them.

The view from 12:10 pm

2006-08-11T11:57:00.000-04:00

Feet
Originally uploaded by Stolidoli.

She's here.

Catherine Anne (Cate) arrived at 12:10 pm, weighing in at 7lbs., 1 oz. and 21 inches long after a somewhat greuling C-Section delivery.

For the first time ever, my blood pressure dropped significantly after recieving the spinal, and I started vomiting (OK, dry heaving, there was nothing in my stomach) and blacking out until tyhey gave me some medication to bring my blood pressure back up. This happened twice before Vincent even came into the OR. After that, everything seemed fine to me, except for an inordinate amount of pulling and tugging and the extreme sensation of not being able to breathe. Of course, I couldn't see a thing behind the giant curtain, so I didn't know any better. Actually, in my morphine-induced stupor, I ried to get them to remove the curtain, insisting that I had a "Strong stomach" and that I wanted to see what was going on. Needless to say, they didn't, but they did seem to be amused.

What I couldn't see was that Catherine was very, very stuck, being that I had a good amount of scar tissue, and that she was still pretty high up. In their efforts to remove her from my uterus, my placenta began to abrupt.

This was, I'm told, about the time that they attempted to pull her out with the dreaded vacuum extractor (I know!). Who knew that they used these for C-Sections? Apparantly, that didn't work, and so they resorted to cutting a second, "classical" incision (read: top to bottom) into my uterus to finally remove her before any harm came to either of us. Needless to say, I'm having a harder time recovering than with previous births.

Is it cliche to say it was all worth it? Click on the photo to see more pictures, and see for yourself.

Welcome to the world, sweetheart.

The view from 7:59 am

2006-08-04T07:59:00.000-04:00

Friday, August 4th: The view from 7:59 am
Originally uploaded by Stolidoli.

Friday, August 4th

2006-08-04T06:19:00.000-04:00

I can't sleep. Usually when I pull myself out of bed at 5:00 am, it means that I'll be eating an early breakfast, followed by some delicious mid-morning treat to tide me over until lunch. But not today - I sit here starving and anxious because in just under four hours I should be wheeling into surgery to meet baby #4.

I know that I wanted to blog something this morning, but honestly, I have no idea what to write. I found myself crying intermittently yesterday, and especially last night, and I'm also not quite sure why. There are too many reasons, I guess.

First, I hate C-Sections. It is really painful to have that damn numbing medicine to even get the spinal in the first place. I mean, really, really painful. Like, I almost had a panic attack yesterday in the pre-admission center yesterday when the NP was reviewing the procedure with me and commented that oh by the way, that shot hurts and I like to prepare my patients. Actually, probably my second or third thought after finding out that I was pregnant was an anxious "damn, that spinal hurts." I kid you not.

So there's that, and also that I am already starving and I believe that I won't be allowed to eat again until Sunday. Maybe they'll let me have a drink of water tonight. Some thing to look forward to!

Also, I have a sore throat. When Adelyn was born, I had a cough, and, talk about pain! Try coughing every thirty seconds after major abdominal surgery.

But then there's the bigger stuff, of course. That I really am not doing a great job parenting the kids that I already have. That I got chastised yesterday but a twenty-something lifeguard at the swim club because Riley and Bella were swimming in the deep end of the big pool and Bella was floundering, clutching on to her big brother even though he couldn't stand either. I, of course, was in the baby pool with Adelyn and did not see what was happening. I think he said something to the effect that he couldn't be responsible to watch them and that they needed to be supervised, and only later did I think of such obviously snarky responses like - wait- aren't you paid to be the lifeguard? - but mostly I was just too frustrated and upset that my last day, my last minutes even, at the swim club as the mother of three were spent feeling insecure and incompetent. Neglectful, even.

Plus, the kids are totally on edge. Their basement playroom is covered in plastic from the construction and their swingset unreachable behind the enormous dumpster in our yard. They have been going to "camp" every day at the new preschool, Adelyn too, and then the older two are relegated to sitting on my bed (in the living room!) to watch TV while Adelyn naps, before they head out to the swim club for some good old unsupervised drowning.

Adelyn, my baby girl, cries every morning when I drop her off at camp. She starts just before I gesture to leave, as if the anticipation of our pending separation is too much to bear. Allegedly she plays with wild abandon after about five minutes of tears, and she is admittedly reluctant to stop playing and go home with me when camp is over, but still. I would not have her in camp this young in the first place, but for the construction going on here. I just have nowhere safe for her to be all morning, and lugging her with me to Lowe's to pick up ceiling fans wasn't a terribly viable option either.

So instead, I've missed my opportunity to smother her with affection during our last days before her little sister arrives, after which she will be violently ousted from her throne as the youngest of our clan. The construction has been so all-consuming, in fact, that I have also not taken the opportunity to cherish these last days of pregnancy that I will ever know. And, just to add to my frustration, they have also been the hottest in Philadelphia's history.

So we're hot, we're cranky, we have no kitchen, and we're having another baby. Today. I have no idea if we're doing the right thing, but it's certainly too late to turn back now. I just pray that the baby is healthy, and happy, and that I can be a good mother to her. To all of my children. And while my heart breaks for Adelyn, I hope that she likes being a big sister.

I always wonder what Bella would be like if we'd never had Adelyn. She loves being babied, and she is quite jealous of Adelyn in many ways. But the other day, I asked her how she felt about being a big sister again.

"Good," she said, straining to look around me and see the TV.

"You know that this is going to be the last baby we have in our family," I added. This got her attention.

"That's not good," she said, looking like she wanted to cry. I wanted to cry too, but instead we just hugged, and she turned her attention back to the TV, laughing at the antics on the Cartoon Network.

So, maybe Bella really is OK, and maybe Adelyn will be OK too. Maybe we all will. And maybe, if I'm really lucky, I'll be able to emulate my daughter, and accept what is without pausing to regret what might have been. And if I'm really lucky, I'll find laughter there too.

A momentous day in the Riley-hood

2006-08-01T08:06:00.000-04:00

What is Riley holding?
Originally uploaded by Stolidoli.

This past Sunday, incidentally our last as a family of five, Riley was in dire need of a haircut and anted to spend time with Daddy. So, bearing celery sticks (he can't go anywhere without snacks, I married a snack guy) Vincent packed him up and off the two of them went.

He returned with slightly lopsided bangs and something in his hand. It seems that while chewing on his celery stick, Riley's very first tooth popped right out. And celery being as strange as it is, it stayed stuck inside.

About an hour later, while we were all at the pool eating dinner (did I mention that I have no kitchen?), Riley's other bottom tooth came out.

The tooth fairy and her tooth castle were two teeth richer come Monday morning, and Riley a whopping two dollars richer as well.

My little boy is now a buzz-cut, toothless grinned, diving board jumping big-pool swimming kindergarten-bound almost six year old.

But he still jumps into bed with me every morning with a big hug and an "I love you Mommy." And I reach my arms around him, since I can no longer pick him up, and tell my baby boy how much I love him too. For the sweet baby boy that he once was, and for all of the wonder that he has become.

Family of Five and Three Quarters

2006-07-28T17:14:00.000-04:00

Family of Five and Three Quarters
Originally uploaded by Stolidoli.

Here is a shot of all of us from our recent trip to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. If you click on the photo, you will be led to my Flickr photo stream and also the OBX set with more photos of everyone from our trip. Feel free to blast me for my Flickr incompetence if I'm wrong about that last part.

Anyway, if this works well, I'll use Flickr to post pictures of the Alleged Home Addition as well...which is, of course, no longer Alleged, but rather, the Almost Completed Home Addition.

Lucky

2006-07-25T10:11:00.000-04:00

Blogger just ate my big long post, which was about being exasparated in the first place. Everything has been going on all at once lately, and things have just been insane.

So instead of retyping everything right now that I just lost, here's a snapshot of what life has been like lately. It should help illuminate things a bit.

Yesterday, Vincent and I were going to have a nice, quiet lunch together because things have been exceedingly stressful and the kids are in camp from 9am - 1 pm three days a week (We're writing it off as a construction cost...I challenge you to find a cheaper alternative to get my kids out of the construction fray every damn morning before the pool opens!).

Anyway, I was late, and seemingly driving behind the world's slowest people. I called Vincent to vent, adding that the person driving the red dump truck in front of me was probably drunk.

"Look at him! He's swerving all over the damn road!" I had barely uttered these words when the guy proceeded to drive full speed into a tree.

So there I was, due to give birth in eleven days, staring at a bloody two-hundred pound man in a now flaming car, wondering if I could conceivably pull him to safety.

Thank God a landscaper appeared from nowehere and pulled him out while I was still stammering to 911 about how I wasn't exactly sure which was the nearest cross-street. Although, in retrospect, a pregnant woman pulling a man from a flaming car might have made an interesting news story...like I need my 15 minutes of fame to be on a day where I wasn't able to shower or even put on underwear before the contractors arived at my house. Or in maternity clothes at all, for that matter. Where was the flaming car when I was wearing my skinny jeans???

Needless to say, I didn't get that quiet lunch with my husband. Instead, I spent my alone-time watching the flames engulf first the car, and then the tree it had struck, before giving a statement that will likely get me a witness subpeona while I'm still recovering from my C-Section.

But, like the addition and the baby and everything else, I'm quite lucky, albiet stressed. Lucky I wasn't that guy. Lucky I wasn't driving on the other side of the road, or picnicing under that tree with my kids.

Lucky to be having another beautiful baby girl, and a new kitchen, and a whirlpool bathtub and a built-in window seat, but damn if it isn't inconvenient at the moment to be pregnant and under construction.

Enough!

2006-07-13T21:15:00.000-04:00

We just returned from an almost two-week getaway to the Outer Banks (OBX for those in the know) and Williamsburg, VA, thinking that we escaped from the worst of (Alleged) Home Addition 2006. Wrong! We returned to an inch of dust on everything we own, including the five-and a half foot jacuzzi bathtub sitting in the middle of my living room floor. A new coffee table! Lucky us! It goes well with the end tables - boxes of toilets and plumbing fixtures. At least the kids have something else to sit on besides my bed, which is, of course, in my living room...which isn't terrible, being that my "kitchen" (a fridge, a microwave and some paper plates) is now in my dining room, and my old kitchen is no more.

And just to add to my dismay, the contractors knocked out our internet connection.

So, we have moved out until further notice. I'll post when I move back in. Baby #4, btw, is scheduled for 10:30 am on August 4th. My granite countertop people are coming out to template on July 24th. What will be finished first? Perhaps we can start a poll or something.
I'd post pictures, but Vincent dropped the camera in OBX and it is broken. Can you say Nikon D80?

I so totally need a drink.

OK, OK, OK.

2006-06-24T09:52:00.000-04:00

Yeah, well, it's been a while, hasn't it? I've been meaning to just suck it up and post forever but it just seemed so damned unreasonable, being that I've missed so many milestones. My next post was supposed to be titled "Five," for Riley's birthday. But on the exact date of Riley's fifth birthday party I became so excruciatingly ill that i didn't get out of bed again until, well... OK, I'm still in bed as much as humanly possible.

So here I am, very very pregnant with another baby girl, whom we are unceremonially planning to have surgically extracated from my body at about 10:30 am on August 4th. Yes, another girl. I am clearly being punished for my adolescence.

Actually, there were lots of tears over the girl thing, mostly (and also most suprisingly) from me. It seems that everyone wanted a boy - Riley because he wanted a brother, Bella because she didn't want another little sister, Vincent and I for "balance," and Adelyn...well, she didn't say so but I think she'd like to stay the littlest princess in our family if she could. Coming from a family with no sisters anywhere in our geneology, I am feeling incredibly sad for my son that he will not have a brother. But, as a well meaning friend pointed out, he will certainly make a very good husband, or be gay or highly metrosexual. I guess he'll be OK regardless. And since my ob/gyn has asked at every single visit including the first one if I am getting my tubes tied this time, we don't really have a choice in the matter. Seems they are very against having a fifth C-Section, something about "risks" or something. Blah blah blah. OK, OK, We're done, I promise. Sheesh.

Soooo....Riley turned five, and Bella turned four, and Adelyn just turned two last week. We celebrated Christmas, and New Year's, Valentine's Day, and Easter. Riley graduated from preschool! Bella had a ballet recital! Don't worry, I'll post pictures of everything. It was all good.

Probably most exciting is that we have begun the "Alleged Home Addition", and, at present, the shell is complete. That is, we have the basement, with walkout stairs, plus the shell of the two-story addition, which is roofed, with soffets and gutters, and electricity, HVAC and plumbing almost complete. They have already broken through and fixed the part upstairs that will be my master bathroom's shower, and they break through my kitchen and upstairs hallway next week. Yes, and of course I have photos of that too. Cabinets are ordered and we are buying the rest tonight - who knew I'd be so excited over toilets and faucets? Oh, and my jacuzzi bathtub, which is being delivered next week as well. YUM. Now who is going to babysit while I take my bath?

Overall, I've been trying very hard to spend absolutely zero time at home, as there are anywhere from 7 to 15 men parading around my house all day and I am currently sleeping in my living room. Plus, they keep knocking my cable line out. In my house, cable = sanity, so you can guess how well I must be doing emotionally. But here I am at work this morning, where there are people crazier than me (OK, maybe not, but they, unlike me, are not free to leave), as well as an active internet connection, so I am finally posting.

There. It's done. Hanging over my head for months, and yet I can't. seem. to. push. the. "publish post". button.

Push the button!

Four. And four. And four.

2005-12-14T02:34:00.000-05:00

In the beginning of November, I flew to Phoenix to attend my the wedding of my fourth friend from high school to be married. They're a slow bunch, as we're in our mid-thirties now, but when they actually commit, they do it well.

I was particularly looking forward to this wedding because I have been pregnant for every single other nuptial of these lifelong friends. I was so pregnant for the last one, in fact, that I was unable to fly out to attend the wedding at all, and Adelyn was born a mere two days later.

Suffice it to say that Xanax works, as it got me one the plane at least. Xanax also made it difficult to concentrate on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but even when I'm high as a kite I can maintain some level of focus on Johnny Depp.

What followed the flight was several days of decadence - there was drinking, and eating, and lounging by the pool (which was too cold to actually swim in but how can I complain) in my bikini, yes, bikini, and of course there was my weekend objective to smoke cigarettes with abandon with my old friends who do in fact still smoke, and while that made me slightly ill it was fun and reminiscent and no I do not claim to be the rolemodel of good health.

I was a bit spooked by the Xanax though, since the pharmacist freaked out when it was prescribed to me - she held the package and wouldn't let the pharmacy tech give it to me until we "had a word." I have been taking prenatal vitamins since 1999, and she was apparantly fearful that I might be pregnant, hell, most people taking prenatal vitamins are pregnant, right? So I got a song and dance about the dangers of ingesting Xanax while pregnant, and a lecture on the exact half life of the drug - which is in your system for approximately two and a half days for those of you that must know.

Now, since I was allegedly ovulating upon my return from Phoenix (with the old PCOS I am never really sure if and when I ovulate), and Vincent and I were contemplating a fourth pregnancy, I decided to self medicate the old fashioned way (read: get rip-roaring drunk!) on the flight home.

So I step into a bar and proceed to ingest 40 ounces of beer and six cigarettes in about 15 minutes, the first time I was actually intoxicated all weekend (Alcohol has calories in it, you know. Must choose battles). It is the wild wild west in Arizona, and you can actually smoke inside of the airport! Bizarre.

Hiccupping, I sashayed up to the gate with about ten minutes to spare before my flight, and, as I approached, I notice that plane appears to be moving. "Must be drunk," I think to myself.

The moral here is that in the days post-911 flights stop boarding at least ten minutes before they are scheduled to leave. Who knew? The plane was moving. Without me.

So I am now drunk, and all alone in an airport in Phoenix, incredulous that I've missed my flight. As it turns out, I am very very lucky, as there was another flight in an hour and fifteen minutes, and the airline was able to get me a seat. Of course, I still needed to call my mother-in-law and tell her that I was drunk and missed my flight and basically a dumbass and her son really could have done much better and I'll try not to have sex with some cowboy at the airport. Or something like that. I can't really remember what I said because I was drunk, but the woman was at my house with my three children, so I needed to tell her something.

So...where are we? Yes, four weddings. Check.

Of course, nothing is more fun that attending the wedding of an old high school friend than doing so in a size four. It was a dream. I love being skinny again. It's fabulous, really, but it makes me wonder whether I'm willing to gain it all back and get pregnant again. Losing weight is getting harder and harder for me, and I've finally put all of my "fat clothes" back in the attic. I haven't actually given them away yet - that would be committing to never being fat again - which I cannot promise as we want a fourth child.

Yes, the last four. Baby number four. Do we want four? Should we have four?

So, in late November, Vincent and I are debating a romp under the sheets, and the subsequent condom wearing, when we decide to take a test run for pregnancy. Really, I should have missed my ovulation, and am due for my period any second. This fills me with some sadness, as I had secretly thought I might end up technically pregnant for my friend's wedding, you know, that I had attended after my LMP but before I conceived but then there's that whole we-start-counting-on-the-day-of-your-last-period thing and my streak remains unbroken.

So, we threw caution to the wind and had unprotected sex.

And well, you know what happened next, don't you?

Leaving on a jet plane...

2005-11-02T21:53:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow evening I'm flying for the first time in six years. The first time since I've had kids. The first time since 9/11. I'm heading, by myself, to a friend's wedding in Phoenix and I am scared to death. If I can get over my fear of flying, it will be wonderful to spend four child-free night drinking and carousing with my old friends.

If.

All day my head has been full of thoughts like, "This might be the last dinner I have with my family" and "This might be the last time I kiss my kids goodnight."

Actually, I was out at Walgreen's picking up a prescription for Xanax while Vincent was putting the kids to bed. When I came home, Bella was already asleep - the child hasn't fallen asleep before 9:30 in months and she chooses tonight to get sleepy?

I've never taken Xanax, and since I was also picking up my prenatal vitamin refill, the pharmacist panicked and almost didn't give them to me. I had to explain that I am not pregnant, but I still nurse Adelyn in the mornings sometimes, and that we are thinking about getting pregnant again soon but not actively trying before she'd release the Xanax to me. She scared me half to death, actually. I guess if I end up taking it we won't be trying to get pregnant this month at all. Or next, because that would put me giving birth around Riley's first day of Kindergarten and it would be my luck to have that kind of chaos in my life.

Speaking of Riley, did you know that he was born on a Thursday night? Know why I remember that? Because the Asian doctor on ER gave birth to her son (the one that she gave up for adoption) pretty much at exactly the same moment, EST, that I was giving birth to Riley.

Do you know what will be on ER Thursday night, at precisely the moment my pilot is landing my plane in Phoenix?

Yes, a plane crash.

I think I'll be taking that Xanax after all.

2005-10-31T16:20:00.000-05:00

More Halloween photos - I thought this was acute one of the kids in their festive Halloween shirts. Of course you can't really see the shirts in this picture, but you get the idea.

2005-10-31T12:41:00.000-05:00

This is just too cute not to add.

2005-10-31T12:40:00.000-05:00

Meeooow.

2005-10-31T12:38:00.000-05:00

Riley as Avatar, the Last Airbender.

2005-10-31T12:37:00.000-05:00

Bella as Snow White

Well it scared her, anyway. Happy Halloween!

2005-10-31T12:35:00.000-05:00

My mom tells me that it looks like I'm wearing one of those big fake noses in that last picture.

Thaaanks Mom.

Introducing the winners of the township Halloween parade!

2005-10-30T14:18:00.000-05:00

We won a pizza bowling party for five!

All dressed up with nowhere to go

2005-10-29T12:12:00.000-04:00

This morning we rushed around like idiots getting into our Scooby Doo get-ups, myself as Daphne, complete with orange-sprayed hair aand large green scarf. Vincent, of course, was Shaggy, Bella was Velma, and Riley Fred because he has "yellow hair." Adelyn made a rowdy Scooby-Doo, and I tranformed the wagon into the Mystery Machine. Perfect.

Vincent headed off for the town parade with the kids in the wagon, and I prepared to follow in the minivan with cameras fully loaded and jackets tucked inside for the cold walk home.

Adelyn would miss her morning nap, but I'd drive her home before the parade ended so she could get some sleep before the neighborhod Mischief Party, a kid's event filled with silly string and shaving cream, that began at 2:00 and ended after I was scheduled to head to work. No worries! I'd arranged to be an hour late.

We were totally on time for our 11:00 am parade debut. With the kids gone, I headed over in the van, only to encounter Vincent already trudging back with the kids.

The parade is at one.

Comments

2005-10-28T12:36:00.000-04:00

I'm changing my comment preferenes because of an enormous amount of spam that I'm getting. Now you can't be anonymous and you'll need to identify one of those squiggly word things like on the Ticketmaster site, if you've ever used it. I apologize but I hate deleting spam every day...

Blah.

2005-10-25T11:37:00.000-04:00

It's cold, it's rainy, I'm suffering from flu symptoms from my flu shot, I think, and poor Adelyn has my crappy veins and it took the nurse about ten minutes last night for the pediatric nurse to draw blood for her iron level. But she's a doll, and we sang songs while the nurse first tightened the arm band, then made me pull it up, then took it off in an effort to get two vials of blood from my sweet little girl.

Things have been hectic - Vincent returned from Munich and then I worked every other night at the hospital, filling in for someone who recently left and has not yet been replaced. I enjoy it depsite the parade of suicidal teenagers, even the one who tried to hang himself in the shower and was found unconscious with a rope around his neck. He was particualrly disarming in his attempt to convince me that he had not attempted to kill himself, that everything was fine, and that he didn't know why he was there, despite the fact that his parents screamed at each other throughout my assessment and signing him in.

I also worked two mornings at the kids' preschool, filling in for my friend, the two year old teacher, while she vacationed with her husband. Believe it or not, working at the hospital is much more relaxing.

But I have recently discovered Jennifer Weiner, and am happily plodding through my SIL's autographed copy of Good in Bed, so things remain pretty good, considering.

I'm becoming a bit morose over my neighbors. I have friends, but many of them work or live far away. I don't really need more, and yet, they're right here, with kids my own children's ages, and well, I'm not sure if I like or trust any of them. Most of them are teamed up in tight circles with one another, and while I know it would be nice to sip tea with my confidant as the children play, as I did yesterday afternoon, I don't have much to say to them. None of my kids are in elementary school yet, so I can't comment on the teachers, or on township government (I'm uninvolved), or gossip about nieghborhood politics. I guess I sort of want to, but not enough to put myself out there as someone to be gossiped about as well, which seems inevitable, doesn't it? Of course, the Catch 22 is that I could be an object of gossip for not being involved in the discussion. Sigh.

We still have grandiose plans for an addition, but no contractor. My mother recenlt found out that my kids were over to visit my father (thanks Riley) and that he took all of his pension money out of the account that was supposed to go to her. She is now popping tranquilizers again.

I cannot for the life of me find a blad head mask thingy fit for a four year old, so how the hell am I going to make Riley look like Avatar? And do I dress Adelyn up as Snow White like her big sister Bella (we have two) or do I do something else for her just so that they're different?

Which all leaves me feeling just sort of...blah. Not depresssed, just unmotivated and generally icky.

Blah.

I just wanted to shout - I AM NOW A SIZE FOUR!!

2005-10-18T00:46:00.000-04:00

As highlighted by the fact that I can hide almost completely behind my four year old son.

DID it!

2005-10-14T15:43:00.000-04:00

The title is in ode to Adelyn, who screetches "Did it!" in a precise impersonation of Danny Lloyd's "Redrum," but without the finger wiggling. Trust me, it's cute, not creepy. OK, it's a little creepy, but very very cute.

Today is Friday, and exactly one week ago, Vincent went on his first business trip in years. To Munich. As in Munich, Germany. For a whole week.

I have always championed my husband's ability to care for the children, much to the chagrin of other moms whose husbands don't do bedtime, or dishes, or vacuuming. Truth is, it is I who hasn't touched a vacuum in something like two years.

Every day at about 5:00, I start walking v e r y s l o w l y by the back door, peering longingly outside for Vincent's car to pull up the street.

"Oh, you want an apple, kids? Let me just s t r o l l into the kitchen and get one."

Anyway, in the week since he's been gone, yes yes of course I went to my mother's, and even left the kids there for a night so I could go grocery shopping and out drinking with my girlfriends. But it has rained every single day, poured actually, and we have been trapped in the house, but amazingly, things have been good. I vacuumed - upstairs and down! I sorted through the kids' art projects (from both daycare and last year at preschool, yes I'm that bad) that have been clogging up their closets. They are labeled, organized and in the attic. And yes, we've been to both McDonald's and the local mom-and-pop Chuck E. Cheese knockoff, but the kids have been asleep no less than an hour earlier than usual, the house is nearly spotless, and we have been watching less TV. Riley has even developed a love for the local public radio show that both my husband and I have been looking forward to the kids being old enough to listen to.

I had a conversation once with an old friend who has said that her husband isn't always terribly helpful, and we concluded that he never really had to be - he travels for work frequently and she has always taken a primary role in caring for the house and children. Vincent has been just the opposite - he has always been around, and I'm completely dependent on him.

Until this week. We survived. Things were great actually, even more restful than usual.

So what does that mean for the future? My self-esteem got a boost, that's for sure. Maybe I won't be pining for the back door to open so much every night - it would be refreshing to stop waiting for my perceived "replacement" and just enjoy the time that is now.

And will my house be cleaner? I hope so. At least I know where to find the vacuum.

The most wonderful time of the year!!

2005-09-19T13:03:00.000-04:00

The kids are almost as happy as I am!

That damned macaroni and cheese

2005-09-16T11:56:00.000-04:00

Last night I ate a grilled cheese sandwich and stewed tomatoes for dinner, and some green beans. The kids had mac and cheese and tomato soup (it was obviously a low-key dinner night), and I had a few points left, so I had some mac and cheese too.

When I weighed in last night, I was .4 lbs over goal, 140 lbs.

I took off my watch, my rings, my bracelets.

.2 lbs over.

This morning, naked and without breakfast, I weighed 135.5 lbs.

AAAAARRRGGGGGGGG!

Next week, I am not eating dinner before I weigh in.

Yes, yes, I'm back.

2005-09-15T12:46:00.000-04:00

It was an excellent vacation, with lots of sunshine, fried food, sand, surf, and ice cream. Oh, and even fried oreos, which, if you've never had a fried oreo, than suffice it to say that you haven't lived. Seriously, those things are good.

Things have been chaotic since I've been back, and there's so much to talk about that I don't know where to begin.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I do.

Right now, my ass is saddled up in a size SIX pair of khakis, and they fit perfectly.

Six.

I weigh in at 7:00pm and if I lay off and eat a light dinner, I may actually meet my WW goal tonight.

But either way the pants look damn good, if I might say so myself.

Hiatus

2005-08-28T22:37:00.000-04:00

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??

2005-08-27T17:55:00.000-04:00

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

2005-08-27T12:30:00.000-04:00

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?

2005-08-26T23:16:00.000-04:00

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??

2005-08-26T23:14:00.000-04:00

Hmmmm.....

I am breathing that damn song every moment of every day

2005-08-24T08:52:00.000-04:00

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!

2005-08-23T21:45:00.000-04:00

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

Vincent's Quote of the Day

2005-08-22T18:33:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-08-22T16:10:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-08-17T23:04:00.000-04:00

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...

2005-08-15T16:14:00.000-04:00

"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

2005-08-15T12:24:00.000-04:00

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

2005-08-13T09:34:00.000-04:00

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

Drunkard's Lament - a haiku

2005-08-13T00:01:00.000-04:00

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...

2005-08-12T10:08:00.000-04:00

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?

2005-08-11T23:44:00.000-04:00

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

2005-08-11T23:31:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-08-10T16:24:00.000-04:00

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...

2005-08-10T16:22:00.000-04:00

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

2005-08-10T16:11:00.000-04:00

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

Everybody loves a parade...

2005-08-10T16:09:00.000-04:00

At Sesame Place

OUCH!

2005-08-10T16:08:00.000-04:00

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....

2005-08-09T15:52:00.000-04:00

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...

2005-08-04T16:54:00.000-04:00

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

2005-08-04T16:52:00.000-04:00

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

2005-08-04T15:53:00.000-04:00

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?

Heading Out

2005-07-01T22:54:00.000-04:00

Yeah, we've been busy doing the requisite nothing of summer. Our local "Summer Playground," God love it, keeps the kids (save for Adelyn, of course) occupied in the morning, and then we're off to the pool, and home for Adelyn's second nap and dinner preparation. It seems like nothing, but it fills my days.

And now we are on vacation for a week, starting tomorrow, so really I'm no fun.

But when I get back, I hope to write about Adelyn's recent prowess for imitating animal sounds, and my Google-whoring her anemia diagnosis into leukemia (thank God I have a brother who is a doctor or I'd still be convinced that there is something her pediatrician isn't telling me).

I'll also explain why I got 15 parenting books out of the library for Riley, and how Bella is still decidely NOT potty trained.

Oh, and the crazy drunk guy at the bar last night who kept telling me "You're a pretty girl!" Sadly, this made my night.

Anyway, I could vent about our new Supreme Court Justice vacancy and, and, as if that wasn't bad enough, how they pre-empted The View to tell me such horrible news, right when crazy Scientologist Tom Cruise was coming on, but really that would just be bitter of me.

But let's take a moment to marvel at the stupidity of this woman in Virgina, particularly in light of the recent deaths of three young boys in Camden, NJ. This is my favorite line in the article (the italics are mine):

"Ingersoll said the driver initially denied having children in the trunk, but then untied the rope that was holding the trunk shut and let out the children.

Hmmm.

So have a safe and happy 4th of July. I'll be tying one on, but not on my trunk. Besides, I drive a minivan.

Huh.

2005-06-26T00:43:00.000-04:00

Bizarre.

Was it PMS or maybe I was just drunk?

2005-06-18T09:15:00.000-04:00

Last night I put way too much rum in my mojitos at a neighborhood wine and cheese party, and when I came home, Vincent came running outside in his underwear.

"We need milk! Go to Wawa!"

As Wawa is so close that we frequently walk, I turned back around and headed off, even though I just wanted to go to bed. I had just gotten my period and it always leaves me nauseous, so that with the mojitos was an increasingly unpleasant combination.

This bippy little girl was in front of me on line buying cigarettes and two individually wrapped chocolate candies.

Two! Not a whole bag - just two. My blood started to boil.

She cheerfully greeted the cashier with news of her college graduation, and gushed that she was headed to graduate school! Back in Massachusetts! Yay!

I had to fight the urge to spin her around and scream, "Why? You'll just end up home with three kids and thinking that an outing to Wawa is a fucking vacation anyway, so save your money and go off and join a fucking nunnery while you still can!"

You're not a baby, not quite a toddler...

2005-06-15T21:34:00.000-04:00

My darling little Adelyn, you are one year old today. I cannot believe how you've taken our lives by storm and turned our house upside down, but that shouldn't surprise me because upside down is your favorite position. When Daddy comes home from work, you are flinging yourself backwards in his arms almost before he has you in his grasp. Then you giggle wildly and do it again, completely oblivious to the peril you've put yourself in.

One year and nine months ago today, Mommy and Daddy went to a wedding and got really drunk, and then decided that we should go off and get snuggly in the back of the family sedan. We hadn't done that since high school. Luckily for us, you waited until after high school to actually show up.

Just weeks before that, we were at the Jersey shore and I went to see the psychic that my friends had spoken so highly of. She immediately told me that I had two children already, a boy and a girl, and then announced that I should wait a while before having a third.

"Why?" I stammered.

"Because it's hard," she said, gesturing to her own three children, sitting dutifully on the bench outside. "You'll end up like me."

So here I am, a gypsy in my own home, three children trailing wherever I go.

We were supposed to start the Great Big Home Addition in the Spring and I asked Vincent if maybe the psychic was right, and that we should wait before considering a third child. He was furious that I should take her opinion into account. She told me she saw a pretty new room, filled with flowery bedding. "Our addition is supposed to start!" I exclaimed, "and we're getting a new kitchen and master bedroom suite but I think we're keeping our bedroom comforter," I added dubiously. She only stared.

Of course, you came, and since one addition was enough, we did some preliminary work and put a new bedroom in for you, complete with floral curtains and bedding. I'm still cooking on a range older than I am.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I cried and cried and cried. I didn't get out of bed for two days. Later, when my Quad Screen came back as being potentially at risk for Trisomy 18, I cried and cried and cried and didn't get out of bed for a week. I was convinced that this was what the psychic meant when she told me to wait. I prayed that you would be well and spent hours scouring the internet for websites that could tell me more, tell me you'd be OK. I still visit them, haunted by what might have been.

I am so very grateful for the gift of learning just how much I loved you while you were still inside of me, and even more so that you are healthy and well and here with us today.

You were such a sweet baby. We were going to call you "Addie" - actually, we couldn't decide between Adelyn or Adelaide or Adeline, and had to make flashcards in the hospital just before they kicked us out. Riley and Bella settled on "Baby Adelyn" and wouldn't let us call you anything else, and so you've been "Baby Adelyn" ever since. I think you'll hate us for it by prom night, at least.

You loved to be held - so much so that we slept together every night, you lying on my chest, for months. Actually, it turns out that you had reflux and would only sleep sitting up until we gave you baby Zantac. Every morning I still bring you into bed with me, and we snuggle and you nurse and you spoon your little body up against mine. You're becoming restless these days, rolling around on the bed, almost rolling off before I catch you by the ankles, laughing, always laughing you are. I already miss the days when we'd both drift back to sleep in each other's arms. I know that it won't be long before you are too excited to start the day to pause in my bed in the morning, so I cherish every moment.

As Riley and Bella awaken, you greet them with exuberence. You can't say "Riley" yet, but you squal "Lala!" whenever Bella walks into the room and you positively glow at the sight of either one of them. And they adore you. They love to play with you in your room, checking to see if you'll bang cups together just like they do, or those little balls from your Stand Up Ball Blast. That is your absolute favorite toy, because it plays music that you can dance to, and you love to roll the balls down the track and then see where they're going to come out. You are absolutely vibrant when you dance. Your face lights up and you wiggle your shoulders and it is absolutely divine. Riley and Bella never danced quite like that - you have a rhythm all your own.

Having a big brother and sister has it's downsides, for me anyway. You still won't say "Mama" but you come close, I think. Just the important things, like "Lala," and I think maybe "this" and "that" and "night-night." You adore your crib. I have never had a child so easy to put to sleep - you practically dive for it whenever I suggest that it's time to go in. Then you grab your binkie and clutch your bear (like this one only much cuter) and collapse on top of him. I turn down the light and walk out, and you are content. I wonder if the only peace you get in this crazy house is in that crib. Maybe that's why you like it so much.

I love you so much that it aches when I conjure up your smell, the feel of your skin when I kiss the rolls under your neck. I love the light in your eyes when you spy the cat from across the room, and the gentle way you press your forehead onto his when I catch and hold him for you. I melt when you shower me with kisses, even when you get so excited that you bite my cheek or bang your head into mine over and over and over again - kiss, kiss, kiss!

I know that the devilish grin that you flash before you grab the remote control, or the phone, means that you are no longer my baby. You are already having little temper tantrums, thrashing about when you don't get your way, or simply crumpling onto the floor in despair. I can tell that it hurts your feelings when I say "No!", and you cry as though I've broken your heart. I know that this year there will be boo-boos, and band-aids, and pigtails. You'll learn to walk on your own, and before we both know it, you'll be running full speed into toddlerhood, and out of my arms. As much as it pains me to carry you around everywhere, my heart aches at the thought that, when preschool begins again in September, you will be running on your own two feet. You have always played independently, and you will keep moving farther away from me. But I am so proud of you, and if I'm no longer carrying you then I will be cheering you on from as close as you'll let me come.

You are a blessing from God and you were meant to be here with us, and I love you with all of my being.

Happy Birthday Baby Adelyn.

Happy Flag Day everyone - in years past, I would already be drunk at the beach with friends. Gotta love government holidays!

2005-06-14T15:48:00.000-04:00

Today was our last "Twenty Point Playgroup" of the year, and we had it at our swim club. So of course, that means more cupcakes for Adelyn! It's not quite getting loaded on Coors Light at your friend's shore house, but it'll do. And while I enjoyed having every Flag Day off as a working woman, I love being a SAHM in the summertime.

Breakthrough

2005-06-13T15:51:00.000-04:00

Last night, I lay down in bed with Bella, who was still awake at 10:00 pm (she fell asleep on the couch at five so we knew we were doomed). It was a rare opportunity to talk to my middle child alone, and since she's been resisting any attempts at potty training, I thought I'd take the opportunity to plug that s well.

"I got a new bed," she said, clutching her life-sized Strawberry Shortcake. Of course, she's been sleeping in the bed for almost a year now, after she peed in her crib one night after her bath, and yes, before putting her diaper on. "And you took my crib away," she sobbed, fighting back tears.

We talked about how she is getting to be such a big girl.

"I don't want to be big," she said, "but Adelyn makes me bigger."

Oooooh. I get it.

So we talked about how proud I am of her that she can do big girl things now, like take Soccer and Ballet lessons in the Fall, and go to a big kid school. And when she goes peepee and poop in the potty all the time, she can take swimming lessons and go in the big kid pool, and to summer camp with Riley (Do you think she saw through that one?).

I pointed out that babies that sleep in cribs don't get to do these things, or eat candy, or ride bikes. I added that I can't stop her from growing up, and that she gets bigger every day. But she'd always be my baby.

"I don't want to be a baby!"

Oh well, so much for my breakthrough.

Today was the best day of her life so far I think, between the moonbounce and the cake.

2005-06-11T16:06:00.000-04:00

Today was Adelyn's first birthday party, and she chose NOT to cry. She must not have wanted to!

It's officially summer now!

2005-06-09T16:21:00.000-04:00

Today was also their last day of preschool. I got a sitter so that I could go to their end-of-the-year show and still have Adelyn nap. And of course I got her to stay with all three of them so that I could get to Baja Fresh for lunch, because I may be cheap, but I'm not CRAZY.

The kids enjoy their first lemonade stand...

2005-06-09T16:05:00.000-04:00

...and made a small fortune in the process. Of course, they didn't pay for their OWN lemonade!

Phew!

2005-06-06T18:52:00.000-04:00

Riley asked me today which of the kids I liked best. I explained that I love them all, that each one adds something uniquely wonderful to my life.

I added, "You know, like Daddy and me. Can you really say that you like one of us better than the other?"

Then I held my breath.

Please God, don't let him say that he likes Daddy better. Please God, don't let him say that he likes Daddy better. Please God...

"Yeah," he laughed. "Like, I love you both so much because you're different. You're both the best Mommy and Daddy ever."

Exhale.

I guess it's time for some parental controls

2005-06-03T10:48:00.000-04:00

Poor Riley was sick this morn'
A fact that left him quite forlorn

But his mother's no fool
She sent Bella to school

And let him sit on the couch watching...uh, Scooby Doo. And the Witch's Ghost.

What did you think I was going to say? Come on now. Adelyn is the one who changes the channel searching for a little action, if you know what I'm saying. Yesterday, I found Adelyn on the living room floor, still clutching the remote and laughing, as Riley and Bella sat fixated on the TV.

"What on earth are you watching?" I gasped.

"A grown-up show, I guess?" said Riley, never tearing his eyes away from the screen.

But of course Adelyn is napping now, so Scooby-Doo it is.

2005-05-27T23:03:00.000-04:00

My favorite picture of the day. Cinderella must really love Snow White to play dress up like this.

2005-05-27T23:01:00.000-04:00

And this is what she looked like after she turned three.

2005-05-27T22:56:00.000-04:00

This is the last photo of Bella as a two year old little girl.

2005-05-27T22:51:00.000-04:00

I have this alarming habit of making each child's birthday cake myself. Can you guess what the them of this year's party was?

2005-05-27T22:50:00.000-04:00

Here's a family shot on the day of Bella's birthday party, last Saturday.

Happy Birthday, Pink Ice Cream

2005-05-24T22:10:00.000-04:00

Well, my little girl is three years old today. Yesterday she was two, all hugs and kisses and snuggles, and now she's morphed into this screaming little adorable bundle of "I want a banana!" and then when you hand her a banana, she puddles onto the floor wailing, "I don't want a banana!"

Three, I told you.

My little girl is a rush of independence. If she tells you that she wants lemonade, and you respond by advising her that the neighbors don't have lemonade but we have it at home and we'll get some later, she will whirl around and head for home before you finish your sentence. Never mind if you are 15 miles away, she's hoofing it. Now. This is what led her to stroll out of McDonald's a few weeks ago. I told her that it was time to leave, expecting that shoes would be put back on and purses picked up and the usual we're-heading-home-now sort of gathering to take place. But of course, she just left. Unfortunately, I thought she had headed back up into the play nets and I sent Riley in after her. That was when I saw the nice woman (thank you nice woman) holding her hand and guiding her back into the restaurant from the parking lot.

Bella is not quite potty trained, though we did purchase the requisite truckload of princess and Dora panties, with some Care Bears thrown in for good measure. I left my mother home with her for 15 minutes yesterday, and when I returned, she announced that she felt like "that crazy woman on Desperate Housewives." Bella had told her that she needed to poop, so my mother sent her upstairs by herself and said she'd meet her in the bathroom when she was done. She was greeted with a bathroom smeared with feces - it was even between my daughter's toes - and incomprehensibly, on the cap of my Secret deoderant.

Bella continues to be the favorite child of her teachers - they whisper it to me in confidence as if I haven't heard it before. She has a way of looking at you and making the rest of the world disappear, and the effect is certainly not lost on me, either. Nose to nose, breathless, she'll whisper, "I love you Mommy" while gently stroking your hair. Time stands still.

Bella is and always has been just like her father in being able to focus completely on the object of her attention. In contrast, Riley was a "nosey" baby, as my grandmother liked to put it. He would not allow you to snuggle him in to your chest as an infant. Rather, he would scream unless he was psitioned out so that he could take in the world. He gets this from me. But Bella, from the time she was an infant, would pat you on the back as she hugged you, kiss your boo boos, and gaze lovingly, unflinchingly into your eyes. When she regards you, she is looking into you, and you relish the attention. You are honored.

She's also my silliest little one. "Eat me!" she will exclaim. "I'm pink ice cream!" And then she'll giggle as you gobble her up. Her imagination is endless, and sometimes I see her fluttering imaginary wings or hopping like a frog through the house all alone. She strolls through our house singing, gloriously oblivious to being completely tone deaf (also like her father) and yet her voice is like an angel.

Every morning as Adelyn naps, I soak in the tub after I shower - it helps me to think and clears my head. On the mornings that she is home and Riley is at school, Bella will wander into the bathroom and become my bathmaid. She hides behind the shower curtain and "cooks" me french fries and chicken - her favorite - and what I love most is that she is so absolutely Bella as she prepares our imaginary feast. She stares intently down at her hands as they act out placing each piece of chicken on a plate from the oven, and presents her bounty to me with all the grandiur of a five star chef. She will share her greatest treasure with you without a moment's hesitation. Her trust in others is remarkable, and yet, she is no victim. She will bellow with rage if you do her wrong. Her strength amazes me every day.

Bella, I don't spend enough time with you, painting your toenails and putting on lipstick and "driving" under the covers to your cousin Mason's house. I spend too much time trying to get you to behave, to hold my hand when you cross the street, to stop smothering your sister with kisses and voracious hugs. But of course, these are the things that I love most about you. Please don't change. Please don't stop kissing your sister and chasing after your dreams, even if right now that only includes some lemonade and a quick trip home from McDonald's.

My princess, my wandering angel, my pink ice cream - happy birthday sweetheart.

I love you.

For the record, Grandma bought him this ridiculous sweatshirt, and he dresses himself.

2005-05-23T20:20:00.000-04:00

While I realize that it looks as though I am killing him WITH HIS OWN GUN, I assure you that this child is extraordinarily happy with his Power Rangers weapon of choice. He saved his allowance for a whole THREE MONTHS to buy this gun, and this evening, when Grandma gave him the $2 to send him over the edge, he insisted that we go to Target just this instant to buy it. Of course, I obliged. It was his first Target purchase!

Of course, when we went to purchase it, another Mom was there with her son. Looking disapprovingly at me, she advised her pleading little boy that no weapons are allowed in her home.

HEY. The boy saved up for the damn thing himself. He could have bought a whole fucking Power Rangers arsenal if he could afford it.

Just another friendly neighborhod drive-by*, I guess.

* Damn! Grrl took down her archives, I frgot. No link. If you get it, you get it, and if you don't, you missed out.

Thank you.

2005-05-22T19:44:00.000-04:00

Thank you everyone for your kind words. I'd email you individually to thank you, but I know Cecily, and I am no Cecily.

Your support and kindness and commraderie (did I misspell that?) really helped me through the last few days. I'm feeling much better now, so I'm guessing I (mostly) have a PMS problem.
Do they sell Paxil at Target??

The blog ate my homework and other sad excuses for not posting lately.

2005-05-22T11:20:00.000-04:00

So I had high hopes. In my head, I wrote a beautiful Mother's Day entry about my amazing children whom I adore.

Then there was the entry thanking the nice woman for bringing Bella back inside of the McDonald's without kidnapping her.

And Adelyn's dancing. That was a good one. She is absolutely divine. She bounces and rocks her shoulders and I had to openly admit to her that she is just my cutest dancing baby, but shh, don't tell the others.

And the one about Bella strolling into the kitchen, asking for chocolate milk, and declaring that "poop fell on the floor" (never leave your child in a skort with no diaper or panties. Bad bad bad.).

And Riley and his little best friend Jack holding hands while walking home from preschool, declaring each other best friends and then licking each other (is that what little boys do with their best friends? I suppose it's more sanitary than pricking fingers and becoming blood brothers, but not much).

Oh, and the time that Riley told me that he would hug me and that maybe that would make me less cranky.

But that's really what my problem is, because it hasn't been working.

I have been alarmingly depressed lately about being home with the kids, and quitting my job, and the great big home addition not starting yet.

I'm tired of living in a bedroom with no closet.

I'm tired of having a kitchen that is older than I am.

I'm tired of my toddlers eating every meal on my antique dining room set because we don't have an eat in kitchen yet.

I'm tired, tired, tired.

I brought my kids with me to drop off papers at my (very part-time) jobs the other day. So yes, my kids have now seen an inpatient psych hospital and an outpatient mental health clinic. Anyway, we were in the neighborhood, so we stopped at their old daycare and spent about two hours eating lunch and visiting their old friends and teachers.

Can I tell you home at home Adelyn was in that daycare? And Riley told me that he likes his old school better, because he misses his friends (he later recanted, I'm glad to say, and told me that he likes being home with me and going to his preschool, which is what he's been saying for a while now. I would have been devestated if he had really changed his mind but not surprised because I really have been that monstrous lately). And Bella hung on her favorite teacher (OK, OK, she's also our babysitter) and had a grand old time.

Melissa wrote something once about the "Starbucks Suggestion." Basically, a friend of hers suggested that she get a part-time job at Starbucks, in order to get out of the house without the kids and regain some energy. Melissa (brilliantly) points out that you would never make the same suggestion to someone working full-time outside of the home, if he or she was complaining of being tired and run down after working all day.

I bring this up because before I quit my job (that I loved!), Vincent and I decided that we could save money to finance the addition if I did some part-time work in the evenings when he was home from work.

Voila! No daycare!

Plus, I'd be able top get out of the house and have some grown-up time for myself. And get paid to do it! Bonus!

So here I am, now a behavior specialist, and I really don't like it. Worse, I'd have to work ALOT to truly make this addition affordable, and being a behavior specialist pays pretty well but it's not like you can work for large chunks of time - it's two hours here, and an hour there - because hey, kids need to sleep more than they need in-home mental health services. Can't hang out until midnight yammering on about family systems issues to a 5 year old, can I?

I'm afraid that I'm experiencing some delayed onset PPD. I don't feel like being someone's counselor. I don't feel like a specialist in anything, especially children' behavior. I miss my old job, and I'm tired of being in this damn house all fucking day. Even so, I don't feel like going anywhere at night.

And I've been mean mean mean to the kids. Downright mean. You know it has to be bad if your four year old is using magical thinking to cure your moodiness. Worse, Bella cowered the other day as I screamed at her for who-knows-what.

Now, I am feeling a little bit better the past few days. My period just ended, so I don't know if it was major PMS, or PPD, or Spring Fever. Or that I just threw a brithday party for fifteen 3 year olds yesterday and I need to start planning the next one for mid-June.

But no matter what, I need to keep writing, because it helps to clear my head.

Is anyone still reading?

If I actually knew the lyrics to the Macarena, I'd post them here and then make a witty word change to Macaroni...get it? But I don't. Oh well.

2005-05-12T11:50:00.000-04:00

Good Lord Julia has a ton of readers.

Hello! I'm glad that you (and Patrick!) enjoyed the recipe. We love it too.
Anyway, for those of you expecting the gravy recipe to be prominently displayed on this website, here ya go:

LISA'S SUNDAY CLASSIC DINNER AL ITALIANO

1/4 c olive oil
5-6 garlic cloves, minced
1 small can tomato paste
3 28 oz cans tomato product (I usually use 2 crushed and one diced, but it's a matter of preference)
Rinse out tomato cans into one can, thereby getting all of the pulp out of the bottoms of the cans - you will add about one can of this pulpy water
1 small can Rotel tomato (this is a spicy diced tomato and it adds some kick to the gravy - skip it if you don't like spice)
a pinch of sugar
1/4 to 1/2 cup of red (think Italian table) wine - I never measure so I am totally guessing, just pour some in
2 bay leaves
1 T dried basil
salt & pepper to taste
country style pork ribs on the bone
hot & sweet Italian sausage

______________________________

Wake up in the morning, pee, and then GO CHOP GARLIC. You'll want to start the gravy by 8:30 am at the latest or it won't be ready.

Heat the oil in a big pot and brown the meat in the pot that you will be making the gravy in. Put browned meat aside on paper towels.

Heat garlic in the oil (do not burn or toast garlic - if you do, start over).

Add tomato paste and saute for a minute. Then add all cans of tomato products, seasonings, wine, water, and sugar. Finally, add the meat (if you are using meatballs, don't cook them all day, add them about an hour before eating).

Simmer the gravy until dinner time, at least eight hours. The pork will be so tender that it will fall off the bone (it is absolutely amazing cooked this way), and the sausage will help flavor the gravy.

Bake some garlic (cut off top of head of garlic, drizzle with olive oil, wrap in tin foil and bake at least an hour in a 400 degree oven), get some nice Italian bread and a good salad and you are set.

Mangia!

The earth's pull

2005-05-04T05:47:00.000-04:00

Vincent and I are sitting on Riley's bed last night when I farted, or, as Bella puts it, my tummy burped. Loudly.

"My tummy burped!" I quipped.

"Whoa," says Riley, "What if the whole earth burped??"

"Well then, I guess we'd fall off." Nothing like reassuring your children before bedtime.

"No mom, there's that thing that keeps us from falling off," he says, with that adorable preschooler insinuation that I do in fact know everything.

"Do you remember what that's called?" I ask.

"Gravity!" he yells, beaming when he realizes that he's remembered such a grown-up word. "Did I get it right?" he wants to know.

My husband and I glance lovingly at one another, sharing pride of our little genius boy.

"And grass," Riley adds.

Of course. That's why they make cleats, silly. To help you stay put.

I'm looking forward to (possibly) weighing less than her in about six months.

2005-05-03T19:23:00.000-04:00

This is lame.

Lame.

Addie goes to Hollywood

2005-04-29T22:20:00.000-04:00

Girlfriend is so HOT right now. Don't you just adore the way her flower hair clip accents her necklaces? BLING, baby.

And life goes on

2005-04-27T09:54:00.000-04:00

Two nights ago, Bella bit a hole in her last binkie. Vincent told her that he'd need to throw it away because it was broken, and then came slinking into our room to ask what to do.

I fought the urge to say, "make a parenting decision by yourself and then just let me know about it, just this once." Instead, together we decided that it was the end of Bella's binkie days.

And then it was over. She went to sleep, without the binkie. Last night, she asked for it again, and Vincent reminded her that we had thrown it away.

And then she went to sleep. Without the binkie.

So I guess it's over - my baby is no longer a baby. Now she just needs to use the potty consistently and I can send her right off to college.

In other news, Adelyn has a new game, which consists of crawling as quickly as she can to the toilet and splashing furiously until I stop her. And don't talk to me about toilet locks - there are (almost) four other toilet users in this house, people who do not confuse the toilet with a swimming pool - and not everyone can unlock in time. So do I want swimming pools of urine on the floor outside of the toilet? No. I'll shoot for trying to keep the bathroom door closed, thank you very much.

Besides, Riley's in this stealth mode thing where he likes to poop and then wipe himself and pretend that it didn't happen. Except that he doesn't always flush. At least this allows me to sometimes realize what he's done - and wipe the remaining tablespoon of feces off of his tiny ass before he sits on my couch.

Trust me, you are no more disgusted than I am.

And, no, Adelyn has not discovered unflushed poop floating in her country club pool. Yet. But you and I fear the same thing, my friend. The stars are lining up too neatly for me to pretend that it won't happen, even once.

Pray for us.

Move along, nothing to see here

2005-04-22T17:17:00.000-04:00

I have absolutely nothing to say.

I lost a whopping .25 pounds at Weight Watchers this week, so, well um, yeah.

Tonight I am heading out to a major drunkfest - a benefit for juvenile detectives and social workers. And then tomorrow morning we head to VA for a family party at the ungodly hour of 9:00 am, which wouldn't be so bad if I didn't plan on getting home at 3 this evening. Pray for me, even though I'm an idiot.

It's raining, and we've watched no less than 6 hours of TV today. Even so, somehow I missed most of Oprah.

So enjoy your weekends everyone. That is, those of you who chose to read after the first line.

I did warn you, didn't I?

When she's in therapy this is one thing she won't be able to blame on me

2005-04-19T23:17:00.000-04:00

Those white shoes SO TOTALLY don't match her pajamas.

Skip to my Lou. Who the hell is Lou?

2005-04-19T22:55:00.000-04:00

We spent twenty point playgroup in a local park today - YES - I had to pack my own lunch AND THERE WERE NO APPETIZERS. Anyway, I loved playing in streams as a child, and it was over 80 degrees, so I threw caution (and common sense) to the wind. The kids had a blast. That's Riley and Bella leading the river train - their friend is behind in the yellow boots, and while I wouldn't normally publish a photo of someone else's child, you can't actually see his face. Uh, I mean HER face. Yeah, uh, it's a she. Did I say he? Move along...there's nothing to see here!!

They put a TON of rum in those mojitos

2005-04-19T22:36:00.000-04:00

Vincent and I enjoyed an evening alone pretending to be in the Caribbean. Really we were at Bahama Breeze and the local Hilton, but it felt good just the same. Just look at those goofy grins.

You must have been a beautiful baby...

2005-04-19T22:34:00.000-04:00

I just love this picture. This is the face I see when I'm hovering just above Adelyn's face, ready to kiss her little nose.

The middle one's goofy too

2005-04-15T16:26:00.000-04:00

Bella is practicing the whole potty thing, and gets upset when she pees in her diaper and then there's nothing left for her to pee into the toilet. This happened just now, as it does three or four times a day (I am always just a bit late for everything too, so she must get it from me).

Bella is sitting on the toilet, clearly frustrated.

"Now I need batteries for my butt," she says, "to make more pee."

Friday morning weigh-in

2005-04-15T15:28:00.000-04:00

I'm down 14.6 pounds as of my weigh-in last night. Just another 20 or so before I fit into those pre-pregnancy size 6 khakis again.

You know, so I can get pregnant with the fourth.

Yeeeaaah.

That oldest one is goofy

2005-04-13T19:14:00.000-04:00

Tonight Riley sprayed water on Bella with the garden hose, which was unacceptable because it's like, 50 degrees. Anyway, I put him in time out outside and he cried because he thought we were going to leave him out there.

"You can't leave me out here! Because there's bats and other stuff out here!"

"Well, the bats gets hungry too", I quipped.

"You can't leave me out here! I'm a part of your family! And if the bats eat me, then my sisters won't even have a big brother anymore, and you won't even have me anymore. And I make funny jokes and stuff!"

Hmmm.

Yeah, I let him in. It is my anniversary and all - nine years.

Bella, well, I might have let her get eaten by bats. Recently, she's applied my nail polish to her lips (and her hands and feet, and the bedroom floor) and vanished at a live showing of Dora the Explorer (she decided to sit down next to the people three rows behind us - I actually had the security staff scouring the place before I found her).

We are waiting to see if Adelyn has actually acquired the Chicken Pox virus that was running rampant at a birthday party we went to last week, so if she's diseased, the bats might not eat her. But she is plump, and probably quite tasty.

If she does actually get chicken pox, it might prevent us from staying in our local Hilton this weekend for a much needed respite from the kids.

So, she probably has it.

Ah, but there is the anniversary carrot cake beckoning me from the dining room.

Weigh-in, shmay-in, I always say.

I'm still here!

2005-04-05T21:37:00.000-04:00

We have been sick here. Actually, I have been sick here, so nothing has been getting done around the house. Plus, my MBA husband has been preparing the taxes so I have been banished from the computer. My apologies.

Tonight was my first night working as a "behavior specialist." Don't laugh. I'm a specialist, really. In behavior. Like, of kids. Just not my kids, OK?

See, I have this MSW and now that I'm a SAHM, I'm making extra money working as a behavior specialist for kids with mental health problems. I'll let you know how it goes.

I really hope nobody gets here by googling "behavior specialist," but if I keep saying it, I'm just making it worse, aren't I? I'll stop now.

I was thinking, the other day while watching the pope being carried by some guys in tuxedos (how does one qualify as a pallbearer for the Pope, I ask you??), that I'm surprisingly glad that priests cannot marry. Who knew? But it was the first memorial service (yes, I know, the burial isn't until Friday but close enough) that the focus was not on a grieving widow or a toddler giving a salute on his birthday. Instead, the focus was on the holy figure of Pope John Paul II. Boy, I was definitely brought up Catholic because I was grooving the whole Gregorian Chant and Pomp and Circumstance thing. I think that the solemnity and holiness would be tarnished by a grieving family. Instead, the Catholic community is the grieving family, and I think that's how it should be.

Now, my husband thinks that priests should marry and that there just wouldn't be a married pope for a long time, and that's OK. He scoffed at the notion that priests would go into the service of God aspiring to be pope someday, but I think that why on earth would you want to be a priest if you didn't think that you could be pope someday? Or a bishop? Or cardinal? That's just silly. If you can be a priest, and be a holy servant to the Lord, than you should be able to be pope. Plus, I don't think marriage of priests has anything to do with sexual abuse in the church. Some pedophiles are married, after all. So let them actually be celibate, I'm cool with that.

But that's just me.

There has been no celibacy here, despite my being sick, and I've been enjoying that too. TMI, I'm sure, but what the fuck, it's my blog.

Hey, am I giddy because I just earned some actual money? Or because someone thinks I'm a specialist?

Caught me. I said I'd stop doing that.

I saw this really cool link thing regarding Adagio Teas, but that will give me a topic for another day. Suffice it to say that I love tea even more than Starbucks Caramel Macchiatos.

But for now, I must wallow in the fact that I am out of one point fudge bars (Twenty Point Playgroup was today, people!) and regroup for tomorrow's follow-up with Riley's pediatric urologist. I've had to tell Riley that we're going back so that the doctor can look at his penis and see what a good job he did, but that there will be no more cutting. He keeps repeating this to me as if to make sure that I'm not lying to him.

No more cutting baby, I promise. Doctors just like to gloat in their handiwork.

More "Bad Mommy"

2005-03-30T15:03:00.000-05:00

Speaking of Ayelet Waldman, this is hysterical. I wish I'd thought of it.

Boy, I hope she can take a joke. From her friend's accounts, the links of which I've long ago lost (Hours! It's been hours!), she is allegedly quite caring towards her children, and of course, suicidal and bipolar. Bad mix.

Your husband or your kids?

2005-03-29T20:30:00.000-05:00

Is it possible that people read this blog and not Julie's? I doubt it. But just in case, let me reiterate my thoughts on her discussion of the NY Times article (yes, you have to subscribe, but it's free) by Ayelet Waldman regarding her love for her husband over her children.

I am trying to see the light-hearted humor in this, but I think it's mostly profoundly sad. I absolutely adore my husband; I've known and loved him for 20 years. But we both love the kids with this intense protectiveness that we don't impose on each other.

Basically, I love him for being the kind of guy who can stick up for himself, even if I'd feel terrible if he was hurt by someone. I mean, he's a GROWN UP, for God's sake.

Riley, on the other hand, was treatly poorly by the some little boys when we first joined $100/Twenty Point playgroup and I wanted to run them over with the minivan. Seriously, I had to restrain myself. The little fuckers were mean. Guess you had to be there.

Anyway, maybe when they're older it will all even out, but really. I don't want to have sex with my kids, thank God (I used to investigate people like that for a living). My feelings for my husband are just different - not fiercely protective (like with my kids) and all-consuming (like it was when we were in high school). But there's still passion, and sex, and laughter.

Years ago, we had all of this and shared love of food, and cooking, and travel. We thought that those commonalities made us special, and we were thrilled to have each other to share in those joys. Now we have a shared love of our children, which is so much more infinite and intense than haute cuisine and the heat of the Carribean sun. We are consumed by them in a way that we'd never before experienced, and it makes our love for each other that much more exceptional.

Finally, when I think of losing my husband - a terrible terrible thought, unimagineable really - a large part of the horror has to do with taking care of three kids all by myself, and how much THEY would miss him, and how I could keep his memory alive for them.

But to lose a child? Someone once said - in a movie? I don't recall where...but they said that losing a child is so horrible that there isn't even a word to describe it - you're not orphaned - you're not widowed - it is unspeakable. And I just can't imagine someone being so flippant about it, even as terrible a thought of losing my husband would be. I just can't get past it and see the humor in her essay, because, well, I can't imagine saying or feeling such a thing with respect to my kids - even for poetic license.

Now I know this might sound harsh, but all of this shared enthusiasm of life that I have with my husband can be somewhat replaced if I were to lose him. I think he's my soul mate, I really truly do, but if I lost him I would still have friends to travel with and eat out at fancy restaurants. I could date again. I could have sex with another person, or even with my vibrator.

But my kids? You just don't replace that kind of relationship. Each one is unique and each one is mine. They were born mine - I didn't fall in love with them for who they are, because I'd love them even if they were serial killers. In some ways, I love them in spite of who they are, and I always will.

So what do you think? Am I being too sensitive? Have I lost my sense of humor? Do I need to get a babysitter more often?

2005-03-29T18:51:00.000-05:00

Adelyn and her Daddy at the Easter egg hunt.

2005-03-29T18:50:00.000-05:00

More Easter Sunday pictures!

2005-03-29T18:49:00.000-05:00

This one's not as sweet of Bella. She's having a tantrum because of conflicting feelings about having a picture taken. Mostly she woke up too early and then ate too much candy.

2005-03-29T18:36:00.000-05:00

Bella smiles in her pretty Easter dress at Great Grandma's Easter Sunday.

2005-03-29T18:07:00.000-05:00

Riley aka Batman aka Swamp Thing (notice the swimming Batman attire - with webbed hands that shoot water!) celebrates Easter at his Great Grandmother's house.