Archive for March, 2008
Spring break day #1
While technically J was on spring break last week as well, this is the first day of both of them being home for a week.
It’s 10:30 in the morning and I am considering selling them in front of the supermarket.
Nothing particularly naughty, just lots of yelling and shouting through their walkie-talkies, lots of demanding to be fed again, lots of arguing over who is “in charge.” Apparently I’m not in charge here and they’re going all Lord of the Flies on me figuring out who is.
Stanley Steemer was here this morning, cleaning the couches and getting that funky “WTF?” smell out of J’s room. Always nice when I’m given a window of 9-12 and they show up at 8:30. At least I was dressed. Hair was still wet and I was wearing the only boobarific shirt I own (no sweater on yet…and seriously, this is the only shirt I have that enhances what nursing took away from me). If I’d asked the younger guy what color eyes I had, I’m sure he would have said plaid. But J’s room doesn’t reek anymore, and you can only smell the couch if you stick your nose waaayyyy into the seat and inhale deeply and if you’re doing that in my house you need serious help, much more than my wine bottle can give.
I’m getting a sore throat and I have cramps to rival labor, thanks for asking.
On the bright side, both boys are going over to their best friends’ house this afternoon. So my dear friend is going to have 4 young boys in her house for a couple of hours today. I know she’s looking forward to it as much as I am, because when these four get together they play great and leave the adult alone. And tomorrow I’m taking the oldest while her youngest is at school. Again, peace for both of us. What will I do while they are gone? What will I do with the first “child free” hours I’ve had in over a week?
Work. Peacefully. Finally.
Get ready for my scrapbook retreat this weekend. Four glorious days with my dearest friends, away from stinky little boys (oh, I love on them so much when I get home; absence really does make the heart grow fonder), with good food and great drinks, a hottub, and no alarm clock. Up in the mountains. Really…heaven on earth. I think I’m at about T-minus 72 hours or so before I get the hell outta Dodge.
I will do all sorts of things that I can’t do with my kids hanging on me…like think. Plan. Set goals. Work towards the goals. Rejuvenate. All things that moms can’t really do with kids hanging on her.
I should really enjoy every quiet, solitary minute of the next 2 months, for both boys are out of school by the end of May. And then I’m sure Lord of the Flies will begin in earnest.
At least it wasn’t phone s.e.x.
What sweet faces. What innocence. What a crock.
Can you read the shirts? Allow me to assist.
A’s says It seemed like a good idea at the time and J’s says It’s my brother’s fault.
When they say a picture says a thousand words, they ain’t kidding. These two shirts describe our morning.
They had a sleepover last night; A slept in J’s room. They get those when they’ve been good…there will not be one this evening.
They got up at…wait for it…4:41 am, according to A. He is the one who woke up first, and then demanded company from his partner in crime. A said he was so excited about the beginning of spring break that he couldn’t sleep. No, we did not know they were up.
At 5:30 A came bounding into our room…
A: Dad! Dad! Mom! Dad! If we call right now we can get a Pancake Puff Pan!
Us: Blink…squint…huh? Wha’?
A: Pancake puffs! We can get it right now!
Tom: A, no. What are you doing up? Go back to bed! We are not getting a Pancake Puff Pan and certainly not in the middle of the night!
A: Ooookayyyy…(as he’s walking out of our room) Sorry, my mom and dad can’t come to the phone right now, they’re still sleeping.
Us: (sudden realization of what is happening, followed by immediate lucidity, and ending with an electric shock to the system) A! Are you on the phone? Get back in here!!!!!
A: Yeah… (gives the phone to Tom)
Tom: (barely awake but able to form words) H’lo? Uh-huh…No, we don’t want a Pancake Puff Pan…yes…sorry, we have an overzealous 6 year old here…yes…thank you ma’am…goodbye. A? Take this phone and put it back.
A: Ok…(leaves)
Me: I’m dreaming this, right? Our son didn’t just call the Pancake Puff 800 number at 5:30 in the morning, did he? This is a dream brought on by stress and a caffeine-free lifestyle, right?
Yes, my loverlies, my 6 year old called an 800 number this morning to order a Pancake Puff Pan, with his 3 year old brother as an accomplice. He was seduced by the siren call of Call Now! and Wait, There’s More! and the thought of round pancakes with whipped cream squished inside. I am only very thankful that he didn’t try to use his library card number to pay for it.
What child is this?
Tom and I are convinced that at some point during the last full moon the boys did some sort of Freaky Friday switcharoo. A is calm, cool, and collected. He is listening to instructions and following through on them. He doesn’t get lost going up to his room to get a pair of socks or something; he goes, gets them, and immediately returns. Usually, I’d go up after awhile and find him stark naked playing with Legos or something else completely random. Last night during the “witching hour” (aka, immediately after dinner, as Tom and I are trying to clean up the kitchen), instead of the running around like a madman with his brother following suit, they sat down and played Candy Land together. And then cleaned it up when asked. He’s going right to bed. He’s getting up before me, staying quiet so he doesn’t wake his brother, and gets himself breakfast. He’s like a different child.
In the meantime, J has decided to flirt with the terrible twos, four months before his fourth birthday. Nothing terribly out of control, and he’s certainly a LOT easier than his brother at that age, but J is considerably more ornery right now.
What’s changed?
I finally broke down and spent a left kidney to get A set up with everything he needs to do the listening therapy his OT recommended. I got him an iPod shuffle and the exact headphones (holy hell, they were expensive) he needed. And he’s been doing the listening therapy every morning for 20 minutes while he eats breakfast.
The difference is stunning. Almost frightening.
I don’t know how it works. I don’t know why it works. But it’s working. And I’ve been walking on eggshells, afraid it will stop working. This is how I felt when he first went on ADHD meds (he’s on the lowest dose possible; I credit the OT…hopefully we can wean him entirely in the next few years), and how I felt when I realized my thyroid meds were working. Tentatively hopeful, but waiting for the shoe to drop.
I talked to A’s OT yesterday after his session. She was not surprised that we were seeing such an astonishing difference. I am, though. Even though I know the brain works in mysterious ways (I’ve read about music and the brain and how music therapy can make a difference), I was truly skeptical about listening therapy working.
I was wrong. I am a changed woman. This thing works!
At the recommendation of A’s OT, this morning I sat J down for 10 minutes or so to do the listening therapy as well. She believes it’ll help him and his speech issues as well. I’m up for trying it, seeing as how we’re getting amazing results with A and that I’ve already laid out the kidney to get the gear.
A is on spring break next week, and with the increased time at home, I’ll increase his listening therapy to twice a day. I’m encouraged by the results we’ve already seen, and anxious to see how he improves in the future.
The brain is an amazing thing.
Have a great weekend.
So what's your GreenIQ?
I got this link from Karen at Pediascribe to test your GreenIQ.
Here’s what they had to say about my score:
Despite the fact that you scored just under or just over 50%, you have a relatively high GreenIQ. This means that you are very aware of your lifestyle and how it affects the planet, you also are working on reducing your carbon emissions through your transportation choices and home environment. But that doesn’t mean that you are even close to perfect or carbon neutral. You still have room for improvement. Our product suggestions and tips can help you increase your GreenIQ and even further reduce your carbon emissions.
Frankly, I’m surprised I scored that high. Many of the things I got credit for are things I just started doing in the last few months. And I know my score was affected by the fact that I have to drive everywhere, and I’m sure my score would be even lower if they asked “do you drive insane amounts to get your children to and from school?” I guess they evened each other out.
So go test yourself, post about how you did, and what you’re going to do to improve your score. Me? As I run out of things in the house (cleaners, shampoo, stuff like that), I’m replacing them with earth-friendly products. More expensive, yes, but these tend to be more concentrated so you use less anyway. And if I can’t pronounce the ingredients, they shouldn’t be in my house.
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Speaking of green…sorta…I’m going to scream. I just looked out the window where the landscapers have been working on the school’s land today. And.there.are.trees.behind.my.house. Ordinarily I’d be thrilled. Yay trees. But these trees are going to grow and freaking block my beautiful views of Longs Peak. Son.Of.A.$*&@#$@!!!!!!
Ok…double checked…unless these suckers are Redwoods, my view is safe. ; ) But, they are still a hazard…they are just little twigs planted in the ground and with the winds we get they could get airborne and cause harm. ‘Cause it’s all fun and games until someone gets impaled by a teeny tiny tree.
Oh, poo
I’m stuck at home with the boys today, not going anywhere. J is on spring break this week and next (and don’t even get me started on a preschooler having a 2 week spring break!) and A is home sick.
A is totally fine…except…
This morning he got up (we think around 5 or so) and made himself comfy on the couch (sigh…) with Honey Nut Cheerios and his Leapster.
And was on the receiving end of a raging case of diarrhea that came on so quickly and violently that he didn’t make it off the couch. And then stayed there. We discovered this at about 6:45 or so this morning.
So he’s home today, having a Mythbusters marathon. We can’t go anywhere because he needs to be dashing distance to a bathroom…not that having a bathroom nearby this morning made any difference.
Me? I’m stuck here with a to-do list as long as my arm and two little boys who have the gall to insist on being fed and entertained. It’s going to be a tv day for both of them today. Plus, I’m going to be fumigating my couch. Round one and it still smells like it was crapped upon. I’ll give it another round of the official sofa cleaner and then try the Bac-Out I got at Whole Foods the other day. It’s in a room that gets rather warm in the afternoon…I’d really like to get the scent out before it heats up in here. Ick. And then I’ll start scrubbing all touchable surfaces. No idea what A got into to give him such a tummy.
My poor friends in real life are probably going to be a bit wary sitting on my furniture now, including poor Denise, who’s coming over tomorrow for a playdate. Thankfully the couch is already brown. 
It’s shaping up to be a craptastic day…
No one is safe…
Dang it, what is going on? Do we have no privacy left? Go here…check for your name…sigh…stinkin’ Homeland Security…
Have a good weekend. Happy Easter!
Two things….
I was browsing through my wordpress dashboard and got to comments. It appears that there are quite a few comments that I haven’t received in my inbox. I generally reply to comments through email and usually reply to all comments. So if you haven’t gotten a reply from me in the last few days, I apologize, I never got the comment. Bleh.
It seems that I’m working under two different blog names out there in the blogosphere. Both Laughing at Chaos and Never a Dull Moment. I couldn’t get Never a Dull Moment with blogger or wordpress so went with the address laughingatchaos because that’s what I was using as my blog email address. So…should I change the name of my blog for consistency’s sake? Or should I just get a grip and worry about something important? : )
Thursday Thirteen: The toughest job you'll ever love
- Childbirth hurts. Um…duh! Despite this, women have been getting knocked up and poppin’ out kiddos forever. The old analogy of pulling your bottom lip over your head is not entirely accurate. Think more of…hmmm…being drawn and quartered by rabid bunny rabbits while a very large rubber hose is wrapped around your gut by pink elephants laughing at your
blood-curdling screamspaindiscomfort. Something like that. Drugs are good, but if Lil’ Elvis insists on coming fast and furious and you don’t get so much as a Tylenol (yes, I’m talking to you, J!), well…I feel your pain. - Ok. I know your husband is a wonderful man. Regardless, at some point during the delivery, you are going to want to wring his neck, scream at him to shut the absolute f*ck up, and hit him with an IV stand. And every single woman who has gone through childbirth will support you at your trial.
- Your husband is also an anesthesiologist. When the time comes that he clicks into “doctor” mode out of “incredibly supportive, would you like more ice chips because I love you so much and I know I did this to you-husband” mode, those same women would also testify that you were well within your rights to insist he have an enema administered right then and there.
- If, for some reason, nursing is difficult (and since it’s not something you’ve been practicing since you had boobs, it probably will be a little challenging), don’t despair. Make friends with the lactation consultant at the hospital. Insist you meet with her before you are discharged. Send her flowers. Bake her a cake. Give her a gift card for a pedicure. You want to be friends with this woman, for she is going to grab your tits and squeeze them and stretch them and do things you never heard of in health class (oh, and the whole lanolin thing? Skip it…my kids just slid right off; no fun for either of us). And, if for some reason, nursing just won’t work, it isn’t your fault. Sometimes that happens, that’s why formula was invented. Your job is simply to feed the child, somehow. Get food into him. A well-fed boy is a happy and sleeping boy. I speak from experience here. I so desperately wanted nursing to work and tried everything, when the best course for A would have been to just formula him from the start. My body couldn’t give him the nourishment he needed and he was hungry and crabby and miserable. Funny how he finally started to sleep through the night when he started on solid foods. Just remember it isn’t your fault.
- At some point in the first year of Lil’ Elvis’ life, you are going to want to divorce your husband at least once. I say this, not because I know any details of your marriage, but because every woman I’ve known has flipped to “attorneys” in the phone book at least once that first year. Before you drop-kick him to the curb, go out with a friend. Trust me.
- Once you’ve got the nursing thing down and can tipple again, join a wine of the month club…because you’re going to want the wine and you’re going to feel like Sleezy Mama of the Year if you go into a liquor store with a newborn. Don’t ask how I know this.
- And join Netflix if you haven’t already. I can’t remember the last grownup movie I saw in a theater. Oh…Pirates 3. Eh… That said, I can practically recite Cars.
- One word: Spanx.
- Get help. You will need/want/pray for help. I don’t know what kind of help you’re thinking of, but I’m thinking of someone coming to clean your house a few times a month. It’s something that I wish I had been able to do when my sons were born, but couldn’t. It’s something now I’m considering, but probably won’t go through with (I’m still hoping for those elusive extra hours in a day…). Hire someone to clean your house; you don’t want to take “baby is sleeping thankgod” time to clean, you want to sleep then.
- Find a playgroup/moms support group. Now, playgroups aren’t for the kids, they are for the moms, don’t let anyone tell you differently. Playgroups exist solely for moms so they don’t go batshit crazy staying home with the kids. You can get together with other moms, drink coffee, and share birth stories (BTW, those stories are the major topic of conversation until your kids start school; then it’s deconstructing the teachers). And moms’ groups exist so moms can get the heck out of the house without the children for a change (and for getting recommendations for babysitters). I recommend Mothers & More.
- It will get easier, I swear to the heavens above, it does get easier. He will sleep, he will sleep, he will sleep. I promise…and this is coming from someone who gets run through the wringer daily by her
demonicdarling cherubs. - After procuring a babysitter, get out of the house with your husband; it’ll prevent the inclination to drop-kick him to the curb.
- Finally, and this is one that I struggle with daily…you are not a failure as a mother if you do not absolutely love every.single.freaking.minute. of being a mom. Really, how much can you adore wiping up snot, changing another “holy hell, he exploded!!!” diaper, and picking up the Hot Wheels for the eleventy billionth time that day so no one dies stepping on them? It is the hardest job I’ve ever had and I will be completely honest here. There are days when I hate being a mom, there are days when I tolerate being a mom, and there are days when I’m content to be a mom. I rarely have days when I love everything about being a mom. And that’s ok. I think a lot of women feel this way, but few are willing to come clean about it. I adore my sons to the point of breathlessness, but being a mom is a tough, dirty, unappreciative job. It requires that you put yourself on the back burner indefinitely and you risk losing yourself there. At the very least, you get that disgusting “food skin” on top. Bleh. But you also get sweet smiles and kisses and tickles and “I love you”s and you can fart in public and blame it on the kids…not that I know anything about that. It’s all good. Just be sure to learn the words to all the fart songs. You are having a boy, after all.
So there ya go. Take it or leave it…just don’t leave me. ‘Cause I’m dying to kiss Lil’ Elvis. Ain’t nothin’ like boys.
What to write, what to write…
I fully intended to write a meaningful post yesterday about Senator Obama’s eloquent speech on race. And I never got around to it. Instead, I played with J in the afternoon, drawing on the driveway with new sidewalk chalk, and talking to my oldest friend, who is about to have her first child. A boy. I still laugh about that; she has no idea what’s about to hit. 
So instead of a meaningful post today on Senator Obama’s speech, allow me to direct you to Michelle’s post, which is eloquent and heartfelt and to the point (be sure to either watch the speech or read the transcript). The comments…some are great, some are idiotic. I’m proud to call Michelle a friend, though we’ve only met for about 60 seconds back in December.
So, today, I could write about my semi-fruitless attempts to find affordable summer activities for my sons. Really? Three hundred dollars for five half-days? I went away to sleepover camp for a full week for that! Are they panning for gold? Are they exploring space? ‘Cause that price is freaking ridiculous.
I could write about my success in finding the perfect blue jeans. Levi’s 529…curvy fit. And thank you, Levi’s, for calling them “curvy fit,” instead of “you have an awfully tiny waist for that big ass” fit. I appreciate it. And if I can find more in my size, I’m going to pile them all on the floor and roll around happily, for my quest has ended. Until Levi’s discontinues this style, which by my experience, will be next Tuesday.
I could write about the non-stop construction behind my house and how I’m about to start throwing rocks at the trucks because the rumbling and beepbeepbeeping is driving me batsnot crazy.
I could write about today’s sad anniversary of 5 freaking years of a stupid, nonsensical war brought on by lies and greed and how my family fears that my Army brother will end up in Iraq.
I could write about the book I just finished, but I’m still digesting it, so that’ll be another post for another day.
I could write about how I haven’t had a cup of coffee in almost 6 weeks and I swear, I’m gonna lose it. Peppermint tea just ain’t cuttin’ it for me.
I could write about all sorts of things today, but I won’t.
Kids say the darndest things…
This morning…
(Tom was shaving, clad only in his boxers)
A: Dad! You’re all hairy in your armpits!
Me: It’ll happen to you too, sweetheart.
A: Dad! You’re like a wooly mammoth!
He pauses to take a breath…
A: Mom? How old are you?
Me: I’m 34.
A: You’re so young! Like a little girl!
He leaves the room…
Me: Yes, Tom, you’re a wooly mammoth and I’m a little girl. How exactly did we get to this point, again?
