Winner Winner Picnic Dinner

Remember how I said I was a total failure at the whole dinner thing this week? Well, last night after Ben's and my haircuts I made us a picnic and we went to the park. Win win.

(just so we're clear, I'm aware that this is a grotesque picture of me. but Ben looks super cute, and I wanted to prove that Matt and I were actually there--I rarely post pictures of all of us.)

Life and Things

It's been over a week. My aunt is getting antsy without a post (she hasn't said anything, but I'm assuming...and since she lives in the south she could be blown away at any moment, so she could probably use a diversion).

We've been busy, I suppose. School is almost out (15 days, but who's counting?). The kids are losing it, and I might be too. The house is a mess because I haven't been feeling well. I tried to make dinner twice this week; one night I burned it, the other I just completely lost my energy, motivation, etc. as soon as I turned the oven on. I took Monday off because I was so sick all weekend. I still dropped B off at daycare and prepared to enjoy a luxurious day to myself. I went to Target to wander around and maybe get a few things. I decided to look at baskets because we got a lot of things for Emma at my work baby shower last week, and we don't have anywhere to put them. I came home with no baskets, a pair of baby pants, and the insane urge to nest. I rearranged a good portion of furniture, kitchen items, and the like. I made a huge mess, and after a couple of hours I ran out of energy and couldn't finish. I did find a place for the bottles, but not for the extra bed. Another day.

The other day I ripped off this tiny remaining piece of surgical glue that was still on Ben's forehead from his Mother's Day Adventure. The stuff was supposed to fall off on its own within 5-10 days, and most of it did, just not that one tiny little piece, and it had been 16 days and it was driving me crazy. I actually didn't even do it--I simply put my hand on his forehead and touched it and Ben screamed. He put me on time out. I asked for how long. He said, "40 years." Man. That's a long time.

But yesterday when we got home he told me I was his best friend, so I guess we're good. Then I did a sneak-attack and ripped off the glue. He looked shocked, mostly by the fact that it didn't hurt at all.

A couple of days ago I made some break-and-break cookies we'd purchased at Henry's on Sunday. I ate one and it tasted funny. Turns out they'd expired over a month ago. Um, that's bad.

I have a chest cold. It's making success as a teacher/wife/mother very elusive. I hope I feel better soon so my husband doesn't leave me for someone who actually does something other than lay on the couch and watch 16 and Pregnant. Speaking of which, did you see this week's episode? I wanted to punch that mom in the mouth.

Because most of you only look at my posts when there are pictures, I will offer a few from Ben's friend Hayden's birthday party this weekend.

Similes and Curtains

Two conversations: one from yesterday evening, one from this morning.

Ben: Look, Mommy! I'm hopping like a bunny!
Me: Amazing! That's a simile. Can you say simile?
Ben: No, you want to say simile.


Ben (wandering into my bedroom at 6:00 this morning): It's a sunny day, Mommy.
Me: No it's not. It's cloudy.
Ben (pointing to the window): No, it's sunny. Look'it. That's the sun. It's time to play?
Me: Nope. Too early. Why do you keep getting up so early?
Ben: I opened the curtains and looked and it's sunny.
Me: That's how you decide when to get up? You open the curtains?
Ben: It's a problem for me.


Well played, Benjamin. Well played.

The Perfect Storm

This is why people the world over laugh at and judge the citizens of Orange County.

" RAINFALL FROM THIS SECOND SYSTEM COULD RANGE FROM AROUND ONE QUARTER INCH AT THE COAST TO ONE HALF TO LOCALLY ONE INCH ON THE COASTAL MOUNTAIN SLOPES...THIS HAS SOME SIMILARITY TO A WEATHER SYSTEM THAT BROUGHT ABOUT ONE THIRD INCH OF RAINFALL TO LINDBERGH FIELD ON MAY 23RD AND 24TH 2008. THE STRONGEST STORM TO IMPACT SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA IN MAY IN RECENT YEARS WAS ON MAY 22ND 2006 WHEN MORE THAN THREE QUARTERS OF AN INCH OF RAINFALL WAS RECEIVED AT LINDBERGH FIELD."

A whole quarter inch of rain?!?!?! Should we cancel school? Close the roads?!?!? Why, God, Why?!?!?

Happy Friday the 13th

I finished BTSA this afternoon.

The husband and I are headed for Dana Point, sans child, for the weekend.

Happy Friday, Suckas.

Just for Fun

Chaos Is my Normal

It's been an interesting week. Last Thursday I whined my head off about how hard my life is, waaa waaa waaa.

God's response? "That's so cute."

Friday I was super impressed with myself. Thursday night I painted my toenails. Friday morning, I did not get up at 5:30 and clean the living room and bathroom as I'd planned. When the bell rang on Friday afternoon, I quickly finished the paragraph I was typing, then left, with my desk a mess and all kinds of things undone. Then I took Ben to McDonald's for dinner.

Ummm, hello?!?!? Breakthrough!?!?!

Except that as Ben and I were eating our french fries he threw up all over the place. Like a week's worth of food. And here's where my incredible fortitude and parenting skills came in: I was super calm, handled it, and did not blame myself and my decision to go to McDonald's. Thursday I would have. Thursday I would have said, "see what happens when you take shortcuts!?!?!" But I didn't say that. I told Ben it was no big deal, that I would clean it up, and that we should go watch some TV. That's right--extra TV. A couple of hours later Ben's babysitter texted and said that one of his daycare pals had gone home throwing up that afternoon. Confirmed: the barf was not fast food related, so there was no need to blame myself and go into a shame spiral. We took a bath, watched TV, cuddled, and went to bed. And I was totally cool the whole time. And I stayed that way when he threw up some more on Saturday. And then when the neighbors sat outside for 10 hours drinking their way through a case of Budweiser, getting progressively louder and cutting Ben's much-needed nap in half. And when Ben's puking became diarrhea.

Progress, people.

Of course, I felt bad about not doing my chores on Friday so I did them on Saturday.

No one's perfect.

But seriously, I was very impressed with myself for accepting the chaos. As Liz Lemon said on Thursday's episode of 30 Rock, "Chaos is my normal." I've embraced it. And it feels so good.

Today is Mother's Day. I was looking forward to letting Matthew work like a dog and pamper me and not feel a lick of guilt about it. It started out great. Ben woke up at 6:00, but whatever, it's fine. I was exhausted, but whatever. I'll live. I completely forgot to bring the Mother's Day gifts sitting on the kitchen table for my mom and grandma to the Mother's Day brunch. It's okay. They'll forgive me, and I'll deliver them later. No big deal.

Then when we got home, Ben sat down and quietly started playing with his cars, Matt laid on the couch with his iPod, and I sat at the computer to write a post about the blanket I just finished. Then there was a loud crash and a decent amount of screaming and blood. I will be honest--I don't really know what happened, and I feel pretty guilty about that. We were all three literally in the same room, so it's not like he was left unattended. But I wasn't actively looking at him while he played, and I really don't know what he did. He clearly hit his head on the side of the bookcase that holds his toys, but I'm not really sure how. He wasn't climbing it or anything--I would have noticed that, as I was really sitting right there. I'm thinking he somehow slipped. At any rate, there was screaming and blood. We did all the tricks I learned at first aid training, then headed to Urgent Care since it looked fairly deep and was still bleeding. Thankfully, there was no one there. I guess other people's kids were behaving themselves for Mother's Day. After we checked in and sat in the waiting room, I went to see whom to ask to push play on the DVD player (the TV was on the menu of Ratatouille...Kaiser, you are awesome for knowing the best way to keep a kid content at a medical facility), but they called Ben in before I even got to the front desk. He was traiged quickly and we were in a room within 20 minutes of his fall. Within another 30 minutes he was cleaned up, gash glued shut, popsicle and Buzz Lightyear sticker in hand. By the time we got home it had barely been an hour since the whole thing began. A Mother's Day miracle.

It has been a pretty crazy three days, between the puking and the sleep deprivation and the blood. But seriously, I'm good. There's definitely something to be said about motherhood making you strong. You go from bunny to ox faster than you can say "epidural, please." But I'm in. Because seriously, have you seen this kid's face? Even with the gash, he melts me. I'm like an ox that is also a bunny. A "box". And I've got another one coming in just a couple of months.

Epidural, please.

My Last Supper

My entire life, my mom has been working on a cross stitch of The Last Supper. My entire life. Something about how she went into a craft store when I was in a stroller and somehow emerged, having never done cross stitch in her life, with the mother of all cross stitch projects. When I was little we used to joke about her finishing it by my high school graduation. Then my college graduation. Now maybe Ben's. Or never.

I started this blanket last year for Ben's 2nd birthday. I'd made a trapezoidal blanket for him; like my first scarf technically it was awful, but the heart that went into it was golden (my mom got that first scarf--also a trapezoid--moms love your messed up crafts). But I wanted to make him a real blanket that was legitimately awesome. And I'd found this incredible yarn, and I had to make something amazing with it. For Ben's 2nd birthday. The yarn turned out to be insanely difficult to knit with, and I'd made up my own pattern using an insanely complicated stitch with multiple colors. It became my Last Supper. And it was starting to look like it would follow roughly the same timeline.

I finished it last night. Ben'll be 3 in two months. I don't know that I've ever been more proud of an accomplishment, maybe including the 25 hours I spent giving birth to him. Maybe.

It's a freaking work of art, if you ask me. And it's totally a rectangle, not a trapezoid.

Age is Relative

This conversation just happened:

Me (to Matt): I just need to go to Bath and Body Works for like ten minutes.
Ben: I don't want to go to Bath and Body Works. (To Matt) Do you want to go with her?
Me (laughing): Who are you? How old are you?
Ben: Two. (pause) You're five.
Matt: How old am I?
Ben: Two.

My Favorites

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. Tomorrow I will tell you all about why my mom is better than yours. But for my Mother's Day, my requests are to:

a) not change one single diaper
b) not prepare one single meal
c) not clean one single thing
d) spend time with my super awesome mom
e) spend time with the two boys that made me a mom
f) spend time a.l.o.n.e.

But that's not really what this post is about. I want to tell you my favorite things about motherhood. :)

1. My child. He is seriously so flipping awesome I can't believe I get to be his mom. Sure, he gets up at 5:30 every morning. I hate that. But he does it because he loves to snuggle with me in my bed, and I can't say I hate that part. I could go on for days about why he's the best, but I don't have that kind of time.

2. Snuggling.

3. Shopping. Now, I'm not a shopper. I'm not one of those women whose list of favorite things includes shoes, shopping, and manicures. It's not really a feminist statement--I simply do not enjoy them. But I love shopping for my kids (yep-- kids plural--crazy). I love buying them clothes, toys, and all of the other crap they need. I look at my registries for Emma every day because I love to look at the things I picked out for her. I want to buy all of them, and it's a struggle for me to wait. Not because I'm a woman and inherently love to spend money. But because I just really want to nest for her. And because I seriously can't wait until she's here, and maybe if I buy those sheets it will bring her closer to me. There is no logic--I just love it. I love all of Ben's clothes, and one of the best parts of my day is picking out his outfit. I prefer shopping for and dressing my children over shopping for and dressing myself.

4. The love. Oh the love. The love I have for my kids, the love they have for me--it fills me in ways that are unbelievable and indescribable. I know I had a good life before I was a mom, and sometimes I miss parts of it. And motherhood is easily the most emotionally, physically, and spiritually challenging thing I have ever done. But I can't imagine my life without my little ones, and I don't want to. Everything is infinitely better.

5. This face:

Happy Mother's Day to me. :)

Teacher Mother

I'm tired. Really really tired. It's Teacher Appreciation Week, and Mother's Day is Sunday, which would indicate that my usual level of service to the planet would abate a little. Funny.

I love being a teacher. I love being a mom. But sometimes being both at the same time is FREAKING HARD.

I've attempted to resume my old patterns in order to be less of a failure at the wife/mother/teacher combo. And with a good amount of success, I might add. The house is spotless; Matt's only had to cook three meals in two weeks; Ben is clean, well dressed, and happy; my students have their work back to them and graded within no more than 48 hours; progress reports are done; I've got half of next year all planned out;  we're making an extra $100 a month and my students are getting extra help because I volunteered to host homework club once a week; my classroom is clean and organized; the pantry and fridge are stocked; the bills are paid; and I'm right on track with my BTSA work. I'm doing it all.

Except that I am exhausted and feel a little bit like an empty shell of a person.

The house is spotless because I get up every morning at 5:30 to clean it. Ben is happy as a clam because I've let go of all my "free" time to be extra attentive to him. My classroom is a well-oiled machine because I live here a solid two hours a day more than I'm contracted to. Everything is beautiful and running smoothly around me because I've completely abandoned all efforts to save a piece of myself for myself. I look great pregnant because I haven't gained a solitary pound, mostly because I either forget to eat or Ben eats my food, and I burn too many calories because I never stop moving. I don't sleep super well because I'm really uncomfortable and Matt snores. Yesterday's blood tests came back with a big red anemia flag, which means it's time for iron, which means (please excuse the excess of information) my stress-induced constipation will not be getting better any time soon.

On Tuesday at my appointment my mid-wife told me I need to put myself in my "circle of care," or I will go into pre-term labor again. I told her I will make sure that happens, but I can't today because I have to do laundry when I get home, and do my blood work and go to the store first thing in the morning on my way to dropping Ben off at daycare and going to an all-day English teacher planning session. Thursday I have to work on BTSA while I teach, get progress reports done, do another round of laundry, go to a BTSA training, clean the bathroom, grade everything from when the sub was there on Wednesday, and play with Ben because it's been a while since I've seen him. State testing is next week, so I can't really take care of myself during that, then I have my final presentation for BTSA. So maybe I'll put my feet up two weeks from now.

Yesterday our English meeting got done a little early, and Ben was still napping at daycare. Someone suggested I go get a pedicure. It was really tempting, but I couldn't bring myself to spend $20 and 30 minutes on myself when I knew we needed toilet paper, paper towels, and kleenex from Costco, and every extra penny we have needs to go to the thousands of dollars in crap that babies need.

Sorry for all the whining. It's pretty lame of me to be complaining about the stresses of motherhood when so many have lost children or can't have them, and about the stresses of my job when so many have lost theirs. And it's lame to complain about anything when people around the world are legitimately suffering in ways I will probably never experience. But for the moment, all I can really think about is how for Teacher Appreciation Week and Mother's Day all I really want is to eat and pee and sleep alone and for as long as I want. And maybe to spend a night in a hotel room alone. Except I'd probably feel guilty about all the other things we need with that money and the fact that if I'm not doing my life someone else has to and that's not fair for them. So maybe just some Starbucks.

Life at 2 3/4

I show you loads of pictures of him, and I tell you about our (mis)adventures. But it's been a while since I've told you what the boy is like these days.

He loves to read. Loves it. We moved his books from the bedroom to the living room [phase one of the one-to-two child(ren) home conversion], and how he reads even more. He enjoys being read to, but he really really loves just pulling his books out one at a time and reading by himself. As if I ever needed a reason to love this kid more. He has memorized many of his favorites (not at all joking or exaggerating). The other day he wanted to read all of his books to Pretend Baby Emma, whom he adores and loves to play with. He frequently talks about how he's practicing for the Real Baby Emma, who is in my tummy. He loves to show her all his toys and share them with her (hahahaha...let's see how that holds up when the Real Baby Emma comes).

Days that we are home he spends reading, playing with his cars, and generally playing a lot like Andy from Toy Story (as in, taking random toys and putting on elaborate and complicated stories with them). He's obsessed with Backyardigans, and a solid half of each day is spent emulating them, although he typically just kicks off a session with a character and a song and turns it into something entirely his own, complete with costumes, soundtrack, and choreography. I love it. We don't really have costumes (seriously, who can afford $30 for a crappy pirate costume?), so he assembles outfits with eclectic things he finds around the house. Like his sun-hat, a pair of Matt's work shoes, a long hair ribbon or strand of yarn for a rope, and Matt's belt slung around his shoulder with a hammer in the buckle (cowboy). Often his Superman cape and rain boots are involved. He also loves fixing things with his Handy Manny tools, along with a few extra tools from the dollar bin at Target. He doesn't have a toolbelt, so for now he stuffs them in his pockets and uses his cowboy holster (Matt's belt) as a toolbelt. He gets attached to really strange things for a phase, like right now it's a little whisk he got in the dollar bin at Michael's.

He's very active. He loves to run, jump, and get dirty (except for his hands--he loves to get them dirty, but then immediately wants them clean). He loves to play outside. His favorite outdoor activities include sidwalk chalk (well, mostly handing me the chalk and telling me what to draw), bubbles, basketball, soccer (I think his favorite sport for the moment), baseball, and playing in the "jungle" (the neighbor's bushes--off limits, but he always tries). He also likes to take his big cars out there. Anything he does involves characters, singing, dancing, and elaborate story lines, often involving pirates, cowboys, and/or superheroes. He likes to ride his bike, except he doesn't like to pedal because it's "too slow". I try to encourage him to practice, which will make him faster, but he will have none of it. His friends have pedal-less "bikes," on which they go very fast. Any time they bring out their bikes, a battle ensues. We're saving up for one for his birthday, although we continue to encourage him to practice with his real bike.

His imagination is out of control, and he's way too clever for my liking. He can open and unlock anything, as well as construct ladders out of anything to reach anything. He has finally figured out that he can get out of his bed, and he does. Constantly. I can't remember the last time he slept past 6:30am, regardless of his bedtime, naptime, etc. He does not like to eat meals, only snacks (no need to question my parenting--we still sit him at the table for every meal, whether he eats or not). Sometimes I lie and call dinner a snack, because sometimes it works. He likes to pick his own pajamas, and randomly decides is doesn't like or is afraid of things he actually loves. He knows what and where everything is--Henry's, Target, Trader Joe's, the craft store, the mall, the park, my work, his babysitter's, our house. His favorite outings are the mall, the park, the beach, Disneyland, the zoo, and the aquarium.

He's VERY articulate. He talks like an adult, and it's hysterical and amazing. He uses everything--adjectives, adverbs (currently his favorites are probably, maybe, actually, really, and just), prepositional phrases, conjunctions--I'm so proud.

So that's our guy. He's amazing. In the time it took me to write this post, he read, put a puzzle together, donned a costume and played superhero, fixed things with his tools, organized his construction trucks,  skimmed through Alton Brown's cookbook, and played Peter Pan. Right now he's laying on the couch singing a song and playing with the box for the craft we tried (and failed) to make earlier this morning.

As Ben would say, "See you later, pard'ner!"