Spinning Yellow

From WhyMommy

I am here at BlogHer2007 because of WhyMommy from Toddler Planet who gave me her BlogHer pass.  I am honored to attend in her place.  I want everyone to click over to her post about IBC.  Everyone needs to know what is happening to her and why she is not here.  And they need to be aware of what I knew nothing about. A breast cancer that isn't about mammograms.  Something they never tell you about.  Please read it and pass it on, to any woman you love.  Your mom, sister, friend, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, aunt, daughter, cousin, wife, nanny, neighbor.  Everyone.

She is blogging and sharing her experience.  She is informing people.  She is saving people.

Thank you WhyMommy. 

And thank you, readers, for passing it on.

My Nightmares

I had a nightmare last night that my brother died.  It was horrible.  I know why I had this dream.  It is because I was reading blogs late last night and I came across the most recent post by Erin from Manic Mommies.  I was shocked and saddened to hear about her sister.  I don't know Erin personally, but I am a big fan of the Manic Mommies podcast and I have exchanged e-mails with the ladies especially surrounding the Wii they gave me.  I feel like I know them, though, because I listen to them regularly.  Sort of the same way I felt about Katie Couric as I watched her everyday for years while I got dressed and ate my breakfast.  Clearly I have much more in common with Erin and Kristin.

I have also been thinking a lot about siblings lately.  How my children interact.  How my siblings and I got along as children and now as grown-ups.  About my cousin, who we just visited, who is an only child but very much like another sister to me.  She now has two children of her own and seems to be handling their sibling interaction better than I do with my kids.

And, of course, there is the nagging feeling (okay, obsession) of mine about whether we should have another child.  This problem I have with not being able to make a decision is weighing heavily on me.  I know I have talked about this before and I have so many reservations, but I also still have this gut feeling that I will regret not having another.

Then I saw this post by This Mom and felt such grief for her.  And wouldn't you know it, the same day, I saw this post by MotherGooseMouse.  I felt happy for her and, I have to admit, slightly jealous.  She has openly stated many times that she didn't want any more children.  I wish I was the kind of person who could just let things happen, but I am not.  I think, think, think.  And plan.  And think and plan some more. 

And it really is ridiculous for me to even consider another child given my fragile state of mind lately.  And our lack of money and stability.  And here's one of the worst parts; I realized that the times I really lose it with Scott are when he does stuff to Jane.  I know I shouldn't get involved but I find myself reprimanding him time and time again.  Is it the little sister in my sticking up for Jane?  Is it my rules player self that can't seem to just let things play out but has to solve, rectify, fix all incidents?  Is it that I don't really trust Scott, even though, most of the time, he is harmless, just being an annoying brother?  Is it that I am trying to live up to other people's expectations for how I should be disciplining my children?

If I can barely handle the two of them, why on earth would I consider having another?

Because I was the last of three.  Because I am worried that only two kids won't make our family feel full enough.  Because I don't want to admit that I am not capable.  That, as annoying as it can be, I am not sure I want this phase of my life to be over.  That Scott will be in school all day next year and I will feel that our house is empty.  That I have become used to being a mom, almost comfortable, finally, with this role as it is.  That I am getting pretty good at this and maybe, next time, I'll be the great mom I know I can be (shitty reason, I know, having kids is not about proving my competence, but, hey, it's my blog and if I can't tell the truth here, then where?)  Because having more siblings is fun for the kids.  That they will need each other when they get older.

What if something happens to one of them?  I have friends who have had siblings die, tragically, when they are young.  One friend's younger brother died suddenly when he was 25.  Now she is an only child as an adult.  Of course the flip side to this is that whenever you have another child you run the risk of having a child with problems of one sort or another.  I also have a friend who's third child has a severe brain disorder, so bad that her baby cannot even eat on her own.  I am almost 40, not too old, but definitely upping the risk factor.  Anything can happen, that is for sure.

When I was growing up I always feared that my brother would die.  He was the golden child.  My mother would do anything for him and always made excuses for any of his bad behavior.  He could be reckless and I worried that something would happen to him and not only would I miss him, I idolized him (still do, yeah, he reads this blog), but I also feared that my mother would never recover.  This nightmare of mine is one I have played out in my mind before.  How sad everyone would be and how difficult it would be to move on.  I am prone to crazy, vivid dreams, sometimes so realistic it is terrifying.

Time Magazine had a cover story last year about the fascinating study of how siblings affect who we are.  New research shows that your siblings may impact you more than your parents.  Wow.  All that fighting and playing, negotiating and blaming, all those shared experiences and time together.  It adds up big time.  Maybe that is part of why I want my kids to get along so badly.  That and my sanity.

So I want to just let this go, this nagging feeling of possible regret.  I want to move on and come to the calm realization that this family I have is good enough.  That I will have more time for each of them and feel less frazzled.  We won't need a minivan and we will be able to go to Disney World.  The days of breastfeeding and naps are behind us.  That Matt and are so lucky and fortunate for what we have, there is no reason to want more.

And yet.  I have had several opportunities to unload my baby items.  The most recent time is to Scott's OT who is about to have her first child, a boy.  When we were there last week I brought a pack and play.  I could have brought a house full of stuff.  I couldn't bring myself to give the stuff away.  It sits in our basement and in my mom's basement, collecting dust.  Strollers and high chairs, toys and clothes.

Of course she has all new things that now fill up her house and bring back memories for me.  Did you know that pack and plays now come with remote controls and music boxes that can be attached?  How clever.  In the past I have seen pregnant woman and thought, thank goodness that's not me.  I hated being pregnant.  And, it took me the better part of two years to adjust to having two children.  I was good with one but fell off the deep end trying to manage two.  Between the guilt and different phases, it was way more than I could handle. 

But that is all in the past now.  As one of my friends who has three children said right before her third was born:  I've experienced one child, two children, a girl and a boy.  I feel that I am prepared for whatever comes next.  Or am I?  Oh, and I haven't even mentioned how Matt feels.  He has waffled on this issue but always comes back to our poor financially situation.  He feels (as men do) that it would be irresponsible to add another child.  But I know that if I was sure, with no doubts, he would probably concede.  The thing is, I am, obviously, so not sure.

The indecision is it's own nightmare.  Clouding my vision and flooding my head.  Making me feel that I need to wake up and get going.  One way or the other.  And put this nightmare to rest.

My Mother-In-Law, Survivor

I almost titled this "My Mother In Law Has Cancer", but I didn't want the cancer to define her.  I hesitate to even say "Survivor" but a blogosphere person, who just found out  she has cancer, is looking for inspiration.  And the survivor that I think of is my very own MIL. 

So when I say my MIL has cancer, I mean, had, technically, I guess.  But not just once or even twice, but many times.  In her breast, then her colon, and her lung and then her breast again and well, lots of cancer.  Cancer that first appeared many years before I knew her and then most of it over the past eight years that she and I have become family.

Cancer that has completely changed her life.  Cancer that has sent her to the hospital countless times.  Cancer that has required her to endure major surgery, over and over.  Cancer that took away a big part of her colon and now both of her breasts.  Cancer that has made her so sick all she can do is lie on the sofa and wish the hours away.

When I first met my MIL, shortly after I met my husband, she seemed healthy and vibrant.  Within months, just as Matt and I were getting engaged, she found out that she had colon cancer.  I didn't know her very well then.  I felt for her, but I was concerned about my fiance.  I didn't understand the magnitude of what she was going through, nor can I really comprehend it now.

Obviously, I didn't want her to die, nor did I want her to suffer.  But that's long before I knew her like I do now.  Like a friend.  I would say, like a mom, since I know that's what you are supposed to say about your MIL.  But I don't see her that way.

My mom is right here, two blocks away.  I talk to her all the time.  She knows me well, but will always regard me as the child she gave birth to and raised.  How could she not?  But my MIL didn't know me when I was young.  She wasn't there to experience a lifetime of me.  She has no feelings of regret or frustration with who I am or what I have done.  She just knows me as the person who married her son and is the mother of her grandchildren.

When people complain about their MILs, how they butt in and take their husband's side.  I shake my head, not so with me.  And then they say, but she tries to be my mom.  Again, not my MIL.  She is her own person and regards me the same way.  I do not feel that she talks down to me in any way.  There is mutual respect and from me, without a doubt, admiration.

My MIL dropped out of college to have a family.  Her own mother died young and she has had many obstacles along the way.  But after the colon cancer surgery and subsequent grueling chemo and radiation, she is every bit a survivor.  She decided to go back to school and pursue her dream of getting a college degree.

Always the smartest person in the room, it was hard to believe that she could have possibly not finished college.  So, while she would get scans and check ups, she went to school.  Earning first her undergraduate and now, in May 2007, a Masters degree.  She excelled in college in every way.  Receiving top marks and recognition for outstanding work.  And through it all she continued to battle cancer.

As a result of her initial colon cancer surgery, she had scar tissue that would cause her to get a "blockage" which would mean she had to stay in a hospital for days, in horrible pain, until it passed.  She always completed her required school work.  She had to have more surgery to correct the situation, then had cancer removed from her lung.  And just before the start of this year, she found out that she had breast cancer.

While getting a double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery, she completed her Masters Degree (with Honors).  Nothing was going to stop her from pursuing her goal and living her life.  She is an expert on cancer.  She researched and knows as much as a patient can.

Not long ago, I told her that she was such a great resource for cancer patients.  She surprised me by saying that, although she is happy to help (and she is involved in many ways), she also didn't really want to be a poster child for cancer.  That sometimes she is sad and scared and overwhelmed just like all other people who have or have had cancer.  That she didn't want people to be frightened by her multiple bouts of cancer and recurrences.  She didn't want their pity.  She didn't want them to look at her and fear the worst.   That she was tired and weary of always having to be strong.  That she knows she will always be fighting this disease.  It has been difficult and terrifying.  It still is.

And I think she was also trying to say that she didn't want the cancer to define her.  And it hasn't.  It has made her better.  It is part of her.  And even though she and I do not share any blood, the cancer is now part of me, too.  Because I see how someone can live through it and with it and despite of it. 

I will always be inspired by her courage, her steadfastness, her strong will, her openness.  And I am grateful that she is my MIL and my friend.

I have been meaning to write this post (what else is new?) and was inspired to put other tasks aside for a fellow blogger, Whymommy, from Toddler Planet, who won a pass to BlogHer 2007 and now can't go.  You see, she just found out she has breast cancer and needs to start treatment right away.  I hope this helps to give her a little bit of encouragement.

Summertime and the Living is Easy

What??  Not around here that's for sure.  Our kids are driving us crazy and it is not even officially summer.  I know I am supposed to love summer.  All relaxed and free wheeling.  Lots of fun in the sun and at the pool.  Truth is, I'm not really a summertime type of person.  It is too hot and there's no routine.  I prefer fall with school and football.  Warm days, cool nights, little rain, and beautiful foliage.  And school.  I like when there is school.

When I was a teenager I loved summer with hot nights and nowhere to go in the morning.  As a grown-up, summer meant over-air conditioned offices and no vacation.  As a parent, summer means sunscreen and not enough school.  I mentioned how much I like school, right?  And when, for crying out loud, is someone going to invent a sunscreen pill or something like the Topspot medicine for pets that spreads over their skin?  Applying sunscreen is THE biggest hassle, especially when you have a kid who hates it like Scott does.

Today was our first trip to the community pool of the season.  It took an hour to get everyone dressed and lathered up with sun screen.  Which Scott turns into a major battle every time we have to do it which is every day now.  I couldn't find my pool bag with the tags and Scott's goggles.  The kids whined and fought and got in trouble the whole time (make that the whole day).  At the pool, Scott whimpered about not wanting to put his head under water.  That swimmer's ear episode last year ruined it for him.  Jane thinks she can swim, but can't yet so ended up with a mouthful of water.  I had to change her in the locker room, because, as you all know, she is sill not potty trained.

They whined for Daddy when he took a 15 minute break to swim laps and then whined for me as I sat on the side of the pool.  When we left to get lunch, they begged to go to the playground.  I reminded them that we will be there everyday for 8 weeks, but they were so excited to check it out all new for the year.  As luck would have it, the GD ice cream truck pulled up just as we were headed to our car.  I want ice cream!!  Jane yelled for the next several hours.

We couldn't decide where to get lunch.  Jane - I want McDonalds.  Scott - No! I don't.  Dad - Where do you want to go?  Me- Where do you want to go?  AHHH!!!  We finally went to a little restaurant/catering place nearby.  Scott - I don't like it here, it's dirty and yucky.  Jane was practically falling asleep.  It took forever for the lady, the only person there, to make our sandwiches.  Scott's took longer because he wanted a cheeses steak (on a 90 degree day), which he said was yummy after the first bite and then said he was full.  Jane just wanted the chips and the chocolate milk.  The lunch for the four of us cost $35.00.

When we got home, Jane whined some more and Scott complained.  Scott was angry and short tempered.   He wouldn't leave Jane alone.  They yelled and pushed each other.  Matt and I were tired and each had to take showers.  Then it started pouring so we had to come up with a new plan for dinner besides grilling.  Scott got sent to his room at least 3 tines for hitting Jane or talking back.  Our kids never stop talking.  Actually, it is Scott who never shuts up.  He calls for me, asks questions and just makes noise, loudly, constantly.  We keep telling him to turn down the volume.  His engine isn't just running high, it is in over-drive.

Scott pitched a fit because I exchanged a 5 dollar bill for change from his piggy bank since I am running low on quarters (parking meters and the tooth fairy are using them all).  I thought he would want to do the math himself, no problem there, of course, 20 quarters, right, Mom?  But he didn't care about that.  I guess he was attached to the actual coins, not just the amount of money.  Or he just wants to be mad about everything.

Jane doesn't get enough sleep because she isn't napping and goes to bed too late.  She is perpetually overtired and cranky.  She interrupted my shower every two minutes to ask for something.  Go find Daddy, I told her.  No!  I want YOU!!  Everyone was super tired from going to bed so late the night before when we had a thunder storm and the lights went out.  Jane screamed and cried about not finding something so Matt had to lie down next to her to get her to sleep.

I need to do heavy work activities with Scott, I need to potty train Jane, I need to re-read Siblings Without Rivalry, I need to get a job and send them to camp, I need to drink more, I need a vacation.

Oh, yeah, I'm really looking forward to summer break.  Start the count down now until September when I will be griping about getting ready for Christmas and putting on snow clothes.

Memorial Day and Family Traditions

I live in a small town.  The same town that I grew up in (for the most part, from 8 years old on).  It's not like I never left.  I did go away to college and I lived elsewhere after graduation.  But even though most people can't wait to get away from the place where they grew up, I knew I would ultimately end up back here.  I love it here.  Because lots of memories were made here.  And because most of my family still lives here.

I LOVE my family.  To the depths of my heart.  Not just the one I created by marrying my husband and having children (and those family members I've now acquired through that union - I will write about them another time), but the one that created me.  My parents, my brother, my sister, my cousin (who is like a sister) and her parents, too.  I adore them.  And I mean that very sincerely. 

They piss me off sometimes and I disagree with them often.  But, mostly, I laugh with them and spend time together and am forever grateful to have them in my life and so close by.  I joke about how much we see my family.  Matt sometimes feels claustrophobic when we attend yet another Country Club Fourth of July celebration.  But he calls my dad all the time to come over and help him with house projects.  And my mom is ready to watch the kids at the first phone call.  It means so much to me that my kids know their grandparents so well.

I can write plenty about stuff that happened when I was a kid.  Good and bad.  Like when my sister used to tell me that mom and dad had the perfect family with a boy and a girl, until I was born.  Or how she and I would stay up all night playing monopoly and have to push the board under the bed to save it for another day.  Watching my brother play sports and having crushes on his friends.  When they had a party when my parents were away and made me help them clean up the next day (before they'd drive me to church) and swore me to secrecy.  All experiences that are part of who I am. 

In case it has seemed different from some of the post I've written so far, I want to be clear that I do not want to make anyone upset.  Having a blog is like chatting with a friend, gossiping and therapy at the same time.  So the positive and negative are intertwined.  So is life.

This is a perfect little small town.  Close enough to a big city, but far enough away to have all it's own unique stuff.  It is rich in culture and history.  It has great schools, good sports programs, and, of course, lots of traditional activities.  Like the annual Memorial Day parade.  The same one I marched in as a clarinet player in my junior high band and twirled baton in for my high school.  Every year we meet up with my sister and watch the parade together.

This is where my niece peed on the floor of Starbucks when she couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.  Where my nephew yelled out "Hey, isn't that the baseball coach you hate" when the teams walked by.  Where my nephew said he wanted to play the flute and when we told him boys don't play the flute, a rare male flutist happened to be right in front of us.  Where Scott cried when the guns went off when he was a baby.  Where the cousins have waved their little flags and scrambled to pick up the candy thrown from parade marchers.  Where my sister and I critique the bands, deciding which is the best each year.

I am so happy to be here and to spend this time with my family of origin and with my nuclear family that I am now the center of.  I know that when my children are older they too will see the significance of family.  How they shape us and nurture us and makes us angry and proud.  I know they will feel their hearts swell too remembering all the things we've done together.

In our small town this Memorial Day we are especially sad.  Two of our own were recently killed in the war.  There were signs and memorials set out for these soldiers.  My mom and I attempted to explain the significance of this and to help Scott understand why there are wars and people die.  It is not easy to explain something you do not understand yourself.

I am so deeply sorry for the families of these servicemen.  Their loss is as painful as it gets.  Knowing that their family traditions will never include these people again is heartbreaking.  The irony of having a family to make memories with at a time when we honor those that fought and died for us did not go unnoticed for me today. 

I have never been more grateful to have those that I love so close.  I am forever in debt to those that have sacrificed their lives and potential memories to make that possible for me and my family.

Can Wii All Play?

We gave Scott the Wii for his birthday.  He opened it up in front of everyone and my 9 year old nephew knew what it was immediately.  "You got a Wii, Scott!"  I quickly felt the need to qualify, "I won it, you know.  I didn't buy it."  My sister pointed out that my nephew has been saving his money for a Wii.  He wants one so badly that he is willing to sell his Game Cube and Nintendo handheld thingie for one.  I immediately felt guilty for winning it.  "I won it by entering a contest that the Manic Mommies had, a podcast I listen to."  Silence from the crowd of my parents, Matt's parents, my sister and her family and us.

Then, "Well, Mommy, can't you enter the contest and win one, too?" from my nephew.  "The contest is over, they only gave away this one."  My sister added, "I don't have time to listen to podcasts and enter contest anyway.  I'm not home all day like Aunt Lori is."

What??

In case you haven't figured it out yet, the Mommy Wars are going on right here in my own little family circle.

"The podcast is for working mothers done by working mothers."  I start to explain and then I realize it is useless to try.  Even Scott looks a little confused, like should he be happy about this or should he feel bad for his cousin?  "Can't you win one for them, too?" he asks.

The trouble with winning things is that people get jealous.  I don't like having people upset over something I got or have that they do not.  Especially something I didn't even want that badly to begin with.  I will never truly be over when my parents won the lottery and I saw the negative reaction some people had.  A teacher of mine even asked me to marry him, as a joke, in front of the whole class.  I was 15.  One of my friends said she was happy for us, but that her family really needed the money, not ours.

We didn't have time to break out the Wii at the party, but we tried it out the next day.  It is super easy to set up and get started. After I noticed Scott inching forward with each tennis swing, I put a few pillows in front of the TV so that he wouldn't get too close.  He caught on right away.   Actually, I am surprised at how easy it is to play.  Even I can hit a tennis ball in this game!  And Scott's OT approves (in moderation, of course).

We had our first Wii injury that day.  Matt was playing tennis with Scott when he hit his hand on the basement ceiling.  Ouch.  At least no one broke anything.  Yet.  I can see why people have accidentally flung their controller at their TV!

We took the Wii over to my parent's house for my father's birthday party.  My dad could barely watch as the kids played in front of his big HD TV.  He kept yelling at them to make sure the wrist strap was on tight.  Then he told them to play in a different room, which no one did.  And, as is true to his personality, he judged everyone's form and subsequent success or failure with each play they made.  "Put your arm up!  You swung too late!"  Talk about taking the fun out of it.

What is good about the Wii is the same thing that is bad.  It is interactive and is more fun with multiple people.  You can have as much fun watching as you can playing.  So it is great for a group, but not as fun for one six year old who plays in the basement.  As in, "Mommy, please play with me."  At least when he plays on the computer I know he is occupied and is not looking for me.  And if I am going to play with him, I would rather play cards or Chinese Checkers or just go outside.  If you don't like to play sports, you probably aren't going to like playing them with the Wii either.

But, boy did the kids have fun when they played together.  I know it will get a lot of use in the winter when you can't play baseball outside.  And I know one kid for sure that will play with Scott whenever he wants him to.  His cousin. 

As long as Scott gets to play the last turn.

Oh, and he always wins, of course.

We could just send him over to my sister's house with the Wii.  Maybe she didn't win it, but we'd rather play with them than against them.

Special thanks again to the Manic Mommies for the Wii and also for the Yes to Carrots products (which I gave to my sister, not being a product girl myself).

 

They Play on the Beaches, the Color of Peaches...

We went to Bermuda and I never did see a pink beach.  That's because I stayed at the resort, for the most part, not venturing out farther on the island where the famous sand is located.  At our hotel it appeared that the beach was manufactured, brought in from someplace else, the color of sand from New Jersey or North Carolina.  No problem, though, it was still beautiful.  The water was a fabulous turquoise color and the weather was perfect for most of the time we were there.

Here are some notes from the trip.

Do kids always get sick before or during vacation?
The day before we left Scott seemed sick saying that his head hurt and he was tired.  This is typically what happens when he has a fever and sure enough he felt super warm.  He was fine the next morning as we headed out, but now it was Jane's turn.  On the way to the airport she started coughing.  So much so that we almost pulled over to give her an emergency nebulizer treatment.  By the time we arrived in the long term parking lot, which was several miles away from the airport, she had stopped.  We still repacked the nebulizer in a carry-on bag (Scott's backpack, he's strong, right?) and hoped we wouldn't have to use it until we got to Bermuda.

Look, even the baby has to take off her shoes!
The whole check-in and security check is in no way convenient.  Especially for those with small children and who do not travel much.  I was prepared to take Jane out of the stroller and knew that all our shoes would have to come off.  A woman behind us started laughing when she saw Jane's little purple Crocs up on the conveyor belt, realizing the absurdity of it all.

Are you prepared to fly without your husband?
After we trekked out to the farthest gate and got something to eat, the plane started boarding.  I suddenly realized that I did not have my backpack.  I had all our passports and important items with me in a separate pouch, but the backpack was my carry-on bag.  Matt concluded that I must have left it at the security check-in and went off to retrieve it.  Once it looked like everyone had boarded the plane, I went up to the gate to explain the situation.  I told them I was sure he'd be along any minute, he's an Ironman I explained.  Scott started to panic when the gate check woman made the above statement.  So helpful.  Just as they were calling for final boarding the other gate checker said, "There he is!".   Sure enough, Matt was running toward the gate with my backpack on his arm.  It was like a scene from a movie.  My hero.  I even let him sit on the plane by himself while I sat between the two children.

But we don't have carseats!!
Scott is a rules player.  This is a good thing when you want your child to do what is right, but when you need them to be flexible, good luck!  I have always been a rules player myself, so I understand where he is coming from.  Try explaining to a six year old why it is OK this time to ride in the taxi without carseats and even seatbelts!  Also, how about why it is alright to lie and say you are 4 instead of 6 in order to ride the bus for free.  Not worth the few bucks we would have saved.  He just couldn't understand it.  But I AM six he kept saying.

Is every meal going to take 2 1/2 hours?
Fortunately, no.  Only the first dinner did.  It was mostly fine as kids behaved and everyone was happy to be together.  Except for this comment:

Well, she should be potty trained by now.
From my sister, who thinks I am a child coddling SAHM and can't seem to stop herself from making snippy comments about what she thinks I am doing wrong.  Seems to me that her first wasn't potty trained when he was 3 either, but I promised myself I would not fuel this argument.

Scott, would you dance with me?
My niece, who is 6 months younger than Scott, can be quite the handful.  She is a little bratty, but also  a character.  In the past, she and Scott have sparred a lot, but on this trip they got along great.  They invented games at the beach and chased bubbles together on the lawn.  And they even danced together.  One time in front of the whole dining room.  They were the hit of Carribbean night, twirling each other around and bowing at the end of their routine.

Do you ever get ten minutes of peace?
My sister-in-law, who does not have kids, asked me this while we were at the aquarium.  I replied that that is why I let them watch TV.  I couldn't help myself, because I know she thinks they watch too much TV and also play too many computer games.  That was a point of contention on a different family trip.  Funny thing is that when she said this I didn't even notice that my kids were being demanding.  I guess I am just so used to hearing "Mommy!!" 10 million times a day that it doesn't even phase me.

Maybe I'll run tomorrow.
Or not at all.  There wasn't any place to run anyway.  And besides that, running would have interfered with my rum swizzle drinking.

I have to go potty, NOW!
You have to hand it to Scott.  For a kid who didn't poop during the daylight for years, he is now a pooping champ.  Going in the airplane bathroom, in the skanky beach restroom, wherever and when ever he needs to.  Just don't ask him to wait a few minutes to get to a more convenient or cleaner spot.

Oh, Cabana Boy!
I knew my husband had worked at a beach club in New Jersey when he was a teenager, but  I didn't realize this made him an expert umbrella setter-upper.  How handy.

Mom has the fraternity paddle!
This was from my brother who used to get "paddled" when he was a kid.  One day when we were young, the paddle mysteriously disappeared.  My father always blamed my brother and my sister and I assumed that my brother got rid of it (thank goodness).  Turns out my mother actually stole it away (to protect her precious son).  My brother just discovered this and couldn't get over the fact that he had been falsely accused for all these years.

It costs how much for a little sand bucket?
I had wisely thought to bring a beach bag and two beach balls (I learned that trick from the Manic Mommies travel show), but I did not bring beach toys.  The gifts shop had a few super expensive ones.  We brought them home with us and are now using them as flower pots.

But I'm not tired.
That was Matt, not the kids, on our last night of all sleeping together in one room.  To my mom's defense, this wasn't her plan.  She thought our rooms would all be together and the kids would sleep in one room, leaving each adult couple alone.  No such chance.  I didn't mind since it was only a few days, but Matt really didn't like having to share a bed with Scott and all going to sleep at 9pm.  We got a tiny crib for Jane the first two nights then upgraded her to a cot since she couldn't even stretch her legs out in the portable crib.  I couldn't stop myself from laughing as I tried to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to everyone before we all went to sleep.  Yeah, WAY too much togetherness.

She wouldn't last very long at our house.
My brother and sister-in-law were clear that they felt my niece was in serious need of some discipline.  It was kind of funny to watch them react to the things she tried to pull.  When I got home I stumbled across this quote in the newspaper, "The best way to discipline a child is to not be it's parent."  So true.  I think my niece knows how to play her parents just like all clever kids know how to do.  At the same time I think it is much easier to tell someone else what they should be doing than actually being the one doing it.

This is the plane to Newark, honey, don't even think about New York or you'll get all confused.
Said the oh-so-helpful gate checker in Bermuda when I tried to figure out which gate was the one to New York.  There were 3 planes leaving at the same time, 2 to NY and 1 to Newark.  I do know the difference between the two cities, thank you very much.  Maybe you are the one who is confused.

Oh, you mean I actually have to prepare, cook, and clean up meals again?
I sure could get used to having a full course breakfast and dinner prepared for me each day.  I would NEVER tire of that.

If vacations are supposed to be so good for you, how come I am always so exhausted and crabby before and after?
Enough said.

We're Back!

It's true.  We made it down to Bermuda and back all together and we are fine!  My mother's trip, that she planned for a year, turned out pretty much the way I expected. 

There was fun in the sand and at the pool.  There was a lot of eating and drinking.  There was way too much togetherness.  There were snippy comments about each other's kids and how we are not parenting correctly.   There was lugging stuff around and disorder and chaos.  There were adorable sibling and cousin moments. There were funny, good times; wonderful memories made.  Details to follow.

But first, the aftermath.  When we arrived home on Tuesday late in the day, I knew I wouldn't be able to make it to Running Class.  Matt had to mow the lawn and the kids were starving with nothing to eat in the house.  Everyone was exhausted and just plain sick of each other.  I think we were all pretty happy to be in our own beds and in separate bedrooms again.

Wednesday was spent first running, in an attempt to get back on the wagon after a week of no formal exercise.  Then it was laundry, cleaning the car, scrubbing down all items that were used during the trip or touched afterwards before  proper hand washing had occurred.   Matt asked what put me over the edge when he saw me on my hands and knees dunking items into a soapy wash pail.  "Was it the cockroach crawling across the hotel room the last day?"  "No, it was the stupid soft pretzels you gave the kids on the ride home that they ate with filthy dirty hands and got salt and crumbs every where."  Well, that, and also that their feet were black from something in the grass in Bermuda (goose poop?) that was in their Crocs and just plain gross.

After all that cleaning, I next had to tackle mail, newspapers, bills, e-mails, TiVO'd Sopranos and Entourage (hey, I have my priorities straight), grocery shopping and appointments (my doctor, Scott OT).  By Thursday night, I fell into bed promising myself I would get back to the blogging today.

At 3am Scott ran into our bedroom and scared the crap out of Matt and me.  I yelled out and then Matt jumped up screaming.  Our reaction made Scott panic.  Complete chaos.  I am a light sleeper and can usually get my act together quick in an emergency, but I was so taken off guard, it took me a long time to calm myself down.  And Scott couldn't understand why we reacted so crazily.  Well, he's had bad dreams before and come into our room, but something about the way he ran in and how tired and completely asleep we were, just threw us over the edge.  Scott asked to stay in our room and I couldn't possibly say no after we had contributed to his horrible night's sleep.   Plus, I know from experience with Scott, that a trip like ours, along with trying to get back into the routine at school and the OT that day, he was thoroughly overstimulated.  I felt so badly for him.  He did tell me, in his mature kid way, that he knows the dreams aren't true, that there aren't any monsters, but that it was still scary. 

I  NEVER let the kids sleep in our room.  But, like I was saying, this time, I had to make an exception.  The reason why I don't ordinarily is because no one sleeps.  Which is exactly what happened.  Matt finally went to sleep in Scott's room so then he didn't hear his alarm go off at 5am, waking me up once again (I never really settled down anyway).  So today was just a day of sleep deprived catch up.  Finally I am writing, at 10pm.

Scott had a good time today imitating us jumping around and screaming.  He said he was sorry for scaring us and would try not to run into our room again.  I couldn't really tell him that I was the one who felt sorry.  For doing too much with him and pushing him over the edge.  It is just the way it is sometimes.  I guess the best I can do is help him cope better.  I shared some of my favorite nightmare stories with him (good material for another post).  Letting him have a good laugh at my expense is the best thing I can do sometimes. 

It seemed to do the trick.  He is asleep right now. 

In our bed.

Coming Up for a Quick Breath of Air

I know. I know.  Why haven't I been posting?  What's happened?

I am barely keeping it together for no good reason, just life, lots of stuff going on at once.  That's it. 

I LOVE blogging and have missed it enormously.  I have tons of posts to write.  SO many ideas in my head I can't think straight.  The thoughts need to come out, soon!  I will give you a quick summary of why things have been so busy.  Then I will go on vacation.  Then I will return and go back to blogging regularly.  And hopefully you (and I) will be happy.

April is the second most busy month of the year for us.  It closely reviles December in the amount of work and stress.  It is all the spring stuff; the lawn, the garden, swapping out clothes, activities, etc.  And it is also because of the two birthdays right in a row.  We planned to have two spring babies and we did.  Lucky us.  It is a great time to have a birthday, but two at once is a lot of work.  Every year I feel I do less but am more tired and overwhelmed.  The best part is that it is over fast.  Except for the thank-you notes, which I am traditionally putting off writing.

The entire month of April I tell myself that I will do this or that after the birthdays.  By the time the party is over I am so spent that I can't really accomplish much.  My dad's birthday and my father-in-law's birthday come a week later and then mother's day.  More gatherings, more gifts.  April stress spills into May.  Add to that a wedding we attended last weekend, trying to finish my book for bookgroup (deadline was Tuesday), and getting ready for this trip and now you see what's been happening.

Of course there is all the regular house chores, volunteering at school, running and working out,  bills to pay, shopping to do, baseball games, doctor appointments, OT for Scott, and so on.

No excuse really.  Just the way things have played out. 

See you back here soon.  I'm looking forward to it.

Watership Down

We have a bunny nest in our yard.  Or at least we did.  After tonight's incident, I am not sure anymore.
We were all out in the yard playing shortly before dinner time when my husband asked if anyone wanted to check on the bunnies.  The kids had discovered the nest/rabbit hole about a week ago.  I didn't know what it was, but we could all tell that some little furry things were moving around in there.  Matt looked more closely and concluded that there was a small rabbit family living in our yard.
Now this might not seem strange since we see tons of bunnies in our neighborhood.  The odd part is that we have a dog.  One that hangs out in the fenced in yard a lot.  A dog that is, supposedly, a predator.  In the fall we saw a lot of bunny droppings in her yard (a little area that she primarily poops in) and wondered what bold rabbit would purposely go into her area to do its business.  Now that we saw the rabbit home we realized this must be the culprit (or its family).
We all ran over to the nest while Matt found a small stick to push back the fur covering the door to the rabbit hole.  What happened next is a little bit of a blur.  I guess Libby (our crazy pitbull dog) saw the stick and thought she was going to get to play with it.  She pushed through our circle to get to the stick at the same time that Matt disturbed the bunny nest and all hell broke loose.  Baby bunnies bolted out of the hole and we screamed at Libby "NOOO!!!"  Scott disappeared.  Jane stood frozen looking at the bunny nest.  Libby chased one unfortunate little rabbit.  I think it squealed just as Matt grabbed Libby.  I hope it escaped.  I picked Jane up thinking she must be scared.
She was mostly confused.  The rest of us were shaken.  One bunny stood next to the house a few inches from his home not knowing what to do.  The kids looked on and after a few minutes, the baby bunny hopped away.  We all went inside.  It was so disturbing.  Jane kept asking where the rabbits went.  Scott laughed about how Libby tried to eat one.  Matt and I felt terrible.  Not only had we potentially harmed the innocent bunnies but we also almost exposed our children to a gruesome rabbit slaughter.  Not to mention if this could have harmed the dog in any way.
As is often the case in our lives, we were left wondering:  What were we thinking?  It was pretty dumb on several levels.  We can only hope that the little bunnies find their way home and that they still think our yard is a safe haven for them to grow in, even if it really isn't that safe for anyone.