Recap 12/31

1. Never assume any game that someone says “Pee Potion” is just all imagination.

2. My first thought when water didn’t come out of the pipes this morning was “Did I forget to pay the bill?”  Which followed with “no” and “they wouldn’t shut it off without notice and before 7am.”

3. It was 25°F when my dad, my hero, came over at a 7:45 to unfreeze my pipes.  Yes, the desert gets that cold.

4. Stupid winter.

5. I’m now more surprised Aidan hasn’t crawled, since he’s been rev-ing up on all fours for a couple of weeks.  Though he gets around well with rolling, squirming, and army crawling.

6. I am so ready for school to begin.  My sanity and my children’s well-being depend on it.

7. Want to know why I gave up wearing nail polish on my finger nails?  The f-ing chipping.  Like I have time to redo my nails every other day.

8. Let’s add Sean now having accidents every day and Evan coming and sleeping with me every night in the middle of the night to things that show my kids are totally stressed out over the separation.

9. Pirate Radio is F-ing hilarious.  Or maybe it was the company of my baby brother, who has kept his natural, free laugh.  Or both.

9 1/2. What the hell is this pop up that’s being blocked as I’m trying to type this post?  Jerk.

10. As for yesterday’s post, that probably sounded pretty hard on myself, I have a plan!  Sometimes God/Fate/The Universe slips something into your hands when you need it.

Ah Cr-

It was Christmas Eve evening, my appetizers had been plated.  The boys were running around my parents house in church clothes.  Thankfully Horton Hears a Who was on instead of A Christmas Story.  The Husband was finishing wrapping his white elephant gift.  My dad played with Aidan, and my mom was putting on the last minute touches on her outfit.

And I found myself with nothing to do, the first time in days.  So I picked up The Flip.  I noticed The Husband hadn’t cleaned the memory after he made a cool Christmas video card.  I did the natural thing; I deleted all the footage to make sure we had plenty of room for Christmas Eve and Christmas (because I would totally forget later if I didn’t do it right then).  A full two hours of memory was ready and waiting for special Christmas memories.  Ah, memories.

The Husband: Ok, finished wrapping.  Anything else you need done?

Me: Nope.  We’re good.  Hey, you didn’t clean the memory off the Flip.

The Husband: Yeah, I didn’t save it on the computer yet.

WHAT?!  An hour of family memories and Disneyland footage gone?!  WHAT?!  What have I done?!  And why didn’t he save it all when he was editing?!

Me: (Probably with a look of pure horror on my face) You didn’t save it on the computer yet?  (pause)  But you made that video.  You were messing with clips.

The Husband: I was working it off of the camera.  I didn’t have a lot of time.

Me: Crap.

The Husband: What?

Me: I erased it.  I erased the whole memory.

The Husband: You did what?!

Me: I deleted everything to make room for Christmas memories.  I assumed you would have saved everything when you made the video card.

The Husband: I guess you should have asked before you erased it all.

Me: I was about to.  But then I thought “Of course, he saved it.  What a stupid question?”  I suck.  God, that sucks so bad.

The Husband: Well, at least all the good stuff is saved on the computer already.

Me: We have that.  And I guess that means we need to go back to Disneyland to record it all over again.

The Husband: Guess so.  Um, can I have that before you do any more damage?

I handed it over before the thing randomly exploded.  No one trust me with technology.

The year is up

This year has flown by.  And I can’t wait for it to be over.  Except there’s still crap that is leftover to deal with.  This year my marriage crashed on the rocks, taking on water, leaking oil.  This year my mom found out she had breast cancer, went under knife to rise and find she needs to go under again and needs both radiation and chemotherapy.  I have been in depression for most of the year, starting with the pregnancy hormones and ending with the situations I find myself.  If it wasn’t for Aidan, I would call it a year and bite my thumb at it. 

As for my resolutions, no dental insurance and no savings.  Damn.  But I did get something published.  For a buck.  Hey, we all have to start somewhere, right?  And I am a tad more organized this year than last.  Just a tad.

I have other things to be proud of too.  I’m really working hard on my co-dependence, saying my affirmations and doing my exercises.  I’m meditating and praying more.  I stopped myself from saying something stupid in a heated discussion with The Husband yesterday.  I’m determined to work out a way to deal with my anger and become less stressed.  I’m trying to yell less and do more eye contact.

So what do I want to promise myself now?

Maybe I’ll work on my weight because the pounds just fall off when you can’t eat because of depression and you’re in constant motion because you have three boys to chase after.

Maybe I’ll work on that organization stuff.  I still get the occasional pink bill and I still haven’t figured out how to motivate myself to file.

I’ll keep trying to get published and become a better writer.  I’d like to get back to doing crafts with the boys.

We need dental insurance and better health insurance.  God, we need to save.

And I think about what I’m up against this year, and I get a little scared. 

My husband and I are separated.  We can’t trust each other; we have all these theories about why the other person is not right.  We stare at each other in a stand-off.  Maybe this is the year I get divorced.  Maybe this is the year I have to make huge changes to be a better wife.

My mom has cancer.  It’s not as bad as it could be.  But it’s scary.  I don’t want her to be sick.  I don’t want her to die.  I selfishly think about what I’m going to do without her watching the boys every once in a while.  I know my mom and I don’t have the best relationship.  She’s co-dependent too.  She’s tactless and vocal.  She tries to protect me because she thinks she knows what’s best.  And I have to change that.  All the while she’ll be battling cancer.

Then there’s me.  I need to make it a point to go out by myself and with friends.  I need to be able to get out and do something active.  I need to be able to balance my life so I’m enjoying it and not rushing to get it done.  I need to have me-time.  I need to let myself be and not be so hard on myself.  I’m even thinking of getting my teaching certificate.

It all seems like . . . A Lot.  So I guess my resolution is to make my life whole and healthy.  To make me whole and healthy. 

Now I just have to break it down into smaller goals.  Hmmmmmm.

Cooking with Breastmilk

As of last week, Aidan is no longer a vegan.  Which brings me to one of my favorite parts of babyhood: making meals.  I pull out all my breast milk recipes, much to The Husband’s and my parents’ amusement.

It all came about when Evan was a baby.  By the time he was introduced to eggs, Evan decided breastfeeding was not for him.  He’d take a few pulls and then smile up to me as in to say, “Look what I did for you.”  So he was weaned.  Then we ran into a problem.  He wouldn’t drink breast milk or formula from a bottle.  If it wasn’t juice coming from that rubber nipple, then he was not going to drink.  No, sir.  Being new to parenting, I resorted to cups because I had forgotten that someone had invented sippy cups.  Evan was not getting enough milk, and I was desperate.  So I added it to his scrambled eggs.  Then I made him french toast.  I made omelets.  I added milk to everything.  And he loved it.  And I loved it.  And it was good.

So now as I “slave” away on a stove, I do it with a smile for the baby who is eating Cheerios in the high chair behind me.  And I know he’ll love it.

Breathe

It’s amazing how much work goes in for an event that takes less than 24hours. 

Friday I ran around getting things together.  Making appetizers, cleaning the house, finishing craft-gifts, taking care of baby and boys.  I started top really lose it as we got close to leaving for my parents’ house for my dad’s family Christmas Eve party.  I shouldn’t have stressed.  Everyone else was at least a half an hour late.  My grandma was an hour and half late, which was remarkable because technically she was two hours late because my mom gave her an earlier time.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t have two boys that need early bedtimes and a baby who could hear all the fun that was being had without him.  He could barely be bothered to eat.

My uncles indulged my boys with swords and mini-remote-controled cars and other toys.  My mom indulged the boys in extra cookies and desserts.  And I indulged them with staying up late and driving around looking at Christmas lights (thanks, Jane, for the idea), even though The Husband was worried about how long it was going to take us to put together the bikes.

He didn’t need to worry.  He was gone before 11.  I finished up some cleaning and setting the stage for magical memories.  The Friendly Giant, my sweet baby brother, came over at 11:30 with my camera that I left at my parents’ house.

Christmas dawned.  The Husband was over WAY before the boys woke up.  We were ready for Evan.  Who took one look around and.  Melted.  There was no blizzard marker to be had.  Why would Santa be so cruel?  Luckily The Husband was in charged of the last Evan gift and bought a light saber game, which Evan loved, even if it is a little advanced for him.

Sean.  Sean loved his pirate cave and the pirates I bought on e-bay, three times the price I could have paid if I had bought them the year before.  Sigh.  But Sean was in love.  And didn’t care about any presents.  Not one.  For the rest of the day.

Aidan was just glad to have paper the crinkle and rustle.

Then Evan noticed a toy amongst his pile of Santa gifts.  A gargoyle toy from the cartoon Gargoyles that I had bought for cheap at a used book store.  Still in his package.  And Evan was in love. 

As we drove to my parents’ house for a delicious breakfast The Husband made for everyone, Evan exclaimed, “Santa brought me something I always wanted but never knew existed.”

Yup, that’s Santa.  Or God.  I can never remember.

Now all that’s left is to write the thank you notes that I’m sure I’ll forget to send.  Again.

Starting to loose my chill

I’m drawing a blank here. 

Usually I start composing somewhere in the shower.  The only five minutes of peace I have until everyone is passed out.  But lately I’ve been during a shower meditation, so it takes up most of my time.

Usually I have most of the day to compose because I write during nap time when Aidan and Sean are sleeping and Evan is at school.  Not only is Evan out of school and plays the Piper to Sean’s Child, today is counselor day, so the boys will be at my parents’ house during nap time.  I will be doing something to help my mom.

Usually I can be focused even with two boys breaking in to tell me something or show me something or beg me for something.  But I’m trying not to think about composing speeches for the counselor and obsessing about the lies that started a year ago Sunday.  Yeah, that not thinking is working out well.  So I drag my brain to another thought.  Like how my mom has just found out today what stage of breast cancer she has and I should call her and see how she is doing.  After I finish this post.  So I drag my brain away to the wrapping I have to do (all of it) and the Christmas cards that need to be done (most of them) and the ornaments the boys need to make (please don’t let me burn them again) and the cleaning I should do (because we’re preserving memories here, folks) and I got to remember to check the directions on what tools we need to build the bikes and should I bake something (because those muddie buddies found their way into my hands WAY too many times the last two days) and maybe I should stop writing and start making a list.  And checking it twice.

I think I’m about to have a panic attack.

Santa, Baby.

We took Evan when he was five months old.  There was no line.  My mom insisted.  That’s why we went.

The next year we were given tickets to a Christmas train ride with a Santa visit that was only for OC Girl Scouts.  A neighbor gave them to us because her troop organized it.  How could we disappoint her daughter who loved Evan?

The year after we nearly got away without one Santa visit.  But as we walked through one of the neighborhoods where every house is strewed with lights and people walk around looking at the huge electric bills, we spotted a “real” Santa sitting in one of the yards with some young, cute (I’m married with two kids, not dead) Marines collecting Toys for Tots. 

The year after that I was too busy with Christmas and the debating over moving to worry about Santa.  My uncle dressed up as Santa for the Christmas Eve party.  My dear, brave, social Evan ran for cover, too scared to come out.  Maybe not going to see Santa was a good thing.

Last year we just never got around to it.  I’m such an awesome parent.  My uncle dressed up as Santa again.  This time he bribed my boys over with presents.  Once they noticed he had bells on his buckle, they liked him well enough.  Evan showed his own Santa costume.

A couple of weeks ago, one of the kindergartener told Evan about the mall Santa.  And I was doomed.  Luckily one of the mothers came to my aid and asked if I wanted to go together.  After many dropped plans due to sickness, we went today.  While I was on time (HOLY CRAP!), she ran late, which was fine.  The kids danced around with each other, glad to be together, trying to get a glimpse of Santa.  After making their Christmas wishes, releasing snow into the air, and testing the naughty-or-nice machine (they came out nice which just means Santa is as forgiving as God), they saw Santa.  My boys just stood there.  As a helped lifted Sean onto Santa’s lap, I whispered, “Tell Santa what you want.”  My shy Sean launched into a monologue of toddler-accented list of toys.  Then it was Evan’s turn, who asked for a Pillow Pet and Blizzard maker.  Aidan didn’t know what to think as he stared at Santa.  The picture came out nice, and then we added the other two kids.  It took 45 minutes.  And I was thankful that Aidan was a happy baby without a morning nap.  Oh, and that there was no incidents to mark this as the last year we could visit Santa at the mall.

Then again, maybe that would have been a good thing.

Just a Friendly Memo

As the youngest member to set sail with this band of pirates, you were given few responsibilities to prove yourself.  We are happy to say you pass with flying colors.  Though.  There are a few things to improve upon.

We don’t like the grumpiness that begins around a quarter to five when the quartermaster/cook is at her busiest.  We don’t appreciate the grumpiness that lasts until the bedtime.  Yes, you do muscle out of it once in a while, when the quartermaster or captain hold you or when the quartermaster tickles and plays with you.  Or when your fellow crew members lavish happy attention on you, but then one can’t expect you to be too happy when one of your fellow mates is talking to you two centimeters from your face. NO ONE likes that.

While we are pleased that you are finally taking morning naps that are longer than a half hour, the two-hour ones are a little annoying.  Especially since the quartermaster is scrambling to stock up on supplies.  In a perfect world, the quartermaster would leave you and your crewmates with another authority figure to run for supplies.  Unfortunately, the captain is reviewing another ship, and this crew cannot be left without some sort of authority figure.

As we are already on the subject, please note that a long morning nap does not give you permission to dismiss the afternoon nap.  Missing the afternoon nap will be seen as mutiny.  And we cannot have that.

Also to note, the sooner you find your voice, the sooner you will be given a voice on adventures and plunder, but not to dismiss the captain or quartermaster.  We have fought too hard to lose the ship now.  If you think you can rebel against bedtimes, please take it up with your fellow crew members because, sailor, the quartermaster has never backed down from that rule.

Thank you.  We look forward to many years of swashbuckling, fighting, plundering, looting, and swimming with you.

The Quartermaster.

Hello?

I wonder how much effort I should put into the blog this week.  Many of my favorite writers have closed up shop for the holidays.  Not because they are out partying it hard, but because they have a billion things to do and children underfoot causing those poor mothers to add more time and more things on the list of a billion. 

Like my household.  Where the boys are “suppose” to be eating.  But Evan is mocking Sean.  Sean is trying to tell his own story.  Evan is interrupting and correcting Sean.  Sean is crying.  Evan has a naked doll and fork.  They’ve come in the office three times to tattle.  Oh, and the baby is sleeping an unusually long morning nap or else we would be out of the house doing grocery shopping.  Because I squandered the morning adventure on a Target run to get a few items we are in danger of running out of as well as a few gifts for daddy, which, horror of horrors, no one could agree on because the thing they want is sold out in their daddy’s sized.

Oh, vacation.  Oh, holidays.

So is any one out there?  Not that it matters.  I do need a place to vent.

Recap 12/17

1. Can anyone else believe it’s midway through December already?  Where did the year go?!

2. Isn’t it my luck that the grandma in front of me moved into the view of the Flip right when Evan gave his line for the Christmas pageant?

3. Aidan is really working on that crawl.  He loves being under the Christmas tree.

4. I agree with my BFF; my readers kick-ass.

5. I found the secret of convincing kids to get ready for the day right away.  Bribe them with video playing time before school.  (I know.  Please send the Mother of The Year award to me.)

6. My boys ask for the one food we are out of.  Constantly.

7. Sean nods his head with a big, sweet smile, when asking for something, trying to make the adult agree with him.

8. Evan REALLY wants a Blizzard Maker, but after reading it takes 20 minutes of cranking, I think Santa isn’t going to bring it.

9. Poor Aidan.  His nose stops up at night, forcing him to spit out his binky to breathe.  Then he finds he’s lost his binky and wakes up, crying.  I wake up, pop the binky back into his mouth, listen to his stopped up breathing, praying that he would sleep through the night.  The process is repeated every hour.  God, I need sleep.

10. Who raised these women who have all their gifts bought and wrapped in wrapping that matches their perfectly coordinated Christmas tree and their perfectly coordinated decorated house, baking up tons of Christmas cookies that are given to friends and family in matching tubs (which, of course, match the tree), sending out adorable cards a couple of weeks before Christmas?  If I wasn’t so busy, I would go egging.