In my ongoing search for mama-and-baby activities for Bean and I to do together that don't involve her spending a lot of time in shopping carts and me making up things I "need" to shop for, I've run across something that I'm pretty sure is a new and uniquely American event: the playgroup or story time held inside a retail store.
I'm not talking about someone reading stories to little ones at the local bookstore. Personally, I still think of bookstores as something other than a retail category and more of a...I don't know, a sanctuary of sorts. Something more worthy than just a store somehow. The creepiness I'm talking about is Pottery Barn Kids holding a playgroup where a clown is invited, and afterwards kids are permitted to frolic in the store's play area--all the toys in which are for sale, of course. And for a pretty big chunk of cash.
Then there are those Gymboree play center classes that are admittedly separate from their kids' clothing stores, but which include the singing of songs about "Gymbo" the clown, sung to the tune of "Bingo," and which have the corporate logo emblazoned all over the place. Plus a convenient little wall of overpriced toys for sale right next to the cubbies.
Is this phenomenon not similar to Channel One still showing in many American classrooms, purportedly airing current events content but also running ads by Coke and Nike and what have you? Are my lefty roots showing and I'm freaking out over a non-existent conspiracy in which The Man tries to imprint my little one's tender brain with corporate logos? Does anyone even talk about The Man anymore?
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
Special etiquette
I have officially joined the local mothers' club. It felt so...well...weird doing it for some reason. I'm not a joiner, for one thing, and much prefer hanging out in my kitchen alone on the computer or else sewing or reading or some other solitary pursuit. Plus, I have friends already. They're good friends that I've known for some time and like very much. Most of them work, though, so it's all I can do to maintain those relationships. For that matter, it's all I can do to squeeze in things like sewing and reading and hanging out on-line, so why am I doing this? For baby Bean, of course. I'm doing it for the playgroups.
But I'm beginning to have the sneaking suspicion that there is a playgroup culture out there that I'm so not privy to. I never did join a playgroup when Sister was little because I was working and already had too much to do. So it was a surprise when the mothers' club sent out the roster of people looking for playgroups and attached articles about playgroups that we were supposed to read. 'Cause playgroups require research and preparation, I guess. And then there's the overachieving mom who called me at friggin' 10 p.m. last night because she's taken it upon herself to organize the roster into a spreadsheet with names listed according to different criteria. She's getting her master's in information science, she told me gushingly, and just hated to have a semi-functional system out there. I went to the open playgroup last week with Bean to meet some of the parents, and more than one mom gave me recommendations quoted from those articles or from the mothers' club meeting speaker about how playgroups are supposed to be run and who should be in them. It was a bit freaky.
I just can't bring myself to research how I'm supposed to be scheduling Bean's playtime for optimal fun and learning or whatever, so I'm turning to you mamas out there before I sign up. Have any of you ever joined playgroups? Recommended or not? Any words of advice? And how do you avoid the overachieving, uber-mamas and just find some nice, relaxed mamas with nice, relaxed kids?
But I'm beginning to have the sneaking suspicion that there is a playgroup culture out there that I'm so not privy to. I never did join a playgroup when Sister was little because I was working and already had too much to do. So it was a surprise when the mothers' club sent out the roster of people looking for playgroups and attached articles about playgroups that we were supposed to read. 'Cause playgroups require research and preparation, I guess. And then there's the overachieving mom who called me at friggin' 10 p.m. last night because she's taken it upon herself to organize the roster into a spreadsheet with names listed according to different criteria. She's getting her master's in information science, she told me gushingly, and just hated to have a semi-functional system out there. I went to the open playgroup last week with Bean to meet some of the parents, and more than one mom gave me recommendations quoted from those articles or from the mothers' club meeting speaker about how playgroups are supposed to be run and who should be in them. It was a bit freaky.
I just can't bring myself to research how I'm supposed to be scheduling Bean's playtime for optimal fun and learning or whatever, so I'm turning to you mamas out there before I sign up. Have any of you ever joined playgroups? Recommended or not? Any words of advice? And how do you avoid the overachieving, uber-mamas and just find some nice, relaxed mamas with nice, relaxed kids?
Friday, September 22, 2006
Changing of the garden
I've got an unexpected boon of free time this morning. Bean slept miserably last night and woke up with a cold, so she's taking a morning nap. We're skipping her little Friday morning music class, too, since I think she'd be too grumpy. No parent there would appreciate her extremely runny nose and sneezing either.
So here I sit in the kitchen at my computer, sipping tea and enjoying this little gift of time. I didn't get much sleep last night either, but I'm not feeling it yet. I feel great, in fact, which just goes to prove how very much I am starved for alone time these days. It trumps napping, which is saying a lot for me!
Earlier this morning I walked the dog past our old house and dropped off lists of plants that I had planted there in 2004 and 2005 plus a fat stack of plastic plant tags that I'd never gotten around to cataloging. The new owners requested them when I mentioned that I had kept records of everything because they're eager to learn about what's there and what kind of care the plants require. This thrills me, of course, since it was so hard to leave them all. But it occurred to me after I walked away that it really isn't my garden anymore. I've still felt possessive when I've walked by the house these last couple of months. I've been mad at them when they didn't water during a whole month of no rain. I've been sad to see things die that I really loved. But when I gave them those plant records I gave them the last of my work there. That's it! For real this time.
Tomorrow, though, Husband and the girls and I are going to a local nursery to choose a good-sized tree to plant in our mostly barren new front yard. I'm thinking about a willow oak or possibly another maple to pair with the one tall maple already out front. It will be the first thing we plant here and I'm so pleased and excited about it.
So here I sit in the kitchen at my computer, sipping tea and enjoying this little gift of time. I didn't get much sleep last night either, but I'm not feeling it yet. I feel great, in fact, which just goes to prove how very much I am starved for alone time these days. It trumps napping, which is saying a lot for me!
Earlier this morning I walked the dog past our old house and dropped off lists of plants that I had planted there in 2004 and 2005 plus a fat stack of plastic plant tags that I'd never gotten around to cataloging. The new owners requested them when I mentioned that I had kept records of everything because they're eager to learn about what's there and what kind of care the plants require. This thrills me, of course, since it was so hard to leave them all. But it occurred to me after I walked away that it really isn't my garden anymore. I've still felt possessive when I've walked by the house these last couple of months. I've been mad at them when they didn't water during a whole month of no rain. I've been sad to see things die that I really loved. But when I gave them those plant records I gave them the last of my work there. That's it! For real this time.
Tomorrow, though, Husband and the girls and I are going to a local nursery to choose a good-sized tree to plant in our mostly barren new front yard. I'm thinking about a willow oak or possibly another maple to pair with the one tall maple already out front. It will be the first thing we plant here and I'm so pleased and excited about it.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Terrible tasks
The past 48 hours have been filled with all sorts of sucky events. 2 days ago, I experienced perhaps my single worst day as mama to Sister. It involved a 1-1/2 hour long bout over very hard subtraction homework during which Sister alternately cried, whined, moaned, and threw fits. There were exactly six problems on this homework sheet, by the way. Six. At one point I totally lost it, grabbed Sister by the arm, and hustled her up the stairs to go sit in her room to cool off. (I, of course, also very much needed to cool off.) Plus I yelled at the baby after Sister came back down 'cause I STILL couldn't get Sister focused and Bean tore about the house getting into everything she knew she wasn't supposed to get into--plant leaf ripping, much drawer emptying, block throwing, dog slapping, and file cabinet paper flinging--just so I'd pay her some attention. Yeah, yelled at the baby. Is it any wonder that Sister's picking this up from me when Bean gets into her stuff? Way to model good mama behavior, Self!
Later that evening, Husband and I talked about the lawyer appointment we'd had just that morning where we discussed our wills. The appointment had gone fine, but Husband and I had a heated discussion over whether I should leave the money for Sister under the management of her perpetually unemployed father if I were to die. I don't want to because I'm afraid he'll spend it all on remaining unemployed so that she'll have nothing by the time she goes to college. Husband argued that making someone else a trustee is impractical, and anyway which of us inherits money at such a young age? I'm still unsure what to do. But I cried again that night.
And since then, I've spent precious naptime working either on an application for a new life insurance policy or on Brownie stuff.
Just sucky, I tell ya. Hope y'all are doing better than I am!
Later that evening, Husband and I talked about the lawyer appointment we'd had just that morning where we discussed our wills. The appointment had gone fine, but Husband and I had a heated discussion over whether I should leave the money for Sister under the management of her perpetually unemployed father if I were to die. I don't want to because I'm afraid he'll spend it all on remaining unemployed so that she'll have nothing by the time she goes to college. Husband argued that making someone else a trustee is impractical, and anyway which of us inherits money at such a young age? I'm still unsure what to do. But I cried again that night.
And since then, I've spent precious naptime working either on an application for a new life insurance policy or on Brownie stuff.
Just sucky, I tell ya. Hope y'all are doing better than I am!
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Job widow
"Whatever you believe you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it."--Goethe
I'm not usually the inspirational quote kind of girl, but this one has stuck with me since the first time I came across it 15 years ago or so. Lest you feel all impressed and daunted by how erudite and well-read I am and shit, let me just say that I read that in the context of some magazine article about someone who climbed Mt. Everest. Can't even remember who it was, and I probably read it while waiting in a doctor's waiting room or something. See? Not so clever as all that.
But anyways, it popped into my head this morning randomly, probably as my sub-subconscious was mulling over Husband's recent job change. I haven't blogged about it recently because it occurred to me that I was being rather indiscreet, blabbing the details of his work life over the internet when things were still undecided and tense. Now I can tell you that he turned in his letter of resignation yesterday. His plan is to start his own on-line marketing agency, and already has a couple of clients lined up, and even a few people begging him to be their marketing directors if that doesn't work out. He appears to be good at what he does, though don't ask me exactly how he spends his working hours. Couldn't tell ya.
So last weekend he spent part of Saturday and all day Sunday working on this new venture, meeting with people he knows, and going over potential contracts. I had thought that this was an exceptional event and that once he was no longer still working at his current job he'd have normal working hours again and we'd have weekend family time again. Last night when I mentioned that I'd be glad when this was settled down some, he let me know that it may not. Starting your own business requires very long and often irregular hours, he told me, and though he didn't plan to work every weekend, he couldn't promise me that he wouldn't. And then he said, "I may have to work all the time just to pay all the bills." Which, how can I argue with that, being one of the people he's supporting?
I lay there awhile thinking all these things that started with, "But I...." You know, like, "But I need you to give me a break from the baby sometimes!" and "But I really want us to be able to do things together as a family on the weekends!" or "But I hate it when you don't show up for dinner and it's just me and the kids sitting there, and me all pissy because I just spent the last half hour cooking with a screaming baby clinging to my legs." Feeling sorry for myself, I eventually fell asleep.
Sort of hard to think of Husband's new thing as full of genius, power, and magic when the kids have nearly pushed me over the edge, but hey! I'll give it a shot, okay, honey? Y'all just think thoughts full of genius, power, and magic my way.
I'm not usually the inspirational quote kind of girl, but this one has stuck with me since the first time I came across it 15 years ago or so. Lest you feel all impressed and daunted by how erudite and well-read I am and shit, let me just say that I read that in the context of some magazine article about someone who climbed Mt. Everest. Can't even remember who it was, and I probably read it while waiting in a doctor's waiting room or something. See? Not so clever as all that.
But anyways, it popped into my head this morning randomly, probably as my sub-subconscious was mulling over Husband's recent job change. I haven't blogged about it recently because it occurred to me that I was being rather indiscreet, blabbing the details of his work life over the internet when things were still undecided and tense. Now I can tell you that he turned in his letter of resignation yesterday. His plan is to start his own on-line marketing agency, and already has a couple of clients lined up, and even a few people begging him to be their marketing directors if that doesn't work out. He appears to be good at what he does, though don't ask me exactly how he spends his working hours. Couldn't tell ya.
So last weekend he spent part of Saturday and all day Sunday working on this new venture, meeting with people he knows, and going over potential contracts. I had thought that this was an exceptional event and that once he was no longer still working at his current job he'd have normal working hours again and we'd have weekend family time again. Last night when I mentioned that I'd be glad when this was settled down some, he let me know that it may not. Starting your own business requires very long and often irregular hours, he told me, and though he didn't plan to work every weekend, he couldn't promise me that he wouldn't. And then he said, "I may have to work all the time just to pay all the bills." Which, how can I argue with that, being one of the people he's supporting?
I lay there awhile thinking all these things that started with, "But I...." You know, like, "But I need you to give me a break from the baby sometimes!" and "But I really want us to be able to do things together as a family on the weekends!" or "But I hate it when you don't show up for dinner and it's just me and the kids sitting there, and me all pissy because I just spent the last half hour cooking with a screaming baby clinging to my legs." Feeling sorry for myself, I eventually fell asleep.
Sort of hard to think of Husband's new thing as full of genius, power, and magic when the kids have nearly pushed me over the edge, but hey! I'll give it a shot, okay, honey? Y'all just think thoughts full of genius, power, and magic my way.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Old friends, hard feelings
I've been working for the last couple of days on renting a beach house for some girlfriends of mine and I on Topsail Island, NC in October. It's our annual beach trip--as of a couple of years ago anyway, and not including last year when both me and Mommygoth had babies too new to leave for a few nights. I'm looking forward to resuming this tradition very much, though. I'd love for it to keep going til we're all old, old ladies.
But I'm a bit nervous about this trip, too. There will be 5 of us there, including me. We've all known each other since college, and one of them I've even known since elementary school. 3 of us are married and have children. 2 of us are not married and are childless. These last 2 girlfriends would like very much to be married and be mamas, and one of them is even going so far as to give her boyfriend of 10 years an ultimatum. He'll either agree to have kids with her by her December birthday, or she'll leave him. Only she's not telling him the date, because apparently he won't respond well to a spoken ultimatum. The other friend is still mourning the end of a relationship that she (and we!) really thought was going somewhere, and which went on long enough to seem serious. She's 36 now and freaking out about her prospects seeming so grim.
Sigh.
Our first year doing this trip, I remember commenting to one of my friends, "We're at the age now where for the next 10 years, someone'll either be getting married, or pregnant, or nursing a newborn." It seemed like it couldn't possibly turn out otherwise then. Can you tell why there's something a bit nerve-wracking here? My emotions about it all are very mixed. I feel horrible that my 2 friends are so unhappy about their lives, and that things aren't going the way they wanted them to. One of them is particularly fragile, and I hate to see her that way. I'm excited to be going and getting some time with them away from the responsibilities of my usual life, even if I should be so lucky to have such responsibilities. I want to get caught up on everyone's lives, but I feel like I should probably keep my mouth shut about my own because I don't want to piss anyone off or make anyone feel bad. They are wonderful women who don't have a spiteful bone in their bodies and wouldn't begrudge me a thing, but I can see that my TWO husbands--one of them Ex, of course--and TWO girls are an irritant sometimes.
I know that marriage and babies aren't the only mark of success in a woman's life, and I certainly know they're not the only route to happiness. But I AM happy, and apparently feeling guilty about it. I know I don't deserve my life, and didn't do a thing to earn what I have. I feel grateful and puzzled about it every single day.
But almost none of us deserve what we get, do we?
But I'm a bit nervous about this trip, too. There will be 5 of us there, including me. We've all known each other since college, and one of them I've even known since elementary school. 3 of us are married and have children. 2 of us are not married and are childless. These last 2 girlfriends would like very much to be married and be mamas, and one of them is even going so far as to give her boyfriend of 10 years an ultimatum. He'll either agree to have kids with her by her December birthday, or she'll leave him. Only she's not telling him the date, because apparently he won't respond well to a spoken ultimatum. The other friend is still mourning the end of a relationship that she (and we!) really thought was going somewhere, and which went on long enough to seem serious. She's 36 now and freaking out about her prospects seeming so grim.
Sigh.
Our first year doing this trip, I remember commenting to one of my friends, "We're at the age now where for the next 10 years, someone'll either be getting married, or pregnant, or nursing a newborn." It seemed like it couldn't possibly turn out otherwise then. Can you tell why there's something a bit nerve-wracking here? My emotions about it all are very mixed. I feel horrible that my 2 friends are so unhappy about their lives, and that things aren't going the way they wanted them to. One of them is particularly fragile, and I hate to see her that way. I'm excited to be going and getting some time with them away from the responsibilities of my usual life, even if I should be so lucky to have such responsibilities. I want to get caught up on everyone's lives, but I feel like I should probably keep my mouth shut about my own because I don't want to piss anyone off or make anyone feel bad. They are wonderful women who don't have a spiteful bone in their bodies and wouldn't begrudge me a thing, but I can see that my TWO husbands--one of them Ex, of course--and TWO girls are an irritant sometimes.
I know that marriage and babies aren't the only mark of success in a woman's life, and I certainly know they're not the only route to happiness. But I AM happy, and apparently feeling guilty about it. I know I don't deserve my life, and didn't do a thing to earn what I have. I feel grateful and puzzled about it every single day.
But almost none of us deserve what we get, do we?
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Sad fat foodie mama
My to-do list is mercifully light today, and the calendar empty of after school activities for Sister. Which means that I feel fully justified in sitting here during naptime writing blog fluff.
Today was the first day in quite some time where it was cool enough to require something rather heavier than cotton capri pants and vintage cotton house dresses. I busted out my favorite pair of jeans this morning in the early chill, all thrilled that I got to put them on again. Pulled them up with perhaps a slightly harder tug necessary to get them over my hips than I remember them requiring. Zipped them up...but that needed a bit of force. Then buttoned them and fastened my belt and looked in the mirror. Damn. When the hell did my ass get so big? I was so crammed into those jeans I felt like a total trashy slut mama walking Sister to school.
Better start laying off the ice cream. And the gin. And the jellybeans, amaretti cookies, butter mints, roasted nuts, buttery mashed potatoes, and everything else I love that's a routine part of my eating week. Ugh. I think this gets suddenly harder the minute you turn 35 or something. Or maybe it's this stay at home mom gig where food keeps me company all day.
Today was the first day in quite some time where it was cool enough to require something rather heavier than cotton capri pants and vintage cotton house dresses. I busted out my favorite pair of jeans this morning in the early chill, all thrilled that I got to put them on again. Pulled them up with perhaps a slightly harder tug necessary to get them over my hips than I remember them requiring. Zipped them up...but that needed a bit of force. Then buttoned them and fastened my belt and looked in the mirror. Damn. When the hell did my ass get so big? I was so crammed into those jeans I felt like a total trashy slut mama walking Sister to school.
Better start laying off the ice cream. And the gin. And the jellybeans, amaretti cookies, butter mints, roasted nuts, buttery mashed potatoes, and everything else I love that's a routine part of my eating week. Ugh. I think this gets suddenly harder the minute you turn 35 or something. Or maybe it's this stay at home mom gig where food keeps me company all day.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Back to THIS?
This back-to-school business is hitting me hard all of a sudden. I feel like I've been thrown violently out of a summer of comparative leisure and relaxation--or anyway, as much of that as can be expected while trying to keep a couple of kids from being TOO bored--to the fast lane of Brownies, open houses, emails to the teacher, after school activities, packing non-boring yet nutritious lunches, and trying to instill good homework habits in Sister so that she doesn't take 2 hours to do 30 minutes' worth of homework. How did this happen? And did I REALLY believe that once Sister was back in school I would somehow miraculously have time to start going to the gym regularly like I've been promising myself I'd do?
Yeah, right.
Yeah, right.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
A weekend long recovery
It's been some time since I felt completely back to my normal self, but I think after this weekend I'm there. I left Bean alone with Husband on Friday night while I went on an overnight trip with a friend to her mom's house in a town a couple of hours away. We got our hair done--and FINALLY someone got my haircut right, though I had my snooty doubts, this place being what I think of as a small Southern town. Just goes to show me, ME of all people, why stereotypes about the South and small towns are, well, stereotypes. I'm crazy about this haircut. So cute and not like I have a pair of shaggy earmuffs on at all anymore.
But anyways, this is not what got me back to my normal self entirely. This trip included not only a perfect, unplanned haircut, but also cheap antique shopping! I purchased things for the house and didn't spend a fortune! I even found 2 beautiful antique quilts and a quilt top that I plan to finish myself with fabrics from this place for just under $100. Do any of you know how unaffordable antique quilts generally are? If you care, I'll just tell you that they're usually WAY expensive. But not these.
We also had margaritas! 16-ounce margaritas, me and my friend's mom, that were yummy and extremely drinkable. Served to us by a slow-ass waiter, but who cares when the conversation is fabulous and there's no baby to chase around the restaurant and you know you can drink as many as you want because you can stay up as late as you want 'cause there's no baby who's going to wake you up at 6:30?! I can't tell you how much glee that filled me with for the whole 24 hours I was there. We all 3 stayed up late, drinking and nibbling sweets (and them smoking) on the porch til WAY past my bedtime. I learned that I am in fact NOT too old to get over hangovers quickly the next morning. All it takes is having slept 9 solid hours the night before!
So all in all, this was a fabulous weekend. I missed little Bean a tiny bit when I called home to tell her goodnight, but mostly I was just so pleased to be out on my own for a change. I recommend this sort of thing highly to all you over-taxed mamas out there if you can manage it.
But anyways, this is not what got me back to my normal self entirely. This trip included not only a perfect, unplanned haircut, but also cheap antique shopping! I purchased things for the house and didn't spend a fortune! I even found 2 beautiful antique quilts and a quilt top that I plan to finish myself with fabrics from this place for just under $100. Do any of you know how unaffordable antique quilts generally are? If you care, I'll just tell you that they're usually WAY expensive. But not these.
We also had margaritas! 16-ounce margaritas, me and my friend's mom, that were yummy and extremely drinkable. Served to us by a slow-ass waiter, but who cares when the conversation is fabulous and there's no baby to chase around the restaurant and you know you can drink as many as you want because you can stay up as late as you want 'cause there's no baby who's going to wake you up at 6:30?! I can't tell you how much glee that filled me with for the whole 24 hours I was there. We all 3 stayed up late, drinking and nibbling sweets (and them smoking) on the porch til WAY past my bedtime. I learned that I am in fact NOT too old to get over hangovers quickly the next morning. All it takes is having slept 9 solid hours the night before!
So all in all, this was a fabulous weekend. I missed little Bean a tiny bit when I called home to tell her goodnight, but mostly I was just so pleased to be out on my own for a change. I recommend this sort of thing highly to all you over-taxed mamas out there if you can manage it.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
A new food season!
I don't know about the rest of you, but all of a sudden it really feels like fall is coming. The angle of sunlight is changing, and down here in NC we've had a lot of heavy rain lately. This after a solid month of temperatures in the upper, upper 90's and not a drop of precipitation. No wonder it feels different!
Suddenly, all I can think about is cooking fall things in the coming cooler weather. I went out to the grocery store today and bought a whole mess of apples to make into apple butter. Mommygoth is going to email me her pumpkin muffin recipe tonight when she gets home. I want to bake and fill the kitchen with delicious, cinnamon-y, nutmeg-y, clove-y smells! I want to can stuff! I want to stockpile things for the winter!
I am so ready for fall.
Suddenly, all I can think about is cooking fall things in the coming cooler weather. I went out to the grocery store today and bought a whole mess of apples to make into apple butter. Mommygoth is going to email me her pumpkin muffin recipe tonight when she gets home. I want to bake and fill the kitchen with delicious, cinnamon-y, nutmeg-y, clove-y smells! I want to can stuff! I want to stockpile things for the winter!
I am so ready for fall.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Unlocking the cabin
We got back from the mountains yesterday and after 8 hours on the road with 2 kids, I'm glad to be home. I unpacked everything within an hour after our return, and have washed and dried no fewer than 6 loads of laundry in the past 18 hours. Blogging with a cup of tea is my reward. Folding will come later.
Some of you know about my...how shall we say...dread? Horror? Anyways, my rather negative feelings about our annual excursion(s) to Husband's family cabin in Tennessee. If you're new to this blog, let me just explain that this cabin is beyond "rustic." It's more along the lines of "filthy" or even "squalid." I am no pansy when it comes to damp and dirt, like say on a camping trip or a long hike. Neither am I by any stretch of the imagination the keeper of an immaculate house. You know, someone who makes you take your shoes off at the door, someone who even scrubs the toilets regularly. But this cabin! The floor is so disgusting that I just can't bring myself to go barefoot. I wear socks instead, and after a couple of hours have passed, the sock bottoms are stiff and shiny with black filth. The mattresses and whatever horrible things fill the old dressers reek of mildew. I am physically uncomfortable when we have to lie down in one of the damp, stinky beds at night between sheets that will never get properly clean because it's just too moist there, and anyway the washing machine stinks, too. Factor in the 8-hour drive over the mountains with kids in the back, and the prospect is ghastly. Every time.
Last time we went there over July 4th, I began to understand a little why Husband's family is practically reverent when it comes to the cabin. The family members themselves are wonderful people--smart, well-traveled, friendly, good cooks, lovers of my children. Spending almost a week with them over the 4th made me think of the cabin as just the setting for a long history of really good times with these people. Many of them have been vacationing there since they were children. Their parents have, too, because it's been in the family for 4 generations now.
This time, something else happened. Husband invited an old friend of his deceased mother's up from Knoxville to breakfast with us on Saturday. Knoxville is only a 45-minute drive, which is nothing in that part of the country, so they were pleased to make it. She--I'll call her Kathleen--knew Husband's mother for 60 years before she died. 60 years, y'all! After breakfast, when we were all chatting on the back porch, listening to the river rush by and drinking coffee, I asked Kathleen how she'd originally met Husband's mother.
And in an instant I got the clearest picture of a group of teenage girls piled into a big car, smoking illicit cigarettes, gossiping, laughing, the windows down and no seatbelts to keep them from turning around in the front seat to grin at their friends in the back. They'd be skinny because they all were back then, and wearing the modest bathing suits of the 1950's because that was the era, and because they were all good Southern girls, but they'd still feel the wind and sun extravagant on their skin and in their hair. They'd be talking in loud voices over the wind, excited to be on their own, out of church, heading towards a whole day at the river, the cabin and the water all to themselves. And then the cabin itself waiting empty for them, then full of them as they burst in. They'd run down to the water and shriek at the cold, nudge each other in, tripping over the smooth rocks, smoke on the bank if the cabin next door happened to be unoccupied that day. Later inside, they'd lounge with their legs up on furniture that was old even then, eating pears from the tree out front, talking til it was time to drive home.
Kathleen didn't tell me all that, and I never got the chance to hear B. talk about the cabin, but I could see it so clearly in my head. I understand how B. must've talked about that time in her life to her two sons, and how all the now-old cousins must talk about it to their children and grandchildren. I understand where Husband's love and yes, reverence, for this cabin comes from, and I understand why he wants our kids to go there and love it, too.
We would all be lucky indeed to have a place we loved like that, friends like that, memories like that.
Some of you know about my...how shall we say...dread? Horror? Anyways, my rather negative feelings about our annual excursion(s) to Husband's family cabin in Tennessee. If you're new to this blog, let me just explain that this cabin is beyond "rustic." It's more along the lines of "filthy" or even "squalid." I am no pansy when it comes to damp and dirt, like say on a camping trip or a long hike. Neither am I by any stretch of the imagination the keeper of an immaculate house. You know, someone who makes you take your shoes off at the door, someone who even scrubs the toilets regularly. But this cabin! The floor is so disgusting that I just can't bring myself to go barefoot. I wear socks instead, and after a couple of hours have passed, the sock bottoms are stiff and shiny with black filth. The mattresses and whatever horrible things fill the old dressers reek of mildew. I am physically uncomfortable when we have to lie down in one of the damp, stinky beds at night between sheets that will never get properly clean because it's just too moist there, and anyway the washing machine stinks, too. Factor in the 8-hour drive over the mountains with kids in the back, and the prospect is ghastly. Every time.
Last time we went there over July 4th, I began to understand a little why Husband's family is practically reverent when it comes to the cabin. The family members themselves are wonderful people--smart, well-traveled, friendly, good cooks, lovers of my children. Spending almost a week with them over the 4th made me think of the cabin as just the setting for a long history of really good times with these people. Many of them have been vacationing there since they were children. Their parents have, too, because it's been in the family for 4 generations now.
This time, something else happened. Husband invited an old friend of his deceased mother's up from Knoxville to breakfast with us on Saturday. Knoxville is only a 45-minute drive, which is nothing in that part of the country, so they were pleased to make it. She--I'll call her Kathleen--knew Husband's mother for 60 years before she died. 60 years, y'all! After breakfast, when we were all chatting on the back porch, listening to the river rush by and drinking coffee, I asked Kathleen how she'd originally met Husband's mother.
"Oh, gosh, I can hardly remember. It was in church, in Sunday school. We didn't attend the same grammar school, 'cause B. lived across town, but course we got along so well that we played together sometimes. Then we did go to the same high school. You know, B. and Nancy (another long time friend) were the only ones in our crowd who had a car in high school. So after church every Sunday--we'd have our bathing suits and our shorts with us--we'd leave church and come driving down here to the cabin. We'd stay here all day and swim and go tubing, and then drive back to Knoxville when it started to get dark."
And in an instant I got the clearest picture of a group of teenage girls piled into a big car, smoking illicit cigarettes, gossiping, laughing, the windows down and no seatbelts to keep them from turning around in the front seat to grin at their friends in the back. They'd be skinny because they all were back then, and wearing the modest bathing suits of the 1950's because that was the era, and because they were all good Southern girls, but they'd still feel the wind and sun extravagant on their skin and in their hair. They'd be talking in loud voices over the wind, excited to be on their own, out of church, heading towards a whole day at the river, the cabin and the water all to themselves. And then the cabin itself waiting empty for them, then full of them as they burst in. They'd run down to the water and shriek at the cold, nudge each other in, tripping over the smooth rocks, smoke on the bank if the cabin next door happened to be unoccupied that day. Later inside, they'd lounge with their legs up on furniture that was old even then, eating pears from the tree out front, talking til it was time to drive home.
Kathleen didn't tell me all that, and I never got the chance to hear B. talk about the cabin, but I could see it so clearly in my head. I understand how B. must've talked about that time in her life to her two sons, and how all the now-old cousins must talk about it to their children and grandchildren. I understand where Husband's love and yes, reverence, for this cabin comes from, and I understand why he wants our kids to go there and love it, too.
We would all be lucky indeed to have a place we loved like that, friends like that, memories like that.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Holiday sign-off
We're heading out of town for a long weekend in about an hour, driving one more time this year to Husband's family cabin in the Tennessee mountains. Because of Ernesto grazing the East coast, the weather is iffy, and therefore all activites usually associated with going to this cabin are iffy--tubing down the river, hiking, horse-back riding, going for walks, etc. We could very well be in for a long weekend of being holed up in a rather primitive and damn dirty cabin, trying to entertain 2 children who will be pissy indeed if they can't go play in the water when it's.right.there. Why are we going then? Please don't ask me. The cabin trip is Husband's gig. My newest strategy is to be as acquiescent as possible in the hopes that one day when the girls are old enough, I can beg off going to the cabin at all. It is SUCH a long-ass drive--8+ hours, the last couple of which are barfingly curvy. But I know I've complained about the cabin before...
No other news with regard to Husband's job. His new boss once again didn't come find him to sit down, though the president of the company did try to sound Husband out about his plans. We'll see when we get back, I suppose.
Off to finish packing and load up the car before we pick Sister up from school and get on the road. I'll probably be incommunicado up in them hills, but I do hope all you bloggers out there have a pleasant Labor Day holiday and don't get rained out by the storm. Cheers, y'all!
No other news with regard to Husband's job. His new boss once again didn't come find him to sit down, though the president of the company did try to sound Husband out about his plans. We'll see when we get back, I suppose.
Off to finish packing and load up the car before we pick Sister up from school and get on the road. I'll probably be incommunicado up in them hills, but I do hope all you bloggers out there have a pleasant Labor Day holiday and don't get rained out by the storm. Cheers, y'all!
Thursday, August 31, 2006
The day only half over...
I just called Husband for an update. He was not fired this morning, and neither was anyone else. But he's considering quitting this afternoon when he meets with the new boss one-on-one. Depends on the boss' attitude, I think. Or on what kind of mood Husband is in when the boss asks if Husband will be able to work with him and for him. I'm not quite sure what to hope for now. Maybe something along these lines:
In other news, the recycling contained a stack of newspapers, a crushed gallon container of organic low-fat milk, one empty fifth of Scotch, and one empty gallon of gin this morning. And me with my car in the shop today, unable to run to the liquor store. Meh. Even worse is that the mechanic estimated the repairs at somewhere between $470 and $600. But he'd call me if it was going to be more than $600. Wonder if he'd run to the liquor store for me for an extra $50.
Clearly, this day is a loss. Think I'll go watch some recorded episodes of "The Colbert Report" and work on Sister's quilt now. Nudge me when it's 2:15 and I need to wake the baby and get Sister from school.
He'll quit this afternoon, but it won't be this big, inflammed scene that will leave a bad taste in everyone's mouth and inspire nasty comments about his work there when other potential employers call for a reference in the future. He'll figure out in the next month exactly what sort of business he'd like to start for himself, he'll find a few others he gets along with brilliantly who think it's a fabulous idea, they'll all decide to work together and feel inspired to go to work every single day, and they'll all make tons of money doing it.Yeah. Something like that would be nice.
In other news, the recycling contained a stack of newspapers, a crushed gallon container of organic low-fat milk, one empty fifth of Scotch, and one empty gallon of gin this morning. And me with my car in the shop today, unable to run to the liquor store. Meh. Even worse is that the mechanic estimated the repairs at somewhere between $470 and $600. But he'd call me if it was going to be more than $600. Wonder if he'd run to the liquor store for me for an extra $50.
Clearly, this day is a loss. Think I'll go watch some recorded episodes of "The Colbert Report" and work on Sister's quilt now. Nudge me when it's 2:15 and I need to wake the baby and get Sister from school.
Potential bad news this morning
Husband left the house at 6:45 a.m. this morning. He was going to un-decorate his cube at work, probably save things to disk from his work computer, sort through files and papers and all the stuff on his desk. Husband thinks it's very likely that he and his entire department are all going to be fired this morning by their new boss. This because the new boss flew in from Canada yesterday for his first day of work and refused to make eye contact with Husband or any of his employees. Refused to meet them or talk to them at all, in fact. And at the end of the day, another manager came into their work area and said that they all needed to be at work at 9:00 a.m. this morning to meet with him. Things don't look good.
I'm trying not to be too stressed about it. Husband has been talking about making a change for well over a year now. He doesn't like this new guy and the direction the company is going. He'd like to work for himself, he thinks, and not have to deal with sucky office politics. Financially, we'll be o.k. for awhile, so if it had to happen I'm glad it's now and not last year some time. (If it had happened then, the situation would quickly have become desperate with me newly out of work.) But still. Husband's worked there for the last four years and I'm pissed off for him that some new guy, younger than him and so very new to the company, could just walk in and fire him.
I'm waiting to hear from Husband now. He should be getting out of his meeting soon and will call me to give me the news.
I'm trying not to be too stressed about it. Husband has been talking about making a change for well over a year now. He doesn't like this new guy and the direction the company is going. He'd like to work for himself, he thinks, and not have to deal with sucky office politics. Financially, we'll be o.k. for awhile, so if it had to happen I'm glad it's now and not last year some time. (If it had happened then, the situation would quickly have become desperate with me newly out of work.) But still. Husband's worked there for the last four years and I'm pissed off for him that some new guy, younger than him and so very new to the company, could just walk in and fire him.
I'm waiting to hear from Husband now. He should be getting out of his meeting soon and will call me to give me the news.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Out of sorts
It's only day 4 of Sister's being back at school, but I'm feeling a bit out of sorts. Maybe it's because this house is still so new? Maybe it's that I have no garden yet in which to putter? Maybe it's because my usual choice of activity with Bean for a few weeks now has been to go shop for one house-related thing or another? Don't know. I just feel like the day yawns like a bottomless pit most mornings and afternoons. It's hard to figure out just what exactly to do with my time. It's not free time, mind you, but time that needs to be spent entertaining a baby and keeping a household running.
To that end, I told myself this morning that it was high time I start getting back to the gym again. Bean is 16 months old now and should be able to handle being away from me a few times a week for an hour or so, right? Right. So I tried introducing her to the gym daycare this morning, thinking I'd take it slow and leave her there for 20 minutes while I went to pee and maybe read a magazine out of sight in the hallway nearby. No dice. I set her up with some toys, told her bye while she still seemed happily occupied, and went to the bathroom. When I came back exactly five minutes later I could hear her wailing from down the hall. Thought I'd let the sweet, capable college girls do their job and give it a few more minutes, but...nope. Bean lasted exactly 10 whole minutes in the gym daycare before I had to rescue her. We played together there for the next 15 minutes and I took her home while she still wanted to stay and play, so maybe she'll be pleased to go back soon. But maybe I should've thought of doing this long before 16 months old. There were 8-month olds there, all nonchalant at the prospect of hanging out with a roomful of toys and other kids to play with without their moms around. Not my baby, though.
I have GOT to start doing something for myself. I hate to keep beating the dead horse that I've been beating for the last several months, but don't all you SAHM's out there feel like your days are spent cooking, cleaning up, running some errand, cooking, cleaning up, squeezing some stupid chore in during naptime, making snacks, cleaning up, helping with homework, cooking, cleaning up, and going to bed for not enough sleep every damn day?
And yeah, we're thinking of having a third child soon. I suppose there's something to be said for getting it out of the way and having all the hard, early years be concentrated together. Isn't there?
To that end, I told myself this morning that it was high time I start getting back to the gym again. Bean is 16 months old now and should be able to handle being away from me a few times a week for an hour or so, right? Right. So I tried introducing her to the gym daycare this morning, thinking I'd take it slow and leave her there for 20 minutes while I went to pee and maybe read a magazine out of sight in the hallway nearby. No dice. I set her up with some toys, told her bye while she still seemed happily occupied, and went to the bathroom. When I came back exactly five minutes later I could hear her wailing from down the hall. Thought I'd let the sweet, capable college girls do their job and give it a few more minutes, but...nope. Bean lasted exactly 10 whole minutes in the gym daycare before I had to rescue her. We played together there for the next 15 minutes and I took her home while she still wanted to stay and play, so maybe she'll be pleased to go back soon. But maybe I should've thought of doing this long before 16 months old. There were 8-month olds there, all nonchalant at the prospect of hanging out with a roomful of toys and other kids to play with without their moms around. Not my baby, though.
I have GOT to start doing something for myself. I hate to keep beating the dead horse that I've been beating for the last several months, but don't all you SAHM's out there feel like your days are spent cooking, cleaning up, running some errand, cooking, cleaning up, squeezing some stupid chore in during naptime, making snacks, cleaning up, helping with homework, cooking, cleaning up, and going to bed for not enough sleep every damn day?
And yeah, we're thinking of having a third child soon. I suppose there's something to be said for getting it out of the way and having all the hard, early years be concentrated together. Isn't there?
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
The afterschool grind resumes
So Sister's in third grade now, as of last week, and we're settling into our afternoon routine all over again. We walk home from school, have a snack, dismantle the backpack contents, start on homework. I'm beginning to get alarm bells about the homework all of a sudden, though. I've never thought of myself as bad at math--except for maybe high school calculus which I nearly flunked--but just what the hell are "fact families" and "addends?" THAT"S third grade math?! I had to look it up on-line so as not to embarass myself calling her teacher. I honestly had no clue at all.
Maybe I should be reading ahead or something. Sheesh.
Maybe I should be reading ahead or something. Sheesh.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Day 3, going, going...
This is the next installment of a little program I like to call, "It Really Sucks That My Husband Has to Travel for Work." Last night, I had to get up with a non-sleeping, screaming Bean at least 7 times. I think it was even more than just 7 times, but I was so deliriously tired, not to mention absolutely livid at the injustice of it, that I lost count by around 7. By 3:00 a.m. I made the executive decision to stop getting out of bed to comfort her. I turned off her monitor, told her to please be sleepy, closed her door, and closed my door. She cried awhile longer, but I could only barely hear her, so I was able to go back to sleep a few more hours. She was still alive this morning so it appears that this was an o.k. thing to do.
Then while I was out getting some groceries a little while ago and returned lugging my 27# baby plus heavy bags of milk gallons and canned beans and tomatoes and the like, I discovered that our new outdoor sofa had been delivered. The UPS guy had very helpfully deposited it on our front stoop, blocking the front door. Probably thought he was doing me a favor getting up the steps or something.
Have I said how much it sucks that my Husband is out of town just now? Wish me luck as I try to make it through the rest of this particularly damnable day...
Then while I was out getting some groceries a little while ago and returned lugging my 27# baby plus heavy bags of milk gallons and canned beans and tomatoes and the like, I discovered that our new outdoor sofa had been delivered. The UPS guy had very helpfully deposited it on our front stoop, blocking the front door. Probably thought he was doing me a favor getting up the steps or something.
Have I said how much it sucks that my Husband is out of town just now? Wish me luck as I try to make it through the rest of this particularly damnable day...
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Day 2 done
No real time to blog just now, but I'm procrastinating a bit while I finish a cocktail, so why not?
It's been a hectic evening after a lovely day in which a good friend came over with her daughter. We ate a lunch that included many tater tots, followed up by chocolate cake. We talked a lot, and I REALLY needed to have someone to talk to today that wasn't asking me for popsicles and ideas for fun things to do and cartoons to be turned on and a cup of juice, etc. This fabulous friend of mine even watched both the girls while I ran out to pick up a bookshelf for Sister's room I'd bought yesterday and then helped me haul it up the stairs when I returned. She rocks!
But after she left, the day kind of crashed. Or I kind of crashed. There was a meet-the-teacher ice cream social to attend, the dog to walk, dinner to make, the screaming baby to appease, neighbors to reconnect with since we'll all be walking to school together tomorrow, children to bathe, dishes to wash, etc. I remained in a foul mood for most of the evening, struggling valiantly not to yell at the girls. Okay, actually struggling valiantly to stop yelling at the girls, counting down the minutes til it would be seemly to pour myself a drink for chrissakes! Sigh.
But they're both peacefully asleep now, and my own curling up in cozy bed is within reach. All I need to do first is fold the laundry, pack a lunch, empty the dishwasher, take a shower...
I'll be so glad when Husband gets home. Just 3 more days.
It's been a hectic evening after a lovely day in which a good friend came over with her daughter. We ate a lunch that included many tater tots, followed up by chocolate cake. We talked a lot, and I REALLY needed to have someone to talk to today that wasn't asking me for popsicles and ideas for fun things to do and cartoons to be turned on and a cup of juice, etc. This fabulous friend of mine even watched both the girls while I ran out to pick up a bookshelf for Sister's room I'd bought yesterday and then helped me haul it up the stairs when I returned. She rocks!
But after she left, the day kind of crashed. Or I kind of crashed. There was a meet-the-teacher ice cream social to attend, the dog to walk, dinner to make, the screaming baby to appease, neighbors to reconnect with since we'll all be walking to school together tomorrow, children to bathe, dishes to wash, etc. I remained in a foul mood for most of the evening, struggling valiantly not to yell at the girls. Okay, actually struggling valiantly to stop yelling at the girls, counting down the minutes til it would be seemly to pour myself a drink for chrissakes! Sigh.
But they're both peacefully asleep now, and my own curling up in cozy bed is within reach. All I need to do first is fold the laundry, pack a lunch, empty the dishwasher, take a shower...
I'll be so glad when Husband gets home. Just 3 more days.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Slightly drunkish ponderings
Alone with the kids both gone to bed and slightly drunkish--is there any more wonderful state of mind than that? I don't think so. Not on this earth anyway.
Sister and I just finished up a late showing of "The Man From Snowy River." Did anybody else besides me totally go nuts over this movie as a girl? Probably not. I must've seen it a dozen times, and I can't say that about ANY other movie, even 35 years old as I am and obviously well advanced into the era of VCR's and DVD's and HBO. Even now, the scenes of the hero, Jim, riding his horse over a cliff in Australia--or is it just a real steep hill? Do they have cliffs in Australia?--to go round up both his own escaped horse and the rich boss' expensive colt gave me goosebumps. Goosebumps! I mean, through the gin here, y'all! But I was one of those horse-loving girls who had no good reason to love horses, having spent my formative years in Miami.
Is there anyone of a Freudian bent out there who knows why there are some girls who go horse-y, but no boys doing this generally? Aw, I'm probly obsolete as hell in the era of video games anyway...
Sister and I just finished up a late showing of "The Man From Snowy River." Did anybody else besides me totally go nuts over this movie as a girl? Probably not. I must've seen it a dozen times, and I can't say that about ANY other movie, even 35 years old as I am and obviously well advanced into the era of VCR's and DVD's and HBO. Even now, the scenes of the hero, Jim, riding his horse over a cliff in Australia--or is it just a real steep hill? Do they have cliffs in Australia?--to go round up both his own escaped horse and the rich boss' expensive colt gave me goosebumps. Goosebumps! I mean, through the gin here, y'all! But I was one of those horse-loving girls who had no good reason to love horses, having spent my formative years in Miami.
Is there anyone of a Freudian bent out there who knows why there are some girls who go horse-y, but no boys doing this generally? Aw, I'm probly obsolete as hell in the era of video games anyway...
Single mama
The secret cave is rather subdued today. Husband left town this morning for 5 days in Canada, on a work trip with about a dozen other co-workers. Even if it has been difficult for me to talk to him a lot recently, I miss him already. He's been gone exactly...hmmm, looks like a whopping 5-1/2 hours so far. I'm sure I'll be missing him even more this evening when I've got to cook dinner while Bean clings to my legs and Sister sighs around the kitchen, complaining about him being gone. 5 days with no back-up! 5 days without mi esposo! I suspect cocktail hour will come a little earlier than usual, and perhaps last a little longer while he's gone.
But fortunately, a woman from Bean's birth class came over with her little boy a little while ago. She and her husband are the only people we've kept in touch with from that class, and we like them very much indeed. Not only do we have kids the same age, but this fabulous woman brought fresh pastries! Plus, she made me a present of a beautiful, pink glass, antique rolling pin that she thought I would like. So that helped me out of my self-pitying mood quite a bit this morning. Grown-up company, happy children, AND presents--how could I remain in a funk?
The trick is for me to stay busy, I think. Maybe I'll get around to working on Sister's long-neglected bed quilt while my evenings are yawning this empty and spouse-less...
But fortunately, a woman from Bean's birth class came over with her little boy a little while ago. She and her husband are the only people we've kept in touch with from that class, and we like them very much indeed. Not only do we have kids the same age, but this fabulous woman brought fresh pastries! Plus, she made me a present of a beautiful, pink glass, antique rolling pin that she thought I would like. So that helped me out of my self-pitying mood quite a bit this morning. Grown-up company, happy children, AND presents--how could I remain in a funk?
The trick is for me to stay busy, I think. Maybe I'll get around to working on Sister's long-neglected bed quilt while my evenings are yawning this empty and spouse-less...
Monday, August 21, 2006
Equivalencies
Announcement: Husband and I are in zero danger of getting a divorce! Just so everyone knows. From a few comments I got on yesterday's pity party of a post, I believe I left it ambiguous about whether I wanted to stay married to my dear spouse. I do, really! It's just that some days are harder than others. Some days are so hard, in fact. And a weekend where I still have to mind Bean for most of her waking hours because Husband needs to get his whole to-do list done before he leaves town for 5 days is even harder than usual. I don't plan on getting divorced a second time, but thanks to everyone who was concerned that I would.
Now on to other marriage-related ponderings. Tonight I was thinking about all the trade-offs I put together mentally in every day. Things like, "If I go get a haircut and Husband stays with the girls, I could get an hour to myself, but then the house will be trashed. Is it worth it?" (The answer to that one is always yes.) Or, "If Husband and I have really great sex tonight, will he let me sleep in tomorrow? Should I risk losing the sleep now 'cause he might refuse to budge when the baby cries?" (Often I risk the sleep and of course feel pleased that I did, whoever gets up with the baby.) Or, "If I take Bean to the damn park while it's 95 degrees outside, she'll probably run around enough to take an extra-long nap and let me get x, y, or z done. But it's SO hot. Is it worth it?" (Usually not.)
Today, there were a series of them to consider back to back. And they're so complicated sometimes!
"My friend is in town from Mexico and wants to come over for lunch and an interview for a book she's working on. If I say yes and schedule while Bean is sleeping, Bean is bound to miss out on her afternoon run-around 'cause we'll still be too busy catching up when she wakes. Will Bean be entertained and peaceful by the mere presence of my seldom-seen friend and not scream her head off? Does the adult conversation make it worth it even if she's freaking out?" (Ohmigod, YES!)
"Does going to the book store--which is out of the way but which has an enormous basket of stuffed animals and many throwable, stompable board books--before going to the grocery store mean that Bean will spend a little energy there and not throw fits during grocery shopping when she can't have cookie after free cookie or balloon after free balloon?" (Apparently not.)
"If I let Husband take over with the pajama donning and hair brushing while I get on my own p.j.'s and pour myself a drink, can anything terribly messy possibly happen in those few minutes?" (Oh yes! Husband can give Bean a whole apple of her own to augment her paltry, thrown-about dinner and Bean can spit each and every chewed up bite onto the porch floor for the roaches and ants to come find later if it's left uncleaned. I find this dismaying in the extreme when I happen upon it. Husband watches this with glee, though, both because his baby girl is cutely proud that she has her very own apple to eat, and because he just bought a new shop-vac that he's desperate to try out. I swear, I wasn't gone longer than 10 minutes!)
This is one of those mental skills I find I've become proficient in since I became a mom. The calculations take only a few seconds, though I may not always be able to predict the outcome.
Today, though, I mostly feel like I came out ahead. Funny what a little grown-up company can do for a mama's state of mind.
Now on to other marriage-related ponderings. Tonight I was thinking about all the trade-offs I put together mentally in every day. Things like, "If I go get a haircut and Husband stays with the girls, I could get an hour to myself, but then the house will be trashed. Is it worth it?" (The answer to that one is always yes.) Or, "If Husband and I have really great sex tonight, will he let me sleep in tomorrow? Should I risk losing the sleep now 'cause he might refuse to budge when the baby cries?" (Often I risk the sleep and of course feel pleased that I did, whoever gets up with the baby.) Or, "If I take Bean to the damn park while it's 95 degrees outside, she'll probably run around enough to take an extra-long nap and let me get x, y, or z done. But it's SO hot. Is it worth it?" (Usually not.)
Today, there were a series of them to consider back to back. And they're so complicated sometimes!
"My friend is in town from Mexico and wants to come over for lunch and an interview for a book she's working on. If I say yes and schedule while Bean is sleeping, Bean is bound to miss out on her afternoon run-around 'cause we'll still be too busy catching up when she wakes. Will Bean be entertained and peaceful by the mere presence of my seldom-seen friend and not scream her head off? Does the adult conversation make it worth it even if she's freaking out?" (Ohmigod, YES!)
"Does going to the book store--which is out of the way but which has an enormous basket of stuffed animals and many throwable, stompable board books--before going to the grocery store mean that Bean will spend a little energy there and not throw fits during grocery shopping when she can't have cookie after free cookie or balloon after free balloon?" (Apparently not.)
"If I let Husband take over with the pajama donning and hair brushing while I get on my own p.j.'s and pour myself a drink, can anything terribly messy possibly happen in those few minutes?" (Oh yes! Husband can give Bean a whole apple of her own to augment her paltry, thrown-about dinner and Bean can spit each and every chewed up bite onto the porch floor for the roaches and ants to come find later if it's left uncleaned. I find this dismaying in the extreme when I happen upon it. Husband watches this with glee, though, both because his baby girl is cutely proud that she has her very own apple to eat, and because he just bought a new shop-vac that he's desperate to try out. I swear, I wasn't gone longer than 10 minutes!)
This is one of those mental skills I find I've become proficient in since I became a mom. The calculations take only a few seconds, though I may not always be able to predict the outcome.
Today, though, I mostly feel like I came out ahead. Funny what a little grown-up company can do for a mama's state of mind.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Time out question explained, plus much emotional hand-wringing that you can skip because it's not the least bit amusing
So the other day I solicited some advice from you helpful mamas out there and said I'd tell you why I asked later. It seemed like a big damn deal at the time, but not so much now. The issue that particular night was that Husband tried to put Bean in a time out in the corner of the family room for throwing food from her high chair. It's something we're trying with mixed success to make her understand is a no-no lately. Husband warned her that she would go in time out if she did it again, she did, and he pulled her up screaming from her high chair to go enforce it. She's 16-months old so naturally she wouldn't stay put and I don't feel like it's quite time for this particular tactic to work with her. I'm willing to go along with it if Husband wants to give it a shot though. After all, it will eventually start to work.
Anyways. On this particular night, what also happened is that Husband got extremely pissed off at me for trying to fix Bean's sliding off diaper while she was supposed to be in time out. Having actually had her poop on the floor while her diaper was off for a mere 20 seconds once, I do tend to hustle if I see diaper slippage. I in no way meant it as undermining Husband's authority, which is how he took it that night. So I received a ridiculous lecture in which it was hard for me not to respond with, "What the fuck are you talking about?" But I let myself be lectured and just tried to cool off on my own when he took the girls up for a bath shortly afterwards.
Husband and I are having a hard time communicating lately, though, and to me that is a big deal. He has this way of talking to me that makes me feel like either a complete moron or like an out-of-control emotional freak. I am neither of those things. I've tried explaining that he makes me feel stupid when he's talking to me in a particular way, but he brushes it off completely, just denying that that could possibly be true. Fine. But I suspect that I'll continue to feel this way until I go back to work at some point and don't feel quite like the unappreciated domestic drudge I currently do a lot of the time. Nothing like a "reminder" about how to wash his running clothes made of "special moisture-wicking" fabric from Husband to make me wonder why I ever signed on for this SAHM gig. I swear, I hear shit like this far more than I ever did when I was working a paid job.
The other mode is harder. I do tend to get emotional when I'm angry or upset. 'Cause those are...you know, emotions, right? I have a quick temper and was raised in a household where it was normal to express your emotions if you were feeling them. Having an angry expression on your face means you must be mad. Talking more loudly than usual means you're feeling strongly about something or you're trying to be heard because someone's talking over you. These things don't mean you're about to throw something or lash out physically in some way. In short, arguments are o.k. and are a sometimes necessary means of clearing the air. They don't mean that a divorce is imminent or that someone's about to be punched.
I dunno. Sometimes I wonder how long I'll be able to stand feeling this demoralized. Sometimes I feel like all I need to do is get a few nights in a row of good sleep. Sometimes I think counselling would help. Sometimes I'm just dying to be totally alone for a day or so. Some days it seems like I'll rip my hair out and go screaming down the street if someone says one more rude, ungrateful thing to me. Some days I think my life couldn't possibly be any sweeter. Lately I wonder if it's really such a good idea to have one more baby and put off being in the emotional clear for that many more years. But I also long to be pregnant and nursing just once more and to give Bean a sibling that doesn't leave for half the week.
I got divorced once and was raised by a woman who was married 3 times before she finally got it right, so I'm no expert when it comes to knowing what's normal in marriage. I do want to stay married this time, though. I know that much.
Anyways. On this particular night, what also happened is that Husband got extremely pissed off at me for trying to fix Bean's sliding off diaper while she was supposed to be in time out. Having actually had her poop on the floor while her diaper was off for a mere 20 seconds once, I do tend to hustle if I see diaper slippage. I in no way meant it as undermining Husband's authority, which is how he took it that night. So I received a ridiculous lecture in which it was hard for me not to respond with, "What the fuck are you talking about?" But I let myself be lectured and just tried to cool off on my own when he took the girls up for a bath shortly afterwards.
Husband and I are having a hard time communicating lately, though, and to me that is a big deal. He has this way of talking to me that makes me feel like either a complete moron or like an out-of-control emotional freak. I am neither of those things. I've tried explaining that he makes me feel stupid when he's talking to me in a particular way, but he brushes it off completely, just denying that that could possibly be true. Fine. But I suspect that I'll continue to feel this way until I go back to work at some point and don't feel quite like the unappreciated domestic drudge I currently do a lot of the time. Nothing like a "reminder" about how to wash his running clothes made of "special moisture-wicking" fabric from Husband to make me wonder why I ever signed on for this SAHM gig. I swear, I hear shit like this far more than I ever did when I was working a paid job.
The other mode is harder. I do tend to get emotional when I'm angry or upset. 'Cause those are...you know, emotions, right? I have a quick temper and was raised in a household where it was normal to express your emotions if you were feeling them. Having an angry expression on your face means you must be mad. Talking more loudly than usual means you're feeling strongly about something or you're trying to be heard because someone's talking over you. These things don't mean you're about to throw something or lash out physically in some way. In short, arguments are o.k. and are a sometimes necessary means of clearing the air. They don't mean that a divorce is imminent or that someone's about to be punched.
I dunno. Sometimes I wonder how long I'll be able to stand feeling this demoralized. Sometimes I feel like all I need to do is get a few nights in a row of good sleep. Sometimes I think counselling would help. Sometimes I'm just dying to be totally alone for a day or so. Some days it seems like I'll rip my hair out and go screaming down the street if someone says one more rude, ungrateful thing to me. Some days I think my life couldn't possibly be any sweeter. Lately I wonder if it's really such a good idea to have one more baby and put off being in the emotional clear for that many more years. But I also long to be pregnant and nursing just once more and to give Bean a sibling that doesn't leave for half the week.
I got divorced once and was raised by a woman who was married 3 times before she finally got it right, so I'm no expert when it comes to knowing what's normal in marriage. I do want to stay married this time, though. I know that much.
Friday, August 18, 2006
That word we don't say
Is it possible that I loathe my ex-mother-in-law now even MORE than I did when I was married to her son? Very, very possible.
She called me earlier today to ask for a slight change in Sister's schedule. They're taking Sister rafting over the weekend, she said, and wondered if it would be o.k. to bring her back to my house 3 or 4 hours later than usual. Once you get past the wondering why the hell my ex-MIL could possibly feel it was her place to request changes to my custody agreement with her son, this wouldn't be a big deal at all. What's a few hours, right? Except that her son and I got into a huge fight last week over this very same issue. Just a few short days ago, he wouldn't agree that it was o.k. for me to bring Sister back a few hours later than usual from a trip unless I agreed that he would get an extra overnight stay with her.
I pointed this out to his mother, just to make sure she knew about it, but followed up saying that really a few hours wasn't a big deal, was it? She tried to launch into an explanation of why it was different for them than it was for me, but I stopped her, saying cheerfully, "I don't feel like discussing this all over again. I just want you to know that I don't think a few hours makes that much of a difference. It's really no problem at all. Bye!" And I got off the phone shaking with rage, but pleased that I hadn't gotten into it on the phone with her and had sounded like a reasonable, sane, even magnanimous person.
Because when it comes to that woman, I certainly don't feel like a reasonable, sane, or remotely magnanimous person. Furthermore, I know that this will never go away. I will be living with this intense jealousy, this fiercely frustrating sense that I have no control over the situation, and an instantaneous flare up of bitterness whenever I think of this woman competing with me over influence with Sister for at least the next 10 years, if not longer. Because that's what this is, y'all. My ex-MIL is competing with me over my own daughter.
Lest you chalk this up to the paranoid delusions of the control freak I'll admit that I am, let me explain a couple things I know about her. She has 3 children, 2 sons of her own and one adopted daughter. When I was newly married to her son, she gushingly told me one day that she had always longed for a daughter, and that I was going to be that daughter. (Never mind that I had a mother I was perfectly happy with.) Her adopted daughter had never been close to her, and wasn't quite what she had in mind, really, when she and her husband had first thought to adopt a girl child. She said this to me. In those words. I am not kidding.
She also told an entire room full of well wishers at my bridal shower that she was glad that I was so "competent" because her son really wasn't. He really needed someone to take care of things in his life, because he just wasn't up to the task. She was glad I was taking over this for her. (Can I get a witness, Mommygoth?) Again, those were her words. She wasn't even joking about it.
So basically, what I extrapolate from this is that since I didn't stick around to be the longed-for daughter, and since her son can't really deal with such practical details of Sister's care as cooking meals, shopping for clothes, being employed in order to pay for a roof over her head, this woman has taken over when Sister is supposedly in my Ex's care. I am Sister's mother, of course, but what is Sister's grandmother when she's acting in the capacity of a parent almost 50% of the time?
It is NOT a situation in which I can act with the least modicum of personal grace. My own mother raised me to "rise above it" and "be better than they are" when I found myself in a shitty situation. This is still excellent advice all these years later, but I can't seem to follow it now. When it comes to my own child, I am filled with real, teeth-baring, blinding hate for anyone who threatens her attatchment to me.
Therapy as an antidote is just laughable.
She called me earlier today to ask for a slight change in Sister's schedule. They're taking Sister rafting over the weekend, she said, and wondered if it would be o.k. to bring her back to my house 3 or 4 hours later than usual. Once you get past the wondering why the hell my ex-MIL could possibly feel it was her place to request changes to my custody agreement with her son, this wouldn't be a big deal at all. What's a few hours, right? Except that her son and I got into a huge fight last week over this very same issue. Just a few short days ago, he wouldn't agree that it was o.k. for me to bring Sister back a few hours later than usual from a trip unless I agreed that he would get an extra overnight stay with her.
I pointed this out to his mother, just to make sure she knew about it, but followed up saying that really a few hours wasn't a big deal, was it? She tried to launch into an explanation of why it was different for them than it was for me, but I stopped her, saying cheerfully, "I don't feel like discussing this all over again. I just want you to know that I don't think a few hours makes that much of a difference. It's really no problem at all. Bye!" And I got off the phone shaking with rage, but pleased that I hadn't gotten into it on the phone with her and had sounded like a reasonable, sane, even magnanimous person.
Because when it comes to that woman, I certainly don't feel like a reasonable, sane, or remotely magnanimous person. Furthermore, I know that this will never go away. I will be living with this intense jealousy, this fiercely frustrating sense that I have no control over the situation, and an instantaneous flare up of bitterness whenever I think of this woman competing with me over influence with Sister for at least the next 10 years, if not longer. Because that's what this is, y'all. My ex-MIL is competing with me over my own daughter.
Lest you chalk this up to the paranoid delusions of the control freak I'll admit that I am, let me explain a couple things I know about her. She has 3 children, 2 sons of her own and one adopted daughter. When I was newly married to her son, she gushingly told me one day that she had always longed for a daughter, and that I was going to be that daughter. (Never mind that I had a mother I was perfectly happy with.) Her adopted daughter had never been close to her, and wasn't quite what she had in mind, really, when she and her husband had first thought to adopt a girl child. She said this to me. In those words. I am not kidding.
She also told an entire room full of well wishers at my bridal shower that she was glad that I was so "competent" because her son really wasn't. He really needed someone to take care of things in his life, because he just wasn't up to the task. She was glad I was taking over this for her. (Can I get a witness, Mommygoth?) Again, those were her words. She wasn't even joking about it.
So basically, what I extrapolate from this is that since I didn't stick around to be the longed-for daughter, and since her son can't really deal with such practical details of Sister's care as cooking meals, shopping for clothes, being employed in order to pay for a roof over her head, this woman has taken over when Sister is supposedly in my Ex's care. I am Sister's mother, of course, but what is Sister's grandmother when she's acting in the capacity of a parent almost 50% of the time?
It is NOT a situation in which I can act with the least modicum of personal grace. My own mother raised me to "rise above it" and "be better than they are" when I found myself in a shitty situation. This is still excellent advice all these years later, but I can't seem to follow it now. When it comes to my own child, I am filled with real, teeth-baring, blinding hate for anyone who threatens her attatchment to me.
Therapy as an antidote is just laughable.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Quick question
Okay, I need some input from all you experienced mamas out there. I'm posing a question without telling you which side of it I fall on, hoping to get some unbiased opinions here.
True or false? A 16-month old child is not too young to be disciplined using time-outs for infractions like hitting or throwing food on the floor.
Please discuss. I'll let you know what brought it up in a day or 2.
True or false? A 16-month old child is not too young to be disciplined using time-outs for infractions like hitting or throwing food on the floor.
Please discuss. I'll let you know what brought it up in a day or 2.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Summer cometh before the fall
Autumn is on its way. Know how I know that? Not because we've been having nighttime temperatures in the low 70's and 60's lately here in sweltering NC. Not because the tulip poplars and dogwood trees have begun subtly changing their leaf colors. Not even 'cause I have a calendar and can do the math myself. No, the reason I know fall is coming is because this morning found me toting 2-9 X 13 sausage and mushrom breakfast stratas and 24 oatmeal and dried cherry muffins to Sister's school for the teacher appreciation breakfast. At 7:20.
And school doesn't even start til next Friday.
Just my way of kicking off a very busy school year, y'all! Let me bend your ear here with my idiocy. I've signed up for no less than 3 PTA committees, roped in by 2 new and friendly PTA co-presidents who use free wine to make parents do things they would not otherwise EVER consider in their right and sober minds. I decided to be one of the co-leaders of Sister's Brownie troop, in the wild and probably wildly stupid hope that it would be easier and less-stressful than being the cookie mom. I have also repented my former position of not signing Sister up for "too many" activities because kids should have proper childhoods, dammit, and have plenty of free time to lie around and read and imagine stuff and not be pushed into being super-achievers too early. I have repented because this has meant that I signed Sister up for exactly NOTHING last year (except twice a month Brownies), and I get the feeling she's bored and making trouble with me to spice things up for herself. I have, therefore, signed her up for twice a week swim class, and am waiting to hear if this local farm camp place can also fit her in for horse-back riding one day a week.
I'm in for it. Joining the ranks of the freak-out busy moms--I mean the REALLY freak-out busy moms--who forget they have hobbies and interests and sex and sleep to fit in, too.
I'll keep y'all posted.
And school doesn't even start til next Friday.
Just my way of kicking off a very busy school year, y'all! Let me bend your ear here with my idiocy. I've signed up for no less than 3 PTA committees, roped in by 2 new and friendly PTA co-presidents who use free wine to make parents do things they would not otherwise EVER consider in their right and sober minds. I decided to be one of the co-leaders of Sister's Brownie troop, in the wild and probably wildly stupid hope that it would be easier and less-stressful than being the cookie mom. I have also repented my former position of not signing Sister up for "too many" activities because kids should have proper childhoods, dammit, and have plenty of free time to lie around and read and imagine stuff and not be pushed into being super-achievers too early. I have repented because this has meant that I signed Sister up for exactly NOTHING last year (except twice a month Brownies), and I get the feeling she's bored and making trouble with me to spice things up for herself. I have, therefore, signed her up for twice a week swim class, and am waiting to hear if this local farm camp place can also fit her in for horse-back riding one day a week.
I'm in for it. Joining the ranks of the freak-out busy moms--I mean the REALLY freak-out busy moms--who forget they have hobbies and interests and sex and sleep to fit in, too.
I'll keep y'all posted.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Garden, take 2
I just returned from a late walk with the dog, doing the usual circuit around the block to get him settled in for the evening. As I approached our old house in the dusk, our former next-door neighbor approached from the opposite direction, smiling at me in the semi-dark. The first thing she said to me was, "Boy, I bet you're sad to see so many of your plants dying there. I don't think they've watered them at all!"
My poor garden! There are several things crisp beyond hope now: a variegated hydrangea that brightened up a dark corner of the yard under an old crepe myrtle, my huge, purple-flowered butterfly bush, a large (and expensive) angel's trumpet that I put in just this year, a stand of lavender-flowered phlox, a perennial geranium...and the list goes on.
Husband ran into the new owners on the street last week and actually volunteered to loan them a sprinkler. They declined, saying they had one, but were just so overwhelmed with the move that they hadn't gotten to it, felt terribly guilty about it, planned to water everything at their first opportunity, blah blah blah. It's been 2 weeks now and my beautiful garden is probably at least half-dead. If I'd know they were going to totally neglect it I would have dug some stuff up and taken my chances with replanting in the summer heat at the new place. At least I would've watered them! This is very sad to me.
Today I went into the way-back of our yard for the first time ever. For some mysterious reason, the previous owners of this house fenced in only part of the full back yard, excluding a good third of the space back there--very puzzling. Anyways, it's a small jungle behind the fence, as I verified this morning. The to-do list we'll have to get started on to even make the space for a new backyard garden is too overwhelming to even think about for very long. It goes something like this:
My poor garden! There are several things crisp beyond hope now: a variegated hydrangea that brightened up a dark corner of the yard under an old crepe myrtle, my huge, purple-flowered butterfly bush, a large (and expensive) angel's trumpet that I put in just this year, a stand of lavender-flowered phlox, a perennial geranium...and the list goes on.
Husband ran into the new owners on the street last week and actually volunteered to loan them a sprinkler. They declined, saying they had one, but were just so overwhelmed with the move that they hadn't gotten to it, felt terribly guilty about it, planned to water everything at their first opportunity, blah blah blah. It's been 2 weeks now and my beautiful garden is probably at least half-dead. If I'd know they were going to totally neglect it I would have dug some stuff up and taken my chances with replanting in the summer heat at the new place. At least I would've watered them! This is very sad to me.
Today I went into the way-back of our yard for the first time ever. For some mysterious reason, the previous owners of this house fenced in only part of the full back yard, excluding a good third of the space back there--very puzzling. Anyways, it's a small jungle behind the fence, as I verified this morning. The to-do list we'll have to get started on to even make the space for a new backyard garden is too overwhelming to even think about for very long. It goes something like this:
- Pull up poison ivy while it still has leaves and can be identified easily.
- Bushwhack all the seriously self-seeding poke weed NOW before the seeds ripen and drop and we have to do it all over again next year.
- Bushwhack horrible, prickly blackberry brambles.
- Somehow kill all the other noxious weeds carpeting various large areas along the fence. Husband wants to use herbicide, but I hate to do it with the kids so close by. On the other hand, there's a LOT to have to weed by hand, and I don't usually mind weeding.
- Hire someone to take out lots of youngish pines.
- Rip out all the chain link fence and have a nicer fence built that includes the whole backyard.
- Have a dumptruck load of topsoil--or maybe two--delivered so that we can level the yard some and route drainage around the house rather than directly to the foundation.
- Build a retaining wall to hold said topsoil back and border a path around the back porch.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Settled
It hit me a couple of days ago, that I was beginning to feel settled in this house now. I explained to a friend that for the first time I had walked into our bathroom upstairs and turned left instead of right to click on the light switch. Then that evening, after turning off the downstairs lights to ascend the stairs to bed, I navigated across the dark kitchen and didn't bump into anything. I'm developing a physical sense of comfort here in this house. I'm aquiring a physical blueprint of the space that will become part of me. As someone who's been used to working very physical jobs in the past--kitchen work is nothing if not intensely physical--I feel best when I am physically at home, when my body fits into places, when my arms and legs and hands know exactly where to go and what to do.
That's all true. But today I felt even more satisfied that this is home now. A set of neighbors that we already kinda know dropped by with a bottle of wine to welcome us to the street. As they were leaving, another neighbor dropped by with her son to invite Sister to a birthday party next weekend. About an hour later, a woman I used to work with who is fast becoming a good friend came for a visit with her baby son, just a little younger than Bean. And while she was still here, yet another neighbor arrived with our previously broken tiller he'd worked on, agreeing to replace the motor in return for 50% ownership. He's a 2-minute walk from us now so this should work out fine.
Now, I'm not trying to get all Prairie Home Companion on everyone here, but I always used to imagine that I'd live in a house with lots of friends and family around livening things up. I'd cook and bake for them, make yummy drinks and sit on the porch with them, have our kids all play together and not mind that the house was getting trashed. That seemed like such a good life to me, and still does. Maybe it's beginning now.
That's all true. But today I felt even more satisfied that this is home now. A set of neighbors that we already kinda know dropped by with a bottle of wine to welcome us to the street. As they were leaving, another neighbor dropped by with her son to invite Sister to a birthday party next weekend. About an hour later, a woman I used to work with who is fast becoming a good friend came for a visit with her baby son, just a little younger than Bean. And while she was still here, yet another neighbor arrived with our previously broken tiller he'd worked on, agreeing to replace the motor in return for 50% ownership. He's a 2-minute walk from us now so this should work out fine.
Now, I'm not trying to get all Prairie Home Companion on everyone here, but I always used to imagine that I'd live in a house with lots of friends and family around livening things up. I'd cook and bake for them, make yummy drinks and sit on the porch with them, have our kids all play together and not mind that the house was getting trashed. That seemed like such a good life to me, and still does. Maybe it's beginning now.
Friday, August 11, 2006
A hot, steamy cup of bile
Another day yesterday of wonky cable service and spotty internet, hence no post. Attention, damn Time Warner Cable! It is very hard for a mama to have a blog when she has no internet connection! Fer chrissake!
Forgive all the exclamation points, but my adrenalin is pumping just now due to yet another stupid exchange with my Ex, Sister's father. A simple matter of swapping weekends with Sister in September has become a squabble over mere HOURS. The Ex wants the few extra hours we need to make a drive back from the mountains on one of "his" days to translate to a whole extra day and overnight stay with him on one of "my" days. Christ. This guy drives me friggin' nuts. If only the man had a job and therefore some other way to occupy his mental time besides thinking of ways to get me to agree to hand over time with Sister. And let me just say here that HE WAS THE ONE WHO HIRED A LAWYER FIRST IN ORDER TO CREATE A JOINT CUSTODY AGREEMENT! He doesn't like it now? Well, I never liked it, so tough titties, Mister Unemployed Slack-Ass Clueless Pretend Artist. Go start acting like the almost 40-year old man you are, get a job, stop living off your parents, and stop trying to get everyone to just give you everything.
Alright, enough of this biliousness. Didn't I once declare that I was going to seek counselling to help me through all this bitterness towards my Ex (and his passive-agressive demon witch mother)? Yeah, I did say that. No, I haven't done it. Can you tell?
Forgive all the exclamation points, but my adrenalin is pumping just now due to yet another stupid exchange with my Ex, Sister's father. A simple matter of swapping weekends with Sister in September has become a squabble over mere HOURS. The Ex wants the few extra hours we need to make a drive back from the mountains on one of "his" days to translate to a whole extra day and overnight stay with him on one of "my" days. Christ. This guy drives me friggin' nuts. If only the man had a job and therefore some other way to occupy his mental time besides thinking of ways to get me to agree to hand over time with Sister. And let me just say here that HE WAS THE ONE WHO HIRED A LAWYER FIRST IN ORDER TO CREATE A JOINT CUSTODY AGREEMENT! He doesn't like it now? Well, I never liked it, so tough titties, Mister Unemployed Slack-Ass Clueless Pretend Artist. Go start acting like the almost 40-year old man you are, get a job, stop living off your parents, and stop trying to get everyone to just give you everything.
Alright, enough of this biliousness. Didn't I once declare that I was going to seek counselling to help me through all this bitterness towards my Ex (and his passive-agressive demon witch mother)? Yeah, I did say that. No, I haven't done it. Can you tell?
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Domestic Pet Peeve of the Day: Sticky little sesame seeds left positively everywhere in what was apparently a kitchen explosion that occurred while I took Sister to ceramics camp this morning. I thought a sink full of coffee dregs was bad yesterday? Ha! Clearly, I am the only with the ability anymore to even see kitchen messes, much less tidy them up.
And that was just part of a crappily started morning. Sister is being so horrible lately. I don't know what the hell is wrong with this 8-year old child of mine. I am seriously contemplating calling up her dad and asking him to take her from me early this weekend rather than deal with her crappy attitude til Sunday night. From the time that she descended the stairs in a fancy skirt and blouse this morning, bound for clay class and staring at me challengingly, daring me to send her back to change, til the time that I picked her up this afternoon and witnessed her slam the door practically on her baby sister's nose (causing much screaming) and then refuse to look me in the eye while I very calmly asked her to correct her various ill behaviours, she's been an absolute pill. To quote a friend talking about her own pre-teen daughter at a party several years ago, "I just don't like her very much right now." I really don't. And isn't this stuff supposed to happen when they're, like, 12 or something? Not 8?
What are you supposed to do in this case anyway? I mean, she's my kid so I can't REALLY send her off anywhere. If she rolls out of bed doing petty, rude shit from minute one, what the hell do I do? Ignore it? Give her time outs, which I really think she's outgrown? Deny her privileges? Is it time to start GROUNDING her? And how am I supposed to ground her when she has no social life to speak of, goes to her dad's house almost every weekend, and doesn't even watch that much t.v. that I could take away from her?
I am at a loss here. I'm just grateful to have the nice daughter of a good friend here for the next few afternoons to keep Sister out of my hair. The other girl is safe. Sister saves her snakiness for mama.
And that was just part of a crappily started morning. Sister is being so horrible lately. I don't know what the hell is wrong with this 8-year old child of mine. I am seriously contemplating calling up her dad and asking him to take her from me early this weekend rather than deal with her crappy attitude til Sunday night. From the time that she descended the stairs in a fancy skirt and blouse this morning, bound for clay class and staring at me challengingly, daring me to send her back to change, til the time that I picked her up this afternoon and witnessed her slam the door practically on her baby sister's nose (causing much screaming) and then refuse to look me in the eye while I very calmly asked her to correct her various ill behaviours, she's been an absolute pill. To quote a friend talking about her own pre-teen daughter at a party several years ago, "I just don't like her very much right now." I really don't. And isn't this stuff supposed to happen when they're, like, 12 or something? Not 8?
What are you supposed to do in this case anyway? I mean, she's my kid so I can't REALLY send her off anywhere. If she rolls out of bed doing petty, rude shit from minute one, what the hell do I do? Ignore it? Give her time outs, which I really think she's outgrown? Deny her privileges? Is it time to start GROUNDING her? And how am I supposed to ground her when she has no social life to speak of, goes to her dad's house almost every weekend, and doesn't even watch that much t.v. that I could take away from her?
I am at a loss here. I'm just grateful to have the nice daughter of a good friend here for the next few afternoons to keep Sister out of my hair. The other girl is safe. Sister saves her snakiness for mama.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
While I was away
Domestic Pet Peeve of the Day: Husband's coffee sludge from yesterday's coffee dumped into the sink and all over a dish cloth with no rinsing.
Just by way of catching everyone (who's interested) up on my life while I've been away from the blogosphere these past few weeks, here are some highlights:
Just by way of catching everyone (who's interested) up on my life while I've been away from the blogosphere these past few weeks, here are some highlights:
- I turned 35 and Sister turned 8. Both of us are feeling a little iffy about the whole growing up thing.
- As I've already mentioned, we are officially moved into our new house one street over from our old house. This was easier in terms of my emotional state than I expected. Only once did I almost cry about leaving my garden, and that's as bad as it got. As my friends know, I'm a bridge-burning kind of girl. I don't look back.
- However, this doesn't mean I don't feel my fair share of freak-out about this move. Mostly, I'm still feeling unsure that I belong in this house. It's a big damn house! It has 2 stories which I find intimidating. I never imagined myself living in a big house before and, let's face it, being surrounded by the trappings of a prosperous life. I mean, we're by no means filthy rich. This house is 40 years old and no McMansion, I assure you. But I've been so used to a financial struggle all my life, whether it was my single mom being unable to pay the power bill from time to time or being on my own in college and subsisting on egg salad, Saltines, and baked potatoes for weeks on end. I feel nervous not worrying about groceries or utility bills. I feel really, really guilty actually.
- Husband and I had a couple of tense weeks leading up to our move which seem to have died down now. We actually had a big fight the very first night we spent at the beach with my family, all about how much of a bitchy tone I have in general, like, throughout every day. This was sucky news from my very beloved spouse, but not too surprising. I've always considered myself somewhat of a bitch, to the point where I don't even flinch when someone slings that particular barb my way. But I'll never win if my comparison is Husband's saintly and soft-spoken mother. What's a sometimes bitchy and lately-stressed mama to do? Especially one who grew up with a similarly bitchy and stressed mama as an example?
- On a lighter note, I spent some time poring over my new homeowner's insurance policy recently. It was hysterical! Have y'all ever read the fine print of yours? For example, the policy does not include coverage of events related to "nuclear hazard," but WILL reimburse for damages sustained during volcanic eruptions. Phew! Thank God for that! (Fine print: "One or more volcanic eruptions sustained during a 72-hour period will be considered as one volcanic eruption." Subtext: don't try anything sneaky, you litigious Southern bastards! We'll bust out the Richter scale on your asses. Or Geiger counter. Or whatever the hell.) I was literally laughing out loud, though that might've been the gin.
- Finding both a plastic grocery bag of nasty deer bones and a baggie containing a large shed snake skin stashed in Sister's closet. The girl is into natural science, but give a mother a break, will you, child?
Monday, August 07, 2006
The Return of the Sugar Mama
Ah, gin! That sharp, cold elixir that makes the dull but stressful life of a stay-at-home mom far more bearable, even glamorous! All my angst lately when I look around at this new, bigger house and feel like I don't belong in it? Poof--gone after the first few swigs of my gin gimlet! My inner bitch fest caused by Husband's complaints over how I do his laundry now that we have a dryer? Who cares? Pass the gin and I'll dry anything I damn well please if I don't have time to read labels 'cause the baby's screaming at me! I love gin.
So I'm back in the blogging saddle again after a week's residence in this new place and a much-needed break from my bloggable inner monologue for the couple of weeks prior to that. I would've been back sooner, too, except that this new house is serviced by the most customer-jerk-around cable company EVER--this being Time-Warner, of course--and we haven't had internet access or a functional home phone for the entire week. Woe is me, right? The terrible plight of the suburban woman! I DO know that I suck here, believe me.
But no, really, I'm back! I hope I've still got some interested readers out there, too, because I haven't been keeping up with ANYONE in my absence. No, not even you, Mommygoth. But I've changed. Posts everyday, no matter how short or inane! Doesn't that sound appealing? Okay, how about comments out the ying-yang for all comers?
I'm back! Hello?
So I'm back in the blogging saddle again after a week's residence in this new place and a much-needed break from my bloggable inner monologue for the couple of weeks prior to that. I would've been back sooner, too, except that this new house is serviced by the most customer-jerk-around cable company EVER--this being Time-Warner, of course--and we haven't had internet access or a functional home phone for the entire week. Woe is me, right? The terrible plight of the suburban woman! I DO know that I suck here, believe me.
But no, really, I'm back! I hope I've still got some interested readers out there, too, because I haven't been keeping up with ANYONE in my absence. No, not even you, Mommygoth. But I've changed. Posts everyday, no matter how short or inane! Doesn't that sound appealing? Okay, how about comments out the ying-yang for all comers?
I'm back! Hello?
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Taking a break
We're back from the mountains of Tennessee. Actually I should confess that we've been back for some days now. It was a relaxing trip and for the record I need to say here that I finally got the whole cabin on the river thing for Husband. We attended his annual family reunion together for the first time, and I met lots of relatives. They were all so nice. And smart. And sweet and welcoming. It was very pleasant indeed and I think that from now on I won't dread the cabin trip quite so much. The long drive with kids, yes. The place itself, no. It's kind of a relief for me to not feel so pissy about it.
But now we're home again, living among what few boxes we have packed, trying to get a ridiculous number of things done before we close on the new house Friday and then leave town again for another week on Saturday. Sigh. I'm sure y'all are sick of hearing about this, and frankly I'm sick of my own damn self at the moment. I've decided I'm going to take a brief break from blogging here because I'm just too tired of what I have to say. Basically, my life can be summed up in a few sentences right now. Here it is:
I'm really tired most of the time. I'm really busy with packing and scheduling repairs on both these houses, plus taking care of the kids all damn day. My kids and my husband drive me nuts a lot because I'm so tired and busy all the time. I am evil and short-tempered with them a lot and can't help myself. I generally feel resentful and put-upon most days.
Who needs it? I'll bet most of the mamas out there feel exactly the same way, but somehow the rest of you say it in a more witty fashion or are more insightful and creative about it, or at the very least you don't let it drag on for quite so long. Me, I'm just tired of my own shit. I'm going to shut up for the next couple of weeks and hope that just getting through to the other side of this move will cure me.
I'll see y'all after we move, early August or thereabouts.
But now we're home again, living among what few boxes we have packed, trying to get a ridiculous number of things done before we close on the new house Friday and then leave town again for another week on Saturday. Sigh. I'm sure y'all are sick of hearing about this, and frankly I'm sick of my own damn self at the moment. I've decided I'm going to take a brief break from blogging here because I'm just too tired of what I have to say. Basically, my life can be summed up in a few sentences right now. Here it is:
I'm really tired most of the time. I'm really busy with packing and scheduling repairs on both these houses, plus taking care of the kids all damn day. My kids and my husband drive me nuts a lot because I'm so tired and busy all the time. I am evil and short-tempered with them a lot and can't help myself. I generally feel resentful and put-upon most days.
Who needs it? I'll bet most of the mamas out there feel exactly the same way, but somehow the rest of you say it in a more witty fashion or are more insightful and creative about it, or at the very least you don't let it drag on for quite so long. Me, I'm just tired of my own shit. I'm going to shut up for the next couple of weeks and hope that just getting through to the other side of this move will cure me.
I'll see y'all after we move, early August or thereabouts.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Husband's night out
Oh, and by the way, Husband's weekend? He left work early Friday afternoon to go have beers with his friend as planned. But then went out AGAIN Saturday night with the same friend for more beers. Two nights in a row! But wait, it gets worse. This friend, whose stricter wife is out of town with the kids this weekend, took him to a STRIP CLUB! I'd say "dragged" him to a strip club, except that anyone who knows my Husband knows how unlikely a scenario that is. Husband woke me up getting into bed well past 2:00 am, stinking of cigarette smoke, and drunk enough to have the hangover shakes this morning.
Did I complain? Are you kidding? No! That kinda stuff is currency, ladies! Serious currency. That is, if you've got the kind of husband who isn't going to actually do all that much at strip clubs other than ogle and drink, maybe get a lap dance and then come home to a few minutes on the internet when his wife is already in bed. Now ask me how many times I'll be sleeping in over this week-long trip to the mountains while Husband gets up with Bean. Go ahead, ask me. Heh.
Did I complain? Are you kidding? No! That kinda stuff is currency, ladies! Serious currency. That is, if you've got the kind of husband who isn't going to actually do all that much at strip clubs other than ogle and drink, maybe get a lap dance and then come home to a few minutes on the internet when his wife is already in bed. Now ask me how many times I'll be sleeping in over this week-long trip to the mountains while Husband gets up with Bean. Go ahead, ask me. Heh.
Before we leave for awhile
I'm crankin' out the tasks today, crossing things off my to-do-before-leaving-town-for-a-week checklist.
- Feed friend's cats and scoop 2 deposits of fresh cat shit out of her kitchen sink because apparently these felines do NOT like to be left alone. Check.
- Make a quadruple batch of pralines to take to Husband's family reunion on Tuesday, using 4 pounds of sugar, 4 pounds of light brown sugar, 2 pounds of pecan halves, 1/2 a cup of bourbon, and 1/2 a pound of butter. Oh, and a measly 1 cup of heavy cream. Check.
- Finish basting the twin bed quilt of little Bean so that I can take it and its mate on our trip and do some big-stitch quilting on those suckers, maybe get 'em knocked out and ready to bind once I get home. What possessed me to whip up 2 matching twin bed quilts for my girls, I don't know. I've been working on them off and on for about 8 months now. It's tablecloths and the occasional crib quilt gift from here on out. Oy vey with the quilting hobby! But check on the basting.
- Seriously clean Sister's room while she's gone for a week with her Dad and can't protest my tossing her priceless paper scraps with her most brilliant inspirations on them. I've tried having her help me on room deep-cleaning to instill in her the lesson that not all we make and work on is valuable and fabulous. Sometimes we make works of genius that we should keep forever, and sometimes we make crap. This is a hard lesson for an almost-8 year old, so I've decided no more end-of-school-year room purging while she's anywhere on the premises. Anyways, I got a start on it before I gave up in disgust because I've let her accumulate vast mountains of crap over the last 6 months and it's really dismaying. Maybe when we get back. Half-check.
And that's about all I can manage today. My energy is petering out at this point and I still have to pack for me and Bean. We're leaving tomorrow morning and won't have internet access up in them thar hills for the next week. But I hope you all have lovely long weekends and a happy 4th!
Before we leave for awhile
I'm crankin' out the tasks today, crossing things off my to-do-before-leaving-town-for-a-week checklist.
- Feed friend's cats and scoop 2 deposits of fresh cat shit out of her kitchen sink because apparently these felines do NOT like to be left alone. Check.
- Make a quadruple batch of pralines to take to Husband's family reunion on Tuesday, using 4 pounds of sugar, 4 pounds of light brown sugar, 2 pounds of pecan halves, 1/2 a cup of bourbon, and 1/2 a pound of butter. Oh, and a measly 1 cup of heavy cream. Check.
- Finish basting the twin bed quilt of little Bean so that I can take it and its mate on our trip and do some big-stitch quilting on those suckers, maybe get 'em knocked out and ready to bind once I get home. What possessed me to whip up 2 matching twin bed quilts for my girls, I don't know. I've been working on them off and on for about 8 months now. It's tablecloths and the occasional crib quilt gift from here on out. Oy vey with the quilting hobby! But check on the basting.
- Seriously clean Sister's room while she's gone for a week with her Dad and can't protest my tossing her priceless paper scraps with her most brilliant inspirations on them. I've tried having her help me on room deep-cleaning to instill in her the lesson that not all we make and work on is valuable and fabulous. Sometimes we make works of genius that we should keep forever, and sometimes we make crap. This is a hard lesson for an almost-8 year old, so I've decided no more end-of-school-year room purging while she's anywhere on the premises. Anyways, I got a start on it before I gave up in disgust because I've let her accumulate vast mountains of crap over the last 6 months and it's really dismaying. Maybe when we get back. Half-check.
And that's about all I can manage today. My energy is petering out at this point and I still have to pack for me and Bean. We're leaving tomorrow morning and won't have internet access up in them thar hills for the next week. But I hope you all have lovely long weekends and a happy 4th!
Thursday, June 29, 2006
To be fair
Husband asked me this morning, very tentatively indeed, whether it would be o.k. for him to go out for a beer with a good friend of his Friday or Saturday night. "Sure," I said. "That's alright." I suppressed a big, self-pitying sigh and a comment to the effect that "I wish I could go out with my friends and have a beer." Pats on the back for me, right?
Husband surprised me the other night during one of our rare, uninterrupted conversations by telling me that he was feeling pretty...occupied these days. Like he has no free time anymore, never gets to just hang around the house reading the paper or doing yardwork if he wants or going to a show or whatever. He's just too busy, he told me. I guess I was surprised because I hadn't figured that it works both ways, y'know? I mean, he actually gets to leave the house 5 days a week which I envy most sharply some days, but sometimes I forget he's going to work. And as much as I feel like I've been over-the-top busy with both childcare and the hundreds of small tasks related to getting ready to move lately, he's been doing a lot, too. And feeling stressed about it apparently. Who'da thunk it?
My response to him was comforting, I hope. I told him that we were in the throes of the busiest time of our lives as the parents of young children. It wouldn't always be this crazy and this loud and this busy. I try to tell myself that sometimes, too. That I'll have time to lay around with the paper and a bottomless cup of coffee again one of these days, but now is not that time. And here's where a better woman than me would end with a platitude about how I'll miss it when it's over, but I can't bring myself to say that. It could be true, but that leisure time looks like paradise from where we're sitting right now.
Husband surprised me the other night during one of our rare, uninterrupted conversations by telling me that he was feeling pretty...occupied these days. Like he has no free time anymore, never gets to just hang around the house reading the paper or doing yardwork if he wants or going to a show or whatever. He's just too busy, he told me. I guess I was surprised because I hadn't figured that it works both ways, y'know? I mean, he actually gets to leave the house 5 days a week which I envy most sharply some days, but sometimes I forget he's going to work. And as much as I feel like I've been over-the-top busy with both childcare and the hundreds of small tasks related to getting ready to move lately, he's been doing a lot, too. And feeling stressed about it apparently. Who'da thunk it?
My response to him was comforting, I hope. I told him that we were in the throes of the busiest time of our lives as the parents of young children. It wouldn't always be this crazy and this loud and this busy. I try to tell myself that sometimes, too. That I'll have time to lay around with the paper and a bottomless cup of coffee again one of these days, but now is not that time. And here's where a better woman than me would end with a platitude about how I'll miss it when it's over, but I can't bring myself to say that. It could be true, but that leisure time looks like paradise from where we're sitting right now.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
This sucky week in review
I've been in such a bilious mood for the last 48 hours. I'm just a little too short on sleep lately, and there's too much going on. Like what, you ask? I'll tell you.
- You already know about the house-selling and house-buying going on. I should be packing, but haven't begun a single box.
- I've scheduled various appointments and deliveries every single day this week, and this sucks. It doesn't feel like summer at all.
- Everyone in my household clearly knows much more than me. Sister is constantly correcting me, and don't get me started on my Husband. Every.fucking.thing. is cause for endless picky discussion and it's exhausting me.
- Oh, and even the rug cleaning guy knows more than me! This guy we hired to clean a couple of dirty rugs comes over yesterday and begins lecturing me about how I shouldn't have tried to shampoo a hand-made rug. (This was a big jute rug that we'd spent all of $100 on--not much considering it's 7X10', so big damn deal!) Anyways, I didn't really know that, so I'm not arguing, but then he proceeds to tell me I really shouldn't have it anywhere it's going to be walked on either. What the hell point is there in having a rug if it's not supposed to be walked on?! He just wouldn't shut up and at one point I even rolled my eyes and stomped my foot in impatience before I could stop myself. He totally saw me, too.
- And the guy who delivered a portable storage unit yesterday that I'm supposed to be filling with packed boxes--HE TOO knows more than me! He really thought I should face the door in a different direction than I wanted it, because really it would be better to wheel the trash can behind the unit rather than in front of the unit. And the door when it was opened might hit a couple of plants nearby. And most people like to prop the door open with a rock or something else heavy so that opening it is just a one-time thing, and then you put boxes in it and move the rock and then closing the door is also just a one-time thing, and also it wouldn't hit the plants there. Guy, would you just shut the fuck up and get in your little forklift and put the unit where I want it?! Jesus H. Christ!
- Bean is still going through this phase of screaming at me and clinging to my legs while I'm trying to cook dinner. I found myself saying to her, "Bean, I am going to rip my own eyelashes out if you don't stop screaming at me." Which then made me laugh hilariously at my own humor and I picked her up and everything was suddenly o.k.
- But I did have to order an emergency evacuation of the bath tub last night when Bean perpetrated a gigantic baby poop explosion on her Sister. Bean's been eating a whole lotta blueberries and raisins lately. Can you picture it? Bet you can.
- Husband and I are hauling Bean and the frickin' dog in the car to Tennessee next week on an 8-hour drive to his family's cabin in the mountains to attend a family reunion on the 4th, plus a cousin's wedding on the 8th. Now, I've been considering confessing my feelings about this trip in case any of Husband's stupid, gossipy running buddies are still reading my blog and teasing him about things they read here. But they can all go fuck themselves if they want. I'm dreading going to this cabin again. I know that time spent in this cabin was very special to Husband's dear mother, but now it's really filthy. Like, ancient clothes moldering in rotting dressers, and ants everywhere, and thick dirt on the floors filthy. And the river it's next to where you'd think it might look fun to swim and go tubing and stuff is fucking freezing cold, even in July. And the rednecks? Damn it, I grew up with these people and never went back to the town where I spent my formative years! I do not now want to vacation with them! They piss me off when they wake me up at night whooping it up on the damn swinging bridge everyone visits at all hours that just so happens to be located right next to this venerated cabin. Sigh. But we'll go again and I'll keep my damn mouth shut and know that at least Bean will have a blast with her Papa. I love my Husband and so I'll never tell him how I feel about this cabin. Don't you fuckers go telling him either.
- I've had a period for 9 days straight now, and am at the bottom of a second box of O.B. What the hell? Am I making up for not having had one for a year after having Bean or something?
And that's all the time I have to bitch, folks. My baby is waking up again, and just for once I wish she didn't wake up screaming every.single.time. Don't some people's babies wake up all cheerful and chatty? Not mine, dammit.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Bonus kid love note
Sister is apparently old enough to be writing secret love notes and stashing them in her jewelry box. Unfortunately for her, she is NOT yet old enough for me to stay out of her room when just the daily tidying isn't enough anymore. While cleaning out a drawer positively crammed with tiny pieces of written-on paper, I ran across this missive to a Costa Rican classmate with whom Sister kept getting in trouble for the last 4 months of school:
It's pretty innocent as far as love notes go, but Husband says that I should really tell Sister she's too young to be writing this kind of thing. I'm still not sure. I certainly remember having crushes at her age, and certainly don't remember my mom talking to me about them. I seem to have turned out o.k. I mean, if going through a slutty, druggy, drunky era for about 7 years doesn't count. Hey, I grew out of it eventually, right?
The freaky thing to me is that Sister clearly already has a thing for the Latin type. Like, to the point where I think I better start working on my Spanish before too much longer. In the meantime, I wonder where the hell Crubutre is. Mabye Husband and I should go this year? Something to look into...
Dear Jerome,
If we get married we should stay in Amarieca and go too Costirica for vacations and I will cook. We can go too the Crubutre for our honeymoon and we'll look like this. (And there are 2 pictures of smiling faces labelled "you" and "me.")
It's pretty innocent as far as love notes go, but Husband says that I should really tell Sister she's too young to be writing this kind of thing. I'm still not sure. I certainly remember having crushes at her age, and certainly don't remember my mom talking to me about them. I seem to have turned out o.k. I mean, if going through a slutty, druggy, drunky era for about 7 years doesn't count. Hey, I grew out of it eventually, right?
The freaky thing to me is that Sister clearly already has a thing for the Latin type. Like, to the point where I think I better start working on my Spanish before too much longer. In the meantime, I wonder where the hell Crubutre is. Mabye Husband and I should go this year? Something to look into...
Busy
I've made at least a dozen phone calls this morning, seeking quotes from movers and mobile storage unit providers and the like. Our move begins now, even though we're not technically moving out of our house for another month. Why the rush? Because we have scheduled not one but TWO vacations during the month of July. Husband and I are leaving town for all of next week to attend a family reunion on July 4th as well as a cousin's wedding a few days later. We'll be back home for a week and then leave town again for my family's annual week-long beach trip. (I mean my entire family, by the way. There will be eleven children there. Some vacation, huh?) Then we'll return home again and there'll be just a few days to finish packing up and get the hell out.
Husband and I did manage to squeeze in some down time over this weekend, though I suppose that "squeezing in" down time makes it sound like just another chore. We hired our ebullient college student babysitter extraordinaire to sit around in case Bean woke up from her night's sleep while we went to see The Proposition. The movie was super-violent, visually filthy, and stark, which I should have expected from a screenplay written by Nick Cave. Not exactly date-night material, especially because all we had time to do beforehand was grab a tank of gas and then a cheap beer at the pool hall next to the theater, but whatever. That's married life, right? And anyway there appear to be ZERO good movies out at the moment. (The DaVinci Code is not my idea of a must-see flick.)
But I wander here. And Bean wakes up. And there is lunch to make and packing to do, so off I go.
Husband and I did manage to squeeze in some down time over this weekend, though I suppose that "squeezing in" down time makes it sound like just another chore. We hired our ebullient college student babysitter extraordinaire to sit around in case Bean woke up from her night's sleep while we went to see The Proposition. The movie was super-violent, visually filthy, and stark, which I should have expected from a screenplay written by Nick Cave. Not exactly date-night material, especially because all we had time to do beforehand was grab a tank of gas and then a cheap beer at the pool hall next to the theater, but whatever. That's married life, right? And anyway there appear to be ZERO good movies out at the moment. (The DaVinci Code is not my idea of a must-see flick.)
But I wander here. And Bean wakes up. And there is lunch to make and packing to do, so off I go.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Done deal
I just woke up from a most delightful little power nap while Bean slept and Sister and her friend zoned out on Nickelodeon. 'Cause I can do that again. 'Cause my house is under contract. Aw, yeah! As of last night, Husband and I signed a contract and the house is officially going to be sold. No more real estate agents tromping through giving me attitude about trying to sell without an agent, their picky clients judging my house-cleaning skills, decrying the lack of a dryer, sniffing about it being "too small." Someone loved it as much as we do. In fact, three couples loved it as much as we do and our visions of a bidding war came true! We ended up getting $2K more than we were asking for, and that was actually the lowest of the three offers. The winning couple had a kid, too, though--unlike the next highest bid--and they were also in a solid financial position--unlike the highest bid of all. Breathe a sigh of relief with me, everyone. (That is, if I still even have any readers left after my week's absence from the blogosphere.)
Husband and I are heading to some friends' house tonight on a dinner invitation. It's beginning to storm outside, but I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to cocktails, food that isn't take-out, and hearing someone talk about something other than selling houses! I'll catch up with y'all tomorrow.
Husband and I are heading to some friends' house tonight on a dinner invitation. It's beginning to storm outside, but I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to cocktails, food that isn't take-out, and hearing someone talk about something other than selling houses! I'll catch up with y'all tomorrow.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Bidding begins
We received an offer on our house from a young, hipster couple this morning, handed to us by their smarmy real estate agent in a sealed envelope. We requested the sealing because we're still leaving town tonight to drive down to Atlanta. We're expecting those other 2 offers to come in on Tuesday when we return and want to look at them all together. So far, 2 couples out of the 3 want to know if someone has outbid them so they can consider offering a second time. I hate that we're leaving town because even though this is an ideal situation to be in as the seller of a house, it's still stressful as hell. I never was good with unknown situations, even if the tension works to my advantage in this case.
I'll let y'all know what happens when we get back. With 3 offers likely to be on the table, I expect that we'll at least get our asking price. But I've bitten all my nails down til they're sore in the meantime.
I'll let y'all know what happens when we get back. With 3 offers likely to be on the table, I expect that we'll at least get our asking price. But I've bitten all my nails down til they're sore in the meantime.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Offer to offer
Good news on the house-selling front! The agent-less couple called last night and want to make an offer on the house. They're unsure whether they should hire an agent, though, to help them navigate the paperwork, and then there are their finances to consider. Husband and I are going out of town and told them to take their time and talk to us when we get back on Tuesday. So basically they've offered to make an offer and it hasn't happened yet, but it is heartening to think that this may all be over soon.
Husband emailed the Boston couple last night to let them know the situation, and they're all in a panic now. They're going to try to fly down on Saturday so they can see it and determine whether it really is the house of their dreams, as they seem to believe it is from the photos. They want the chance to put in an offer before the couple on Tuesday. Competition is very, very good in this case. I'm beginning to have visions of getting more than our asking price if these two get into a little bidding war--something that has happened a couple of times in our neighborhood recently.
I'm feeling like I can idle today with the pressure off a little. Maybe it's premature to kick back, but dammit, this house is immaculate! I've got a novel to read during Bean's naptime, and after she wakes up and has lunch it's off to the pool with us. There's another showing scheduled during our dinner time, so Husband and I have already decided to eat out tonight. It's going to be a good, relaxing day.
Husband emailed the Boston couple last night to let them know the situation, and they're all in a panic now. They're going to try to fly down on Saturday so they can see it and determine whether it really is the house of their dreams, as they seem to believe it is from the photos. They want the chance to put in an offer before the couple on Tuesday. Competition is very, very good in this case. I'm beginning to have visions of getting more than our asking price if these two get into a little bidding war--something that has happened a couple of times in our neighborhood recently.
I'm feeling like I can idle today with the pressure off a little. Maybe it's premature to kick back, but dammit, this house is immaculate! I've got a novel to read during Bean's naptime, and after she wakes up and has lunch it's off to the pool with us. There's another showing scheduled during our dinner time, so Husband and I have already decided to eat out tonight. It's going to be a good, relaxing day.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Party all the time!
This house-selling business feels a little familiar. Getting the house ready for potential showings is a lot like getting ready for a party, and God knows I've thrown my share of those. I spend my days making sure the house is spotless and that the "stage" is set. I put fresh fruit in the pottery bowl on our kitchen island. I pick fresh flowers from the garden and put them in vases throughout the house. I make sure all the coffee and tea spots that we slosh on the floors every damn morning are wiped up. I cover the piles of laundry in their baskets with attractive--though dirty--tea towels so no potentially fastidious house-shopping stranger has to gaze on our dirty socks and napkins. The clutter gets stashed, even if it's clutter we use everyday--contact lens cases, toothpaste, eyeglasses, water glasses, tea pots, coffee grinders, slippers, notebooks, all of it gets hidden. The house has never been so clean, even before the cleaning service arrived this morning to really scrub it down.
A lot like preparing for a party. Except that I have to do this every.single.day.
It's tiring, and I'm driving myself nuts trying to keep the baby from trashing the whole house on the off chance that some agent will call and ask to come over RIGHT NOW to show the place. But at least I don't have to cook for all these people! And no one's expecting cocktails except me--earlier each evening than usual--and Husband--perhaps one more each evening than usual.
I just hope that we can get it under contract soon so I don't have to keep up with this cleaning charade. We've had 2 showings so far, another scheduled for this afternoon, and that couple in Boston still wants to see it next week when they're down, if it's still on the market. (An aside: for some reason I think this couple expected that we would keep it off the market for them until they could make it down here. We've never even met them! But their emails got all chilly suddenly once they found out we were trying to--gasp!--sell our house as soon as we could. These people were friends of friends of a neighbor. What were they thinking?!) Both showings have gone well. The first couple to see it took their time, and then spent 15 minutes right out front talking with their agent. The showing last night was to a young, agent-less couple who spent an hour going around with Husband, even going so far as to check the attic and wiggle around in the crawlspace in the evening dark. They want to see the inspection report we had done when we first bought the house, so it appears that they are seriously contemplating it.
Anyhow, once again I go into detail that is only going to interest those who know me well and haven't talked to me on the phone recently. Sorry to the rest of you. There's not much going on here otherwise. Hopefully the rest of you are having a nicer and more interesting summer than I am! Once I drop Sister off at overnight Brownie camp this afternoon, I might actually have time to catch up on my blog reading and find out for myself.
A lot like preparing for a party. Except that I have to do this every.single.day.
It's tiring, and I'm driving myself nuts trying to keep the baby from trashing the whole house on the off chance that some agent will call and ask to come over RIGHT NOW to show the place. But at least I don't have to cook for all these people! And no one's expecting cocktails except me--earlier each evening than usual--and Husband--perhaps one more each evening than usual.
I just hope that we can get it under contract soon so I don't have to keep up with this cleaning charade. We've had 2 showings so far, another scheduled for this afternoon, and that couple in Boston still wants to see it next week when they're down, if it's still on the market. (An aside: for some reason I think this couple expected that we would keep it off the market for them until they could make it down here. We've never even met them! But their emails got all chilly suddenly once they found out we were trying to--gasp!--sell our house as soon as we could. These people were friends of friends of a neighbor. What were they thinking?!) Both showings have gone well. The first couple to see it took their time, and then spent 15 minutes right out front talking with their agent. The showing last night was to a young, agent-less couple who spent an hour going around with Husband, even going so far as to check the attic and wiggle around in the crawlspace in the evening dark. They want to see the inspection report we had done when we first bought the house, so it appears that they are seriously contemplating it.
Anyhow, once again I go into detail that is only going to interest those who know me well and haven't talked to me on the phone recently. Sorry to the rest of you. There's not much going on here otherwise. Hopefully the rest of you are having a nicer and more interesting summer than I am! Once I drop Sister off at overnight Brownie camp this afternoon, I might actually have time to catch up on my blog reading and find out for myself.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
An evening to relish
It's the afternoon lull here on the Sugar Ranch. Bean is sleeping and I had thought that I, too, would take a little power nap today. But I began obsessing over the disgustingly mildewed shower stall in the so-called "master" bathroom of our house. I doused the tiles with mildew remover--singeing my nose smell pores or whatever into oblivion in the process--then began scrubbing. My heart rate got all revved up, my brain is still in a whirl with all the house-selling chores, and so there will be no nap for this busy mama.
BUT. I am having 2 good friends over for a dinner party planned weeks before I knew we'd be moving. They're bringing gin and sour mix so that we can get likkered up on gin fizzes, and I'm doing the cooking. Wanna know the menu? Sure you do.
BUT. I am having 2 good friends over for a dinner party planned weeks before I knew we'd be moving. They're bringing gin and sour mix so that we can get likkered up on gin fizzes, and I'm doing the cooking. Wanna know the menu? Sure you do.
- Devilled eggs and small sour pickles will be our little hors-d'oeuvres.
- Fried chicken, and I won't spare the bacon grease for frying it in. Vegetable oil is for sissies.
- Mashed potatoes (But you can forget about the gravy--it's just not going to happen this evening.)
- Corn on the cob with plenty of kosher salt and hot, melty butter dripping off it.
- Cucumber and onion salad with some tasty cherry tomatoes thrown in.
- Fresh buttermilk biscuits with butter and maybe some strawberry freezer jam I made Mother's Day weekend. My Gran always had jam on the table when she served biscuits, at any meal any time of day.
- And for dessert, get this--hot fudge brownie sundaes! I made the brownies this morning, plus some homemade hot fudge sauce I happen to have on hand 'cause Husband likes it, squirty whipped cream, vanilla ice cream, choppped, toasted pecans...awww yeah!
Friday, June 09, 2006
Mama alone
Here's what a supportive wife I am. Husband was getting in his car this morning, heading to the Tennessee mountains to scatter his parents' ashes, along with his brother who flew in to Knoxville earlier this week from Colorado. Husband was giving me some last minute instruction about the listing-service-that-is-not-a-Realtor and I said to him, "My head is about to explode. Could we just stop talking and have you go?" Nice.
I'm on my second glass of wine now, trying to come down from another hellishly busy day. Bean has mostly settled down after 20 minutes of struggling against sleep in her crib. The weaning isn't going well for Bean. She misses me, even though during what used to be nursing time, we cuddle together and I let her drink some diluted juice while we read a story in the comfy, overstuffed nursing chair in her room. It's just not the same for her.
Sister's last day of 2nd grade was today, and she brought home another lovely report card. I say "another" as if it was some beautifully consistent habit of hers to do this. In fact, it's her 2nd one ever, and I'm very grateful to her teacher this year for understanding her in a way that her 1st grade teacher didn't. Those two just could not make it work, and what a revelation it was to me that teacher antagonism could start that early in a kid's schooling. It can! Even the littlest kids are full-fledged, personality-laden little entities who sometimes just don't get along with certain other bitchy, personality-laden entities. I'm just saying this in case any of you are under the impression that early childhood education is all sweetness and light and teddy bear tea parties and wear your pajamas to school day and stuff.
But anyhow, this blog entry is taking the tone of a journal entry, which is to say that it has no appeal to those of you who don't know me very well at all. So I'll shut up now. And go have a third glass of wine.
I'm on my second glass of wine now, trying to come down from another hellishly busy day. Bean has mostly settled down after 20 minutes of struggling against sleep in her crib. The weaning isn't going well for Bean. She misses me, even though during what used to be nursing time, we cuddle together and I let her drink some diluted juice while we read a story in the comfy, overstuffed nursing chair in her room. It's just not the same for her.
Sister's last day of 2nd grade was today, and she brought home another lovely report card. I say "another" as if it was some beautifully consistent habit of hers to do this. In fact, it's her 2nd one ever, and I'm very grateful to her teacher this year for understanding her in a way that her 1st grade teacher didn't. Those two just could not make it work, and what a revelation it was to me that teacher antagonism could start that early in a kid's schooling. It can! Even the littlest kids are full-fledged, personality-laden little entities who sometimes just don't get along with certain other bitchy, personality-laden entities. I'm just saying this in case any of you are under the impression that early childhood education is all sweetness and light and teddy bear tea parties and wear your pajamas to school day and stuff.
But anyhow, this blog entry is taking the tone of a journal entry, which is to say that it has no appeal to those of you who don't know me very well at all. So I'll shut up now. And go have a third glass of wine.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
House business
Jesus God, have I been busy! This house-selling business requires an ass-load of hard work, even though I consider our house to be cute and in damn good shape. I'm glad I'm not a slob or more of a slovenly housekeeper than I already am.
The good news is that we talked to a realtor whose opinion we trust, and when we told her our idea of a fair asking price for our current house she assured us that we were way UNDERpricing it. Given our beautiful gardens, new fence, and general cuteness and good condition she thought we could get almost $15K more for it. We haven't signed a contract with her because Husband wants very much to sell the house on his own with the help of one of those cheap-o companies that you pay a small fee to for an MLS listing. But she gave us advice anyway, even without us promising her a commission. Thanks for the recommendation, Mommygoth! If we end up not selling it on our own in the next 2 weeks we'll use her, but I hope we won't have to wait that long for a contract. We do already have some prospective buyers in Boston, an academic couple with a 2-year old who love the house pictures and have good friends living just around the corner...
So I'm eating, breathing, and sleeping house-selling these days. And this on top of Sister's 2nd-grade class party yesterday, Bean continuing with her molar-growing woes, and weaning that sweet baby on top of it all. She was down to just one evening feeding as part of her bedtime routine, and even then wasn't really nursing much because she's so riled up just before bed. I was going to a PTA meeting slash wine-soaked patting-ourselves-on-the-back fest last night and thought, well, I might as well just let it go now. So I did. And I was kinda sad. But truthfully, there's so much going on right now that I don't have time to mope about it. Tonight I'll just turn that nursing time into cuddle with mama and a book time, and I'll bet we'll both be o.k.
The good news is that we talked to a realtor whose opinion we trust, and when we told her our idea of a fair asking price for our current house she assured us that we were way UNDERpricing it. Given our beautiful gardens, new fence, and general cuteness and good condition she thought we could get almost $15K more for it. We haven't signed a contract with her because Husband wants very much to sell the house on his own with the help of one of those cheap-o companies that you pay a small fee to for an MLS listing. But she gave us advice anyway, even without us promising her a commission. Thanks for the recommendation, Mommygoth! If we end up not selling it on our own in the next 2 weeks we'll use her, but I hope we won't have to wait that long for a contract. We do already have some prospective buyers in Boston, an academic couple with a 2-year old who love the house pictures and have good friends living just around the corner...
So I'm eating, breathing, and sleeping house-selling these days. And this on top of Sister's 2nd-grade class party yesterday, Bean continuing with her molar-growing woes, and weaning that sweet baby on top of it all. She was down to just one evening feeding as part of her bedtime routine, and even then wasn't really nursing much because she's so riled up just before bed. I was going to a PTA meeting slash wine-soaked patting-ourselves-on-the-back fest last night and thought, well, I might as well just let it go now. So I did. And I was kinda sad. But truthfully, there's so much going on right now that I don't have time to mope about it. Tonight I'll just turn that nursing time into cuddle with mama and a book time, and I'll bet we'll both be o.k.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Blogroll?
Um...am I crazy, or has my entire blogroll disappeared? Can any of you tell me if you can see it in its usual spot, on the left side of my blog? If it really is gone and I have to reconstruct it, please give me a comment here and I'll add you back on. I promise that this isn't a pathetic ploy for comments. I just really appear to have somehow lost my blogroll! Very strange...
Getting ready to sell
Please to forgive. I'm going to be a bit of a one-trick pony for the next little while as I work through this monster of a to-do list we've drawn up enumerating the many, MANY things we have to do to get our house ready for sale. Thankfully, there are professionals who can do things like power-wash little girls' chalk pictures off of brick houses and who can easily fix the two-fold problem of moss growing on concrete porches because of leaking gutters. The bad side of it is that there will be many, MANY checks to write over the next couple of weeks. I only hope that we'll make up our outlay when we sell the house for our full asking price--whatever that ends up being--within hours of our actually listing it--whenever we can manage it. I wake up nights now trying to think of what items I'll have time to do in between keeping Bean entertained and fed. I discovered today that she very much enjoys UNpacking boxes. Not helpful, baby girl. Not helpful.
Whoops! There goes Bean now, waking up from her nap. My poor baby has been trying to get some molars for a few days now and hates her own mouth at the moment. One big tooth is half-way through, but the other is stubbornly refusing to surface. We've all got a lot going on just now.
Whoops! There goes Bean now, waking up from her nap. My poor baby has been trying to get some molars for a few days now and hates her own mouth at the moment. One big tooth is half-way through, but the other is stubbornly refusing to surface. We've all got a lot going on just now.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
New house
It's done. We're buying a new house as of July 14th. WE'RE BUYING A NEW HOUSE. It still hasn't quite sunk in yet.
We met with the wife of the neighbor couple last night at the house. Her husband had already left town, so it was just us 3 at the table with all the kids running and yelling around us. Negotiations were short and easy, and it was all very painless. We signed a contract. We wrote a check for earnest money.
And then we walked around the block to our own house and I suddenly felt very freaked out and sad. "What are we thinking?" I demanded of Husband. "I love this house! This is a great house! It's been good to us! What has it ever done to us? We're hurting its feelings!" I went on stupidly. Sigh. Of course it will eventually be fine, but this IS a wonderful house. It will be hard to leave it, even if we are just moving around the corner.
In the meantime, there is so much for us to do in the 6 weeks that we have before closing! I'm feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment, and I suspect that starting a list of what we need to do after I post this is just going to make it worse rather than better.
We met with the wife of the neighbor couple last night at the house. Her husband had already left town, so it was just us 3 at the table with all the kids running and yelling around us. Negotiations were short and easy, and it was all very painless. We signed a contract. We wrote a check for earnest money.
And then we walked around the block to our own house and I suddenly felt very freaked out and sad. "What are we thinking?" I demanded of Husband. "I love this house! This is a great house! It's been good to us! What has it ever done to us? We're hurting its feelings!" I went on stupidly. Sigh. Of course it will eventually be fine, but this IS a wonderful house. It will be hard to leave it, even if we are just moving around the corner.
In the meantime, there is so much for us to do in the 6 weeks that we have before closing! I'm feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment, and I suspect that starting a list of what we need to do after I post this is just going to make it worse rather than better.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Reunited
Husband is home again from Atlanta, and I've never been so glad to see him. He wasn't gone that long--only 3 days and 3 nights this time--but the evenings without him, with just me and the girls here at home, yawned open and empty like a bottomless pit. I love both my girls dearly, don't get me wrong! But the 3-1/2 hour gap of time between Bean waking from her afternoon nap and bedtime for both girls was SO dismaying.
My dear Husband, though. Bless him. He got home late yesterday afternoon, and we both immediately sat down together to talk over speaker phone with our mortgage company loan officer. Bean woke up in the middle of it, but after the phone call Husband scooped her up in a big papa-love-hug and she was his for the rest of the evening. The darling man even took her and Sister to the pool for the hour and a half before dinner, while I stayed at home, quietly cooking and having a little cocktail. It was a heavenly hour and a half and just the little break that I needed. And I didn't even have to ask!
No big news to report on the home-buying front yet. We're talking to an attorney today about drawing up a simple contract for us, and then we're going to invite those neighbors over to talk tomorrow or Saturday. Husband wants to ask them what they honestly think is a fair price for the house. Then we can fill in the contract with them right there at the table so that we don't have to waste time going back and forth over price. These neighbors strike us both as trustworthy folks, so we don't expect them to get all greedy on us. Again, crossed fingers. I'll keep y'all posted, and thanks for your good wishes and advice so far.
My dear Husband, though. Bless him. He got home late yesterday afternoon, and we both immediately sat down together to talk over speaker phone with our mortgage company loan officer. Bean woke up in the middle of it, but after the phone call Husband scooped her up in a big papa-love-hug and she was his for the rest of the evening. The darling man even took her and Sister to the pool for the hour and a half before dinner, while I stayed at home, quietly cooking and having a little cocktail. It was a heavenly hour and a half and just the little break that I needed. And I didn't even have to ask!
No big news to report on the home-buying front yet. We're talking to an attorney today about drawing up a simple contract for us, and then we're going to invite those neighbors over to talk tomorrow or Saturday. Husband wants to ask them what they honestly think is a fair price for the house. Then we can fill in the contract with them right there at the table so that we don't have to waste time going back and forth over price. These neighbors strike us both as trustworthy folks, so we don't expect them to get all greedy on us. Again, crossed fingers. I'll keep y'all posted, and thanks for your good wishes and advice so far.
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