We are now in Week 6 of the NFL season and for the past 5 weeks, our family has been participating in an experiment to find a toddler-friendly sports bar in our home town. I've suddenly discovered that I've got this OCD type need to document our experiences and create a spreadsheet with all our findings but that's another story.
Week 1: In attempt number one, we went to a little place up the street called the Diamond Plate (aka DP) where I have actually been a few times. During those times I've loved it. It's never totally packed and I swear I've seen a high chair there before somewhere, implying kid-friendliness, so I suggested to my husband that we test it out on a football Sunday for lunch.
We got out of the house right after Peewee woke up from her morning nap and got to the bar around 11:30 am. That means we had a good hour and a half before any illogical meltdowns began. The DP was packed and the only available table was a high top. Bubu was ok but Peewee is 16 months old now and I'm about to change her nickname to Punk. Without a high chair we took turns holding her as she tried to kick, lick, and throw condiments across the bar. The server took my husband's and my drink order and turned away so quickly that I had to shout out over the fairly rowdy old man crowd, "and two kid's lemonades please!"
We received a couple To-Go cups with lids that weren't quite secure enough for Peewee's onslaught. It's raining lemonade on my lap and so we determined that the DP was not our winner. We paid our tab and went to Chili's.
Conclusion: In order to spend football Sunday at DP, get a babysitter.
Not to be taken seriously. Ramblings of a stay at home mom who finally got a job.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Caution: Explicit Content
5am, Tuesday, July 31st. Bubu had just climbed into bed with us which is the normal 5am routine. I cracked open my eyes and noticed a slight queasiness in my stomach. I thought it was a little constipation so I rummaged through the bathroom drawers to find some leftover Col-Ease from when Peewee was born. I popped a couple pills, chugged a bottle of water, and went back to bed since I had a good hour before I really had to get up. I figured I'd go to the bathroom one good time and all would be normal. But the tummy troubles never subsided and I found myself on the toilet repeatedly with no relief in sight. As I sat there, sweating, nauseous, I started wondering what I was going to tell my boss. I'm obviously going to be late, my parents happen to be flying into town in a few hours from across the country, and I can't get off the toilet. Do I tell him anything about the toilet? Do I tell him I have no more poop to poop and still feel bad? Ugh! No, are you crazy?! So I text that I'm having some stomach issues and I'm running a bit late.
I somehow power through the nausea and weird pain to make it to the car, and then to Starbucks. Then, I sit on the toilet in Starbucks. No poop, just nausea. Seriously, is this what my life has turned into? I lean on the counter and order my coffee, thinking I will be fine, just power though it. I repeat to myself, I have a stomach of steel, I have a stomach of steel.
After about 5 minutes at my desk, I concede to the illness and walk into my boss's office to confess that I am dying. I tell him I'd like to lie down under my desk for a few minutes but if that's inappropriate, I need to go home and lie down for a little bit and hopefully be back at work after I get my parents from the airport. I somehow make the drive home, sneak in without the kids and nanny seeing me, and crash for an hour.
It's a struggle but I make it to the airport, make it back home with the rents, and out to pizza for dinner with the family. I was miserable, I couldn't eat not one bite of Round Table pizza, which is nuts. All I wanted to do was lay down in the booth. My Mom realized I wasn't feeling well, so she expedited the meal into a box and we drove home. I crashed for a few hours until my husband walked in and started asking questions. We were worried that the hernia was somehow causing this weird nausea and pain so he rushed me to the ER. What a nightmare that was. It happened to be the busiest night ever at Sutter Roseville. Every sick child, elderly person in a wheelchair, and bloody teenager was in the ER that night. We waited for 3 and half miserable hours until I couldn't make it any longer. Meanwhile, I had been using my purse as a pillow and an entire bottle of body spray spilled in my bag. The smell was overpowering and it did not help that I was nauseous in the first place. The people around me were horrified. I overheard some man say he'd been there for 7 hours and so we ended up leaving before we ever saw a doctor.
The next day, I slept almost all day, no food, barely anything to drink, vomiting that awful stomach acid. On the phone with the doctor , they confirmed I was NOT pregnant. THAT just by itself was a large light at the end of a dark tunnel. So I thought, this will blow over and I'll be fine tomorrow. Thank goodness my parents were there entertaining the kids all day and night. I would have been so screwed if they weren't here. The next morning, I tried to make it to work. I actually was ok for an hour or two, but then felt the queasiness creeping back so rushed home to squat in front of the toilet I knew best. I made an appt to see my doctor at 3:15 pm to find out if I really was dying. After waiting for over an hour in the waiting room, I was scolded for leaving the ER without seeing the doctor. God, if they only knew. I felt so awful I could barely keep my eyes open.
Without any true examination, it was determined I had a "bug" and needed lots of red Gatorade. Not yellow, or orange, but red or blue or purple. I puked for one more night but got plenty of red Gatorade down per my doctors orders and now it's Sunday, August 5th. I had to cancel our Saturday beach trip to Santa Cruz, our visit to the Monterrey Bay aquarium, and right now, my husband, kids and parents are out hiking by the river without me. But I have managed to eat two bites of toast and a few slices of pear today. I have survived the worst of it.
Since I've never been sick like this before, except for being pregnant, this was scary I must admit. There is one plus side I guess, I've lost 7 lbs in 6 days. Eeesh. Just to be clear, not a recommended diet.
I somehow power through the nausea and weird pain to make it to the car, and then to Starbucks. Then, I sit on the toilet in Starbucks. No poop, just nausea. Seriously, is this what my life has turned into? I lean on the counter and order my coffee, thinking I will be fine, just power though it. I repeat to myself, I have a stomach of steel, I have a stomach of steel.
After about 5 minutes at my desk, I concede to the illness and walk into my boss's office to confess that I am dying. I tell him I'd like to lie down under my desk for a few minutes but if that's inappropriate, I need to go home and lie down for a little bit and hopefully be back at work after I get my parents from the airport. I somehow make the drive home, sneak in without the kids and nanny seeing me, and crash for an hour.
It's a struggle but I make it to the airport, make it back home with the rents, and out to pizza for dinner with the family. I was miserable, I couldn't eat not one bite of Round Table pizza, which is nuts. All I wanted to do was lay down in the booth. My Mom realized I wasn't feeling well, so she expedited the meal into a box and we drove home. I crashed for a few hours until my husband walked in and started asking questions. We were worried that the hernia was somehow causing this weird nausea and pain so he rushed me to the ER. What a nightmare that was. It happened to be the busiest night ever at Sutter Roseville. Every sick child, elderly person in a wheelchair, and bloody teenager was in the ER that night. We waited for 3 and half miserable hours until I couldn't make it any longer. Meanwhile, I had been using my purse as a pillow and an entire bottle of body spray spilled in my bag. The smell was overpowering and it did not help that I was nauseous in the first place. The people around me were horrified. I overheard some man say he'd been there for 7 hours and so we ended up leaving before we ever saw a doctor.
The next day, I slept almost all day, no food, barely anything to drink, vomiting that awful stomach acid. On the phone with the doctor , they confirmed I was NOT pregnant. THAT just by itself was a large light at the end of a dark tunnel. So I thought, this will blow over and I'll be fine tomorrow. Thank goodness my parents were there entertaining the kids all day and night. I would have been so screwed if they weren't here. The next morning, I tried to make it to work. I actually was ok for an hour or two, but then felt the queasiness creeping back so rushed home to squat in front of the toilet I knew best. I made an appt to see my doctor at 3:15 pm to find out if I really was dying. After waiting for over an hour in the waiting room, I was scolded for leaving the ER without seeing the doctor. God, if they only knew. I felt so awful I could barely keep my eyes open.
Without any true examination, it was determined I had a "bug" and needed lots of red Gatorade. Not yellow, or orange, but red or blue or purple. I puked for one more night but got plenty of red Gatorade down per my doctors orders and now it's Sunday, August 5th. I had to cancel our Saturday beach trip to Santa Cruz, our visit to the Monterrey Bay aquarium, and right now, my husband, kids and parents are out hiking by the river without me. But I have managed to eat two bites of toast and a few slices of pear today. I have survived the worst of it.
Since I've never been sick like this before, except for being pregnant, this was scary I must admit. There is one plus side I guess, I've lost 7 lbs in 6 days. Eeesh. Just to be clear, not a recommended diet.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Love and Concern
I still have half a glass of wine left so I'm actually writing two posts in one night. A new record for me. So anyways, I am so excited that my parents are coming to visit all the way from NC in a week. They are staying with us for awhile to hang out with the kiddies and also take care of me after my second hernia repair which is August 7th. Thank you Peewee.
I have weekend plans for us, but during the week, the hubby and I go to work so I told the nanny she's on vacation since mom and dad will be here. I think that this is ok, I mean, my mom told me to give the nanny this time off, but my parents are getting older and I wonder if this will be tough on them. Do they know what they have signed up for? Bubu and Peewee for 8 hours/day? I'll admit, they are getting easier the older they get, believe it or not, but it's not truly easy with two little kids all day.
All Bubu wants to eat is potato chips, fruit snacks, and the occasional chocolate donut hole. So let me tell you, that is wonderful. Absolutely delightful to deal with. I finally realize the trauma I caused my mother because I've been told that when I was a kid, all I ever wanted to eat was potato chips. For the record, I do not remember this.
I'm sure they will be fine, I mean it is the BOTH of them so they aren't outnumbered. I'm planning a couple dinner parties to keep us entertained. And honestly, I treasure the time they get to spend with Bubu and Peewee since they are so far away and see the kiddies so little each year. So dear mom and dad, I cannot wait to see you. I guess that feeling never goes away. I love you both!!!
I have weekend plans for us, but during the week, the hubby and I go to work so I told the nanny she's on vacation since mom and dad will be here. I think that this is ok, I mean, my mom told me to give the nanny this time off, but my parents are getting older and I wonder if this will be tough on them. Do they know what they have signed up for? Bubu and Peewee for 8 hours/day? I'll admit, they are getting easier the older they get, believe it or not, but it's not truly easy with two little kids all day.
All Bubu wants to eat is potato chips, fruit snacks, and the occasional chocolate donut hole. So let me tell you, that is wonderful. Absolutely delightful to deal with. I finally realize the trauma I caused my mother because I've been told that when I was a kid, all I ever wanted to eat was potato chips. For the record, I do not remember this.
I'm sure they will be fine, I mean it is the BOTH of them so they aren't outnumbered. I'm planning a couple dinner parties to keep us entertained. And honestly, I treasure the time they get to spend with Bubu and Peewee since they are so far away and see the kiddies so little each year. So dear mom and dad, I cannot wait to see you. I guess that feeling never goes away. I love you both!!!
Hey Stranger
Wow, it's been so long since I've written that I feel this might be a pure stream of consciousness. So here we go. I'll start with the kids. Bubu and Peewee are definitely entertaining little beings. I love watching their interactions with each other, even when they are beating one another. I sometimes sit back and allow them to beat eachother just to see how the other one handles the situation.
Last week, Bubu came into our room around 2am coughing. From experience we knew to get bath towels and lay them all over our bed so that when he coughed till he puked we'd protect our sheets. So, he puked some of that clear, slimy shit a few times and I said enough already. I'm in the medicine cabinet looking for children's cough syrup, cough drops, cough pills, oh! I found some grape cough strips, like little breath strips. Perfect!! I ripped a packet open and told Bubu to open his mouth and I dropped it on his tongue. Then after giving it to him, I read the box. For children 4 and under it says: Do Not Give. Fuck. Did I really just overdose my 2 year old? Well, it's 3am so in my hazy cloud, I decided to just see what happens and let him sleep in our bed with us to monitor his breathing. He totally zonked out, it was awesome. No more coughing, no more puking, I just had to check that he was breathing every hour. The next day I call our Pediatrician to confirm I won't go to jail for the overdose, and she confirms I'm safe. Whew.
The moral of the story is, it's probably a good idea to read the medicine box BEFORE administering meds to your children. But if you don't like to read, it's ok, the box is totally exxagerated.
Last week, Bubu came into our room around 2am coughing. From experience we knew to get bath towels and lay them all over our bed so that when he coughed till he puked we'd protect our sheets. So, he puked some of that clear, slimy shit a few times and I said enough already. I'm in the medicine cabinet looking for children's cough syrup, cough drops, cough pills, oh! I found some grape cough strips, like little breath strips. Perfect!! I ripped a packet open and told Bubu to open his mouth and I dropped it on his tongue. Then after giving it to him, I read the box. For children 4 and under it says: Do Not Give. Fuck. Did I really just overdose my 2 year old? Well, it's 3am so in my hazy cloud, I decided to just see what happens and let him sleep in our bed with us to monitor his breathing. He totally zonked out, it was awesome. No more coughing, no more puking, I just had to check that he was breathing every hour. The next day I call our Pediatrician to confirm I won't go to jail for the overdose, and she confirms I'm safe. Whew.
The moral of the story is, it's probably a good idea to read the medicine box BEFORE administering meds to your children. But if you don't like to read, it's ok, the box is totally exxagerated.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The Joys of Parenting
We had a wonderful weekend up in Tahoe over Memorial Day. We took the kids on another hiking adventure, went out for a few cocktails while Tutu and Papa babysat for us, and headed home Monday morning. I was excited to get home and put together Bubu's new toddler bed, well, the Hubby actually does all the home-purchase-assembly. All I had to do was get some toddler bedding and a few Target items and take the munchkins to a playdate at my girlfriends house. We shopped, we played, and we went home. Everything was right in my world in Roseville.
I tried to move the crib into a different room but it didn't fit through the door, and so I decided to just put both kids in one room and see what happens. It was kind of like my own little experiment with our kiddies. So, we read stories and put them down. Then, we laid on the floor outside their room to listen and watch if we saw Bubu's little feet under the door. We were ecstatic that all we saw was that Peewee dropped her paci and Bubu went, stole it, and returned to bed. Success!!! Well, kind of, I guess, I have a thief kid but he IS sleeping in his new toddler bed.
So, we go to bed and make bets on when Bubu will appear in our room. He appeared around midnight saying "Mommy, mommy" in that super high-pitched pitiful voice that means he doesn't feel good. I scooped him up and, of course, breaking all good parenting rules, put him in bed with us. We immediately realized he was burning up and since we know what fever feels like and that Tylenol has magical healing powers, I went to go get his "candy". As I was in the other room, I hear my husband start yelling, "He's puking!! He's puking in our BED!!" I ran back, grabbed the puker and threw him in the bathroom.We were both covered in vomit.
After a 103.4 fever, a couple calls to the pediatrician, and about 18 miserable hours later, the fever was gone. No runny nose, no nothing. I mean, what the f--- happened? Where did he even catch anything? In the f---ing woods? No other kids got sick, not the playdate kid, not Peewee, not me. I don't know what happened. I just know that I had to Shout Out puke all morning, crush Tylenol in Bubu's juice (because he refused to take the medicine), and I missed work for half a day.
As a parent, I guess you can't help but be scared. Actually petrified that a 103+ fever hits and you just pray it goes away quickly somehow. This was not bad in the long run. This was actually pretty easy...but I can't help but wonder, does it ever get easier?
I tried to move the crib into a different room but it didn't fit through the door, and so I decided to just put both kids in one room and see what happens. It was kind of like my own little experiment with our kiddies. So, we read stories and put them down. Then, we laid on the floor outside their room to listen and watch if we saw Bubu's little feet under the door. We were ecstatic that all we saw was that Peewee dropped her paci and Bubu went, stole it, and returned to bed. Success!!! Well, kind of, I guess, I have a thief kid but he IS sleeping in his new toddler bed.
So, we go to bed and make bets on when Bubu will appear in our room. He appeared around midnight saying "Mommy, mommy" in that super high-pitched pitiful voice that means he doesn't feel good. I scooped him up and, of course, breaking all good parenting rules, put him in bed with us. We immediately realized he was burning up and since we know what fever feels like and that Tylenol has magical healing powers, I went to go get his "candy". As I was in the other room, I hear my husband start yelling, "He's puking!! He's puking in our BED!!" I ran back, grabbed the puker and threw him in the bathroom.We were both covered in vomit.
After a 103.4 fever, a couple calls to the pediatrician, and about 18 miserable hours later, the fever was gone. No runny nose, no nothing. I mean, what the f--- happened? Where did he even catch anything? In the f---ing woods? No other kids got sick, not the playdate kid, not Peewee, not me. I don't know what happened. I just know that I had to Shout Out puke all morning, crush Tylenol in Bubu's juice (because he refused to take the medicine), and I missed work for half a day.
As a parent, I guess you can't help but be scared. Actually petrified that a 103+ fever hits and you just pray it goes away quickly somehow. This was not bad in the long run. This was actually pretty easy...but I can't help but wonder, does it ever get easier?
Sunday, May 6, 2012
The Thornton Family Hiking Chronicles
A few weeks ago, my husband decided we were going to go hiking every weekend after Bubu's soccer practice. He proceeded to buy hiking cross trainer shoes at REi for $130 in preparation for our future adventures. No comment.
Last weekend, we followed some directions he found on his phone. We drove down the freeway then took some exit and started down a long and windy country road into BFE. I started getting concerned after the first few miles because we didn't pack lunch, just a sole nutri-grain bar actually, and it was already past noon. I kept thinking we'd be that family that gets lost in the woods with no food. Finally after looking at the route more closely, we saw we weren't even half-way to the destination so we turned around. We happened to find a trail off the road back and thought we'd try it out since we had driven all the way out there. We pulled the double jog stroller out, got the kids strapped in, and set out.
It was just a little trail through the woods but it was nice! We were out of the house, no TV was on, it was awesome. Then we realized the front tire of the stroller was flat. That made it slightly more difficult for my husband who was the designated stroller pusher. Okay, that probably made it suck for him I think. So we found a spot in the sun next to the lake and Bubu threw rocks in the water for at least 10 minutes which felt like 4 hours. Then after dragging him away from the rocks, we headed back home.
That week I realized it was my duty to fix the tire on the stroller. I took it to a bike repair shop and got it fixed Tuesday at lunch. It was flat when I got home that night. I went on Wednesday on got it repaired again. It was flat again when I got home that night. I took a breather on Thursday so that I wouldn't unleash the wrath of Keya on the bike repair guys. Finally on Friday, I went again and got the tube replaced which worked. Needless to say, skipping lunch for three days to fix the hiking stroller tire was not a highlight of my life.
We looked up stroller friendly trails and headed out Saturday afternoon. Once again it was a long and windy road, but it was gorgeous views and we were excited to find our trail. About halfway up the hill, Bubu told us he wanted to get out, we tried to console him and told him we were almost there. He tried to tell us again about 5 more miles down the windy road, and we again said to sit tight, almost there buddy. Then he puked. And puked and puked. We stopped immediately and pulled Bubu out of his puke covered seat. I felt so bad for the little guy. Crying, covered in nastiness on the side of the road. We've actually done this before with Peewee in the snow so we tag teamed the cleanup, put Bubu in a clean sweatshirt, baby wiped everything down, and headed the last couple minutes to the entrance of the trail with Bubu in the front seat with me.
We had a good time once again, it was nice to be outside. Jackson busted and scraped his knee but seemed to stop crying when mommy and daddy sand songs, so we sang our standard choices, Old McDonald, Itsy Bitsy Spider, and Baby Got Back. He then had fun throwing rocks in the lake which I feel will be a requirement of all our hiking trips. In spite of the puke and bloody knee, we learned a lot and have picked out our next trail for next Saturday.
We'll see how it goes next week, with some Dramamine before we get in car.
Last weekend, we followed some directions he found on his phone. We drove down the freeway then took some exit and started down a long and windy country road into BFE. I started getting concerned after the first few miles because we didn't pack lunch, just a sole nutri-grain bar actually, and it was already past noon. I kept thinking we'd be that family that gets lost in the woods with no food. Finally after looking at the route more closely, we saw we weren't even half-way to the destination so we turned around. We happened to find a trail off the road back and thought we'd try it out since we had driven all the way out there. We pulled the double jog stroller out, got the kids strapped in, and set out.
It was just a little trail through the woods but it was nice! We were out of the house, no TV was on, it was awesome. Then we realized the front tire of the stroller was flat. That made it slightly more difficult for my husband who was the designated stroller pusher. Okay, that probably made it suck for him I think. So we found a spot in the sun next to the lake and Bubu threw rocks in the water for at least 10 minutes which felt like 4 hours. Then after dragging him away from the rocks, we headed back home.
That week I realized it was my duty to fix the tire on the stroller. I took it to a bike repair shop and got it fixed Tuesday at lunch. It was flat when I got home that night. I went on Wednesday on got it repaired again. It was flat again when I got home that night. I took a breather on Thursday so that I wouldn't unleash the wrath of Keya on the bike repair guys. Finally on Friday, I went again and got the tube replaced which worked. Needless to say, skipping lunch for three days to fix the hiking stroller tire was not a highlight of my life.
We looked up stroller friendly trails and headed out Saturday afternoon. Once again it was a long and windy road, but it was gorgeous views and we were excited to find our trail. About halfway up the hill, Bubu told us he wanted to get out, we tried to console him and told him we were almost there. He tried to tell us again about 5 more miles down the windy road, and we again said to sit tight, almost there buddy. Then he puked. And puked and puked. We stopped immediately and pulled Bubu out of his puke covered seat. I felt so bad for the little guy. Crying, covered in nastiness on the side of the road. We've actually done this before with Peewee in the snow so we tag teamed the cleanup, put Bubu in a clean sweatshirt, baby wiped everything down, and headed the last couple minutes to the entrance of the trail with Bubu in the front seat with me.
We had a good time once again, it was nice to be outside. Jackson busted and scraped his knee but seemed to stop crying when mommy and daddy sand songs, so we sang our standard choices, Old McDonald, Itsy Bitsy Spider, and Baby Got Back. He then had fun throwing rocks in the lake which I feel will be a requirement of all our hiking trips. In spite of the puke and bloody knee, we learned a lot and have picked out our next trail for next Saturday.
We'll see how it goes next week, with some Dramamine before we get in car.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
The Missing Caveat
ca·ve·at (k
v
-ät
)n.1. a. A warning or caution.
Two weeks ago, I had the most amazing 34th birthday. Wait, did I say 34th? I meant 29th. So anyways, I got breakfast in bed, some roses, a card, a wonderful lunch and wine tasting in Napa, it was awesome. And as a secondary part of my birthday, we took a family road trip down to Manhattan Beach to visit our friends and take the kids to the beach. We had a blast, it was great weather, we got to hang out with our closest buds, and then slowly, the shit storm started brewing.
My husband, in the excitement of being back in his hometown, with his hometown friends, forgot all parking laws and got two parking tickets. They are $48 each. At this point, a week later, I can understand making a mistake and I guess we all get stupid parking tickets sometimes, and Manhattan Beach is a bitch to park in, but in the moment, all I could think was "why didn't you get some f---ing quarters?"
Then we came home. I unpacked by dumping everything out on the floor including our parking tickets, and starting sorting through clean from dirty. In the moment, I decided that I was going to make the guest bathroom officially into the kids AND guest bathroom. I set up the step stools, training toothpaste, potty seat, and inform the nanny the next morning that all kid related bathroom activities will happen there now. Then, I get home from work the next day, and the nanny timidly informs me that they got locked out of the kids bathroom accidentally.
On the weekends, with two working parents that like to sleep, and kids that get up anytime between 5:30am and 6:30am, we have an agreement. I get a morning to sleep in, and you get a morning to sleep in. Deal, right? I took today as my morning since Dad's Night Out is tonight and daddy probably will want to sleep in tomorrow. After daddy and the kids got out of my room finally, I got to sleep for a good hour. It was nice. I get up around 9am and walk out into the living room to see my beautiful family.
Well, I don't see any kids or husband but instead I see a total disaster area of our house. The frying pan on the stove needs to be soaked for hours. Plates of uneaten scrambled eggs, shredded cheese and Cheerios scattered around randomly, but at least the coffee was made. So, of course, then I start cleaning. And cleaning. And cleaning. And then I remember the parking tickets so I start looking for them, everywhere. They are gone, nowhere to be found. Great. Fantastic.
Then, since Bubu has been brushing his teeth with water all week, I remember the locked bathroom door. I call a locksmith, and it ends up being $90 to get the damn bathroom door open. I really wanted to beat the locksmith with a baseball bat, but we don't own one.
If only someone had told me to feed the meter, to duct tape the kids bathroom door, that sleeping in had a nasty consequence, to buy a baseball bat...if only I'd gotten the missing caveat.
v-ät)n.1. a. A warning or caution.Two weeks ago, I had the most amazing 34th birthday. Wait, did I say 34th? I meant 29th. So anyways, I got breakfast in bed, some roses, a card, a wonderful lunch and wine tasting in Napa, it was awesome. And as a secondary part of my birthday, we took a family road trip down to Manhattan Beach to visit our friends and take the kids to the beach. We had a blast, it was great weather, we got to hang out with our closest buds, and then slowly, the shit storm started brewing.
My husband, in the excitement of being back in his hometown, with his hometown friends, forgot all parking laws and got two parking tickets. They are $48 each. At this point, a week later, I can understand making a mistake and I guess we all get stupid parking tickets sometimes, and Manhattan Beach is a bitch to park in, but in the moment, all I could think was "why didn't you get some f---ing quarters?"
Then we came home. I unpacked by dumping everything out on the floor including our parking tickets, and starting sorting through clean from dirty. In the moment, I decided that I was going to make the guest bathroom officially into the kids AND guest bathroom. I set up the step stools, training toothpaste, potty seat, and inform the nanny the next morning that all kid related bathroom activities will happen there now. Then, I get home from work the next day, and the nanny timidly informs me that they got locked out of the kids bathroom accidentally.
On the weekends, with two working parents that like to sleep, and kids that get up anytime between 5:30am and 6:30am, we have an agreement. I get a morning to sleep in, and you get a morning to sleep in. Deal, right? I took today as my morning since Dad's Night Out is tonight and daddy probably will want to sleep in tomorrow. After daddy and the kids got out of my room finally, I got to sleep for a good hour. It was nice. I get up around 9am and walk out into the living room to see my beautiful family.
Well, I don't see any kids or husband but instead I see a total disaster area of our house. The frying pan on the stove needs to be soaked for hours. Plates of uneaten scrambled eggs, shredded cheese and Cheerios scattered around randomly, but at least the coffee was made. So, of course, then I start cleaning. And cleaning. And cleaning. And then I remember the parking tickets so I start looking for them, everywhere. They are gone, nowhere to be found. Great. Fantastic.
Then, since Bubu has been brushing his teeth with water all week, I remember the locked bathroom door. I call a locksmith, and it ends up being $90 to get the damn bathroom door open. I really wanted to beat the locksmith with a baseball bat, but we don't own one.
If only someone had told me to feed the meter, to duct tape the kids bathroom door, that sleeping in had a nasty consequence, to buy a baseball bat...if only I'd gotten the missing caveat.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
General Upkeep
I've realized that I have friends in various stages of maternity and children so this posting is a random selection of thoughts, much like the Jack Handy random thoughts of Saturday Night Live Past. So, the two darkest times of pregnancy and post childbirth were when I was pregnant but had not popped yet and so no one in the general public could tell I was pregnant, I just looked large. And it would be rude if someone asked me if I were pregnant and I wasn't. So if you are in this stage currently, you should make a T-shirt that says "Yes, I'm pregnant." Wear it everyday. It will make you feel better. Trust me. The other dark period was after I gave birth and I somehow weighed the same as when I drove to the hospital. It's not logical and I did not fit into all the clothes in my closet for awhile. I would stare at my clothes every day, praying that they would still be somewhat in style when I finally fit into them again.
Now, I fit back into some of them, but as a Mom, I feel the need to not wear the slutty shit I used to wear. I didn't even consider this stuff slutty before! So maybe I should call them "not-so-conservative" clothes. Or basically, shirts that are too tight. Don't get me wrong, I want to be that "Hot Put-together Mom", who is accessorized and has her hair done. Really, I do. But I guess I must admit, that doesn't happen everyday.
Moving on to childbirth, if you can avoid a C-section, avoid it. Everyone who has had a C-section tells me that the scar is no big deal and it gets better over time, blah blah blah. They all say "Put some scar cream on it." Let me just say that Peewee is 8 months old today and I hate this f---ing scar. I don't know what else to say except it is f---ing gross and I hate it. And it itches.
Now for parenting random thoughts. I recently googled "How to potty train" and have decided that I'm not ready for that yet. I also googled "what do I feed my 8 month old" because it was only 17 months ago that I was feeding my previous 8 month old and that was SO long ago I have forgotten how babies work. I ignore Bubu's tantrums and try not to laugh at them when Peewee laughs at him. And it really is funny so it's seriously a challenge not to laugh. I have signed up Daddy and Bubu for spring soccer with a bunch of 2 year old kids, which I'm really excited about. Am I over-compensating for the fact that I wanted my parents put me in soccer or some other sport at a young age and they didn't? Maybe not. I know Bubu is little but I don't care, I just want him to go outside and run around.
I could go on with random thoughts forever but I'll just close with this. I loved Whitney Houston and she was such an amazingly gifted singer. Hearing her sing, to this day, will bring me to tears, and I love that about a beautiful voice and she definitely had a beautiful voice. Rest in Peace, Whitney. I admire your brilliant career.
Now, I fit back into some of them, but as a Mom, I feel the need to not wear the slutty shit I used to wear. I didn't even consider this stuff slutty before! So maybe I should call them "not-so-conservative" clothes. Or basically, shirts that are too tight. Don't get me wrong, I want to be that "Hot Put-together Mom", who is accessorized and has her hair done. Really, I do. But I guess I must admit, that doesn't happen everyday.
Moving on to childbirth, if you can avoid a C-section, avoid it. Everyone who has had a C-section tells me that the scar is no big deal and it gets better over time, blah blah blah. They all say "Put some scar cream on it." Let me just say that Peewee is 8 months old today and I hate this f---ing scar. I don't know what else to say except it is f---ing gross and I hate it. And it itches.
Now for parenting random thoughts. I recently googled "How to potty train" and have decided that I'm not ready for that yet. I also googled "what do I feed my 8 month old" because it was only 17 months ago that I was feeding my previous 8 month old and that was SO long ago I have forgotten how babies work. I ignore Bubu's tantrums and try not to laugh at them when Peewee laughs at him. And it really is funny so it's seriously a challenge not to laugh. I have signed up Daddy and Bubu for spring soccer with a bunch of 2 year old kids, which I'm really excited about. Am I over-compensating for the fact that I wanted my parents put me in soccer or some other sport at a young age and they didn't? Maybe not. I know Bubu is little but I don't care, I just want him to go outside and run around.
I could go on with random thoughts forever but I'll just close with this. I loved Whitney Houston and she was such an amazingly gifted singer. Hearing her sing, to this day, will bring me to tears, and I love that about a beautiful voice and she definitely had a beautiful voice. Rest in Peace, Whitney. I admire your brilliant career.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Fight the Jealous
It was icky and rainy outside Monday morning and I was on my way to work. At Starbucks, I stood and line and composed myself after running through the rain into the store like Kramer on Seinfeld. There were a few people in front of me so I had a moment to observe my environment and I noticed a woman next to the creamer station. She was reading a book, and for a split second, I was jealous. Jealous of her ability to sit there and read with her cup of coffee for some undetermined period of time. I love to read, but I don't seem to read books very often anymore. I read babycenter.com emails on my phone instead. I'd read at night before bed, but I have my 7 month old in a bassinet next to me in our bedroom so I can't turn on a freaking light. And yes, I know she should be in a crib but I haven't gotten that far yet. Anyways, I had to get to work so I hustled out of the store, but then I thought, that lady was old. I mean old like my mom, old. When I'm that old, I'll be able to read then too. So, I accepted that consolation prize and moved on.
Then I got home, and I was so excited to see Bubu and Peewee. We all sat together on the floor to play and almost immediately after I picked up Peewee to give her a hug hello, Bubu started insisting that I put her in her down and pick him up. And this wasn't the first occurrence of jealousy displayed. We've been running into it more and more lately. I looked away for a moment and when I looked back, Bubu was sitting behind Peewee slapping her on the back. No clue why, he just felt like beating her I guess. So, I explained that we don't beat the baby. I mean, really, I said, "No, no. We do NOT beat the baby. Okay?"
It's very interesting to see such a little kid experience this totally icky emotion that I wish I never felt as an adult. But we do, right? And so do our little kids. It's an awful emotion that we learn how to fight as we get older. My question is how do we teach them how to fight the jealous?
Then I got home, and I was so excited to see Bubu and Peewee. We all sat together on the floor to play and almost immediately after I picked up Peewee to give her a hug hello, Bubu started insisting that I put her in her down and pick him up. And this wasn't the first occurrence of jealousy displayed. We've been running into it more and more lately. I looked away for a moment and when I looked back, Bubu was sitting behind Peewee slapping her on the back. No clue why, he just felt like beating her I guess. So, I explained that we don't beat the baby. I mean, really, I said, "No, no. We do NOT beat the baby. Okay?"
It's very interesting to see such a little kid experience this totally icky emotion that I wish I never felt as an adult. But we do, right? And so do our little kids. It's an awful emotion that we learn how to fight as we get older. My question is how do we teach them how to fight the jealous?
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Binky Battles
Every year, my husband has a get-together trip with his high school buddies. It was this past weekend, and since I've gone back to work and have that weird absent mom guilt, I got all psyched up to have a fun-filled weekend with just me and the kiddies. I made all these plans in my head, like going to the park, taking them for a ride in their new red wagon, maybe even Target or grocery shopping, whoo hoo! So, here's what really happened.
Friday night was good. I maneuvered bath time and bedtime with the two munchkins and it actually went pretty smooth, if I do say so myself. I got both kids to sleep, poured a glass of wine, and relaxed for a moment thinking "this isn't so bad" and "I can handle this!" This was going to be an opportunity for me. All these months I've felt uneasy because I felt like the kids were learning how to behave based on someone else's example in place of mine. But now, I get to be the one and only example and disciplinarian for the whole weekend.
Saturday morning I decided that we'd run some errands first and then after nap time when it warmed up, we'd go to the park and play. It reminded me of my stay-at-home mom days where I planned some random errand almost every day just to get us out of the house and more importantly, to kill time. It wasn't as easy as last night but we got ready and piled into the car and we were off to Target to shop. Overall, not a bad trip, but eye-opening. Peewee slept through most of it and Bubu ate three cheese sticks out of the package that I had bought at the store. It kinda grossed me out and normally, I wouldn't have given in to the repeat requests for cheese sticks but honestly I wanted to avoid a public meltdown so I didn't fight it.
We made it home and I started making lunch for us. Bubu, thanks to the cheese stick meal at Target, refused to eat lunch but did still ask for a candy cane. Ugh, what was going on here?? Once again I was totally grossed out that all he had eaten so far was fat and now he was asking for sugar. Seriously, I was disgusted.
After nap time, I thought it would be so nice to go outside and play. I attempted to get Bubu into his jacket and shoes, and it was so weird, he totally fought me on it and didn't want to go. All he wanted was his pacifier. I went from Mommy Jekyll to Mrs. Hyde in less than 3 seconds and yelled "Fine, don't put your shoes on! We'll just sit here at home then and do nothing!" Bubu was totally okay with that. It made me wonder, if he's happy, then why am I pushing this? And the "paci" is just for naptime or bedtime so I had to had to let him lay on the floor and scream for awhile.
Saturday night, I had this great idea that I could give both kids a bath together now that Peewee could sit up by herself pretty good. I got the kids in the tub, and everyone was happy and playing with their bath toys. I got up and started cleaning up the bathroom like I always do when Bubu is in the tub. I picked up all their dirty clothes and turned around to dump them in the hamper when I hear Bubu yell, "baby fell down!" I spin around around and Peewee is totally submerged. I grabbed her up and out of the water and she was startled but breathing and fine. Let me just admit, that I was not fine, I almost started crying actually. I held Peewee tight in my arms for what seemed like forever on the floor in the bathroom. Needless to say, I've learned that 7 month old babies require more supervision than 2 year old kids in the tub.
The next day, I decided that morning was the best time for an outing and since it was chilly outside I took the kids to Chuckee Cheese. Sometimes I wonder, what the hell am I thinking? Well, I guess it wasn't too much of a nightmare, and Bubu had a blast as I followed him around pushing Peewee in her stroller through the tight spaces in between all the games and people. Oh and I only lost him twice, which I think is a victory. He actually won a bunch of tickets and so I let him pick out a prize in the glass case. He of course picks some incredibly large piece of candy and I hand the girl the tickets to count, and she says to me, "You have to go feed your tickets into that machine over there and get a receipt to get prizes." Huh? really? I have a 2 year old here pointing at this piece of candy like it's the most important thing in the whole world and you want me to go feed probably 100 tickets into a machine? So I take a deep breath and drag Bubu and the stroller over to the machine, where there's a line. I go to another machine, and it's out of order. Finally, I just ask a different cashier if I can just buy the candy instead of redeeming these stupid tickets. Yes, thank God, so I buy the $0.86 lollipop. Mind you, I've calculated that I spent over $100 of my time to get that lollipop. I get out to the parking lot, get the kids in the car and it's pretty windy so as I put the stroller away, I have freakin' tickets flying everywhere. I hate the Chuckee Cheese tickets.
I got my quality time with the kids, lots of laughs, a few tears, and I was happy when my husband walked in the door. Unfortunately, Bubu is only on Team Mom again and won't even let Daddy read him his bedtime stories. Maybe I should plan my girls weekend so Team Dad can win back his players.
Friday night was good. I maneuvered bath time and bedtime with the two munchkins and it actually went pretty smooth, if I do say so myself. I got both kids to sleep, poured a glass of wine, and relaxed for a moment thinking "this isn't so bad" and "I can handle this!" This was going to be an opportunity for me. All these months I've felt uneasy because I felt like the kids were learning how to behave based on someone else's example in place of mine. But now, I get to be the one and only example and disciplinarian for the whole weekend.
Saturday morning I decided that we'd run some errands first and then after nap time when it warmed up, we'd go to the park and play. It reminded me of my stay-at-home mom days where I planned some random errand almost every day just to get us out of the house and more importantly, to kill time. It wasn't as easy as last night but we got ready and piled into the car and we were off to Target to shop. Overall, not a bad trip, but eye-opening. Peewee slept through most of it and Bubu ate three cheese sticks out of the package that I had bought at the store. It kinda grossed me out and normally, I wouldn't have given in to the repeat requests for cheese sticks but honestly I wanted to avoid a public meltdown so I didn't fight it.
We made it home and I started making lunch for us. Bubu, thanks to the cheese stick meal at Target, refused to eat lunch but did still ask for a candy cane. Ugh, what was going on here?? Once again I was totally grossed out that all he had eaten so far was fat and now he was asking for sugar. Seriously, I was disgusted.
After nap time, I thought it would be so nice to go outside and play. I attempted to get Bubu into his jacket and shoes, and it was so weird, he totally fought me on it and didn't want to go. All he wanted was his pacifier. I went from Mommy Jekyll to Mrs. Hyde in less than 3 seconds and yelled "Fine, don't put your shoes on! We'll just sit here at home then and do nothing!" Bubu was totally okay with that. It made me wonder, if he's happy, then why am I pushing this? And the "paci" is just for naptime or bedtime so I had to had to let him lay on the floor and scream for awhile.
Saturday night, I had this great idea that I could give both kids a bath together now that Peewee could sit up by herself pretty good. I got the kids in the tub, and everyone was happy and playing with their bath toys. I got up and started cleaning up the bathroom like I always do when Bubu is in the tub. I picked up all their dirty clothes and turned around to dump them in the hamper when I hear Bubu yell, "baby fell down!" I spin around around and Peewee is totally submerged. I grabbed her up and out of the water and she was startled but breathing and fine. Let me just admit, that I was not fine, I almost started crying actually. I held Peewee tight in my arms for what seemed like forever on the floor in the bathroom. Needless to say, I've learned that 7 month old babies require more supervision than 2 year old kids in the tub.
The next day, I decided that morning was the best time for an outing and since it was chilly outside I took the kids to Chuckee Cheese. Sometimes I wonder, what the hell am I thinking? Well, I guess it wasn't too much of a nightmare, and Bubu had a blast as I followed him around pushing Peewee in her stroller through the tight spaces in between all the games and people. Oh and I only lost him twice, which I think is a victory. He actually won a bunch of tickets and so I let him pick out a prize in the glass case. He of course picks some incredibly large piece of candy and I hand the girl the tickets to count, and she says to me, "You have to go feed your tickets into that machine over there and get a receipt to get prizes." Huh? really? I have a 2 year old here pointing at this piece of candy like it's the most important thing in the whole world and you want me to go feed probably 100 tickets into a machine? So I take a deep breath and drag Bubu and the stroller over to the machine, where there's a line. I go to another machine, and it's out of order. Finally, I just ask a different cashier if I can just buy the candy instead of redeeming these stupid tickets. Yes, thank God, so I buy the $0.86 lollipop. Mind you, I've calculated that I spent over $100 of my time to get that lollipop. I get out to the parking lot, get the kids in the car and it's pretty windy so as I put the stroller away, I have freakin' tickets flying everywhere. I hate the Chuckee Cheese tickets.
I got my quality time with the kids, lots of laughs, a few tears, and I was happy when my husband walked in the door. Unfortunately, Bubu is only on Team Mom again and won't even let Daddy read him his bedtime stories. Maybe I should plan my girls weekend so Team Dad can win back his players.
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