“No, they are made from real dogs.”
said by my 6 year old when he was asked if we were roasting vegetarian hot dogs over the bonfire.
I didn’t know whether I should laugh that all this time he has thought I was serving him dog, or be horrified that a child who finds things like mashed potatoes, chicken, and applesauce too offensive to eat, would willingly eat what he believed to be dog.
and show that it is a very fine line between sharing and oversharing.
“I have to bring another “sample” to the doctor tomorrow.”
“Oh boy! Lucky you.”
“The doctor gave me the container to bring home so I could have some “help” getting the “sample”.”
“Oh boy! Lucky me!”
Time passes, “help” is rendered, and the “sample” is obtained.
“The doctor said I need to bring a “sample” in every day for an entire month.”
“Nice try.”
Eleven years ago I went to bed, feeling like I would be pregnant forever.
Eleven years ago at 3:00am my water broke while I was sleeping.
Eleven years ago at 3:01am, I had my first contraction and panicked because OH MY GOD it really hurts and who knows how long this is going to last. I don’t even like to do things that feel good for hours on end.
Eleven years ago at 3:03am, I had my second contraction and the realization hit me that this baby was really going to have to exit my body.
Eleven years ago at 3:05am, I had my third contraction and decided I wanted all the drugs that the hospital could give me and I wanted them right now and why wasn’t Rob moving more quickly. Who cares if he isn’t dressed.
Eleven years ago I threw the telephone across the room when the doctor told me to try to talk through a contraction so he could assess if it was time to come to the hospital. When Rob retrieved the phone the doctor said, yes it would appear to be time.
Eleven years ago we walked out the front door of our apartment as a family of two for the last time.
Eleven years ago when a nurse told me she had four children I told her she was crazy. That anyone who would go through this more than once was crazy. And then I cried because my baby was going to be an only child.
Eleven years ago I pushed for three hours before telling the doctor that I changed my mind, I really didn’t want a baby thankyouverymuch, and please just make it stop.
Eleven years ago the doctor attached a vacuum to the top of your head and pulled you from my body. I think we both screamed.
Eleven years ago a piece of my heart began living outside of my own body and I would never be the same again.
Eleven years ago I began this journey of motherhood; eleven years later I am still navigating the way with you in the lead.
Happy Eleventh Birthday, my first born son.
“Remember when I said that I was committed to flossing my teeth twice a day for the rest of my life?”
“Yeah.”
“Well tonight when I was flossing I think I was a little overzealous. I yanked one of my fillings right out.”
“I told you flossing is highly over rated.”
“Yeah.”
“One day the ADA is going to do a complete reversal on the entire flossing thing. Mark my words. I should write this down because one day no one will ever believe I said it first.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll write it down for you.”
“Thanks.”
“That way when all your teeth fall out from advanced gum disease I can bring it up. I’m loving like that.”
For those of you interested, my newest post is up over at dotmoms.
This weekend I came to the sad sad sad realization that I am getting old. I came to this realization based on several factors.
First, when I look at the so-called fashionable clothes I laugh. What is this clothing item called a shrug, and why do I want to wear something who’s sole purpose seems to be creating extra bulk on my body?
Second, I wistfully expressed my ( mostly theoretical) desire for botox shots to my children. When I explained to them what the shots were for, one of them asked why I would want to get SO many shots ALL OVER my face. Two words… justifiable homicide. I’ll miss that kid.
Third, I am a full year older than I thought I was. I mean I *know* how old I am when I stop and do the math, I just prefer not to think about it.
Fourth, in the spirit of being a “fun” mom, I did a cartwheel across by backyard. I was limping for days afterward.
Fifth, ninety percent of the things I use every day were not even invented when I was a child. When my children ask me, “What did you do when you were a kid?” I tell them I crushed my own berries to paint on the wall of my cave. And I enjoyed it, damn it.
So, I have compiled a list of things that I want to accomplish before I turn forty, which will happen in exactly 3.5 years.
Forty Things To Do Before I Turn Forty:
1) Learn to knit, so I can one day knit a blanket, scarf, long chain for my grandchildren
2) Start and continue an exercise regime for three months, even if it kills me
3) Do sit ups everyday for 3 months
4) Learn to accept my body and all it’s imperfections (yeah, right)
5)Read novels I should have already read, classics I read a long time ago and either hated them with a fiery passion or loved them with a fiery passion to see if time has changed my feelings towards them
6) Go to Paris with my husband
7) Spend a summer in Italy with my children
See the Grand Canyon
9) Take my kids to a Broadway show. I used to go frequently when I was child and have such fond memories of the experience
10)Bring my daughter to the American Girl Cafe
11)Find my father, before he ends up dying and I never get to meet him.
12) Renew my wedding vows and have a party to celebrate, since we never had a wedding.
13)Finish writing a book (should probably start it too.)
14) Go through all our photographs and select some to matte and frame. AND hang them on the wall in our family room.
15)Gather pictures of our home renovation and compile them into a coffee table scrapbook thing
16)Spend an entire 24 hour day without once yelling
17)Bring my children to one of those indoor playgrounds and let them play without making myself nauseous over the amount of germs and bacteria they are touching and NOT once force them to go and wash their hands in the middle of playing. (Not sure I can do this one as just typing it is making me sick to my stomach.) I do draw the line at coating their hands with hand sanitizer and spraying them down with lysol before they get into the van; there are just some things that I can’t give up.
18) Ride on a rollercoaster, and if I feel particularly daring one that goes upside down
19) Catch up on buying all my children their annual Christmas ornament. (The idea is that I buy the children an ornament every year that represents them at that year of their life. When they grow up they will take the ornaments. Though who knows they will probably think it is totally stupid and queer and I will be stuck with all these ornaments on my tree forever or my attic)
20) Work tirelessly to rid the fashion world of low waisted pants by complaining constantly to anyone who will listen.
21) Dig out my paints and easel and paint a painting
22) Hang the painting up somewhere in my house
23) Read the entire Narnia series aloud to my younger children
24) Take all my children to a baseball game at Fenway Park, wear a baseball hat, cheer and pretend I am a fan for the day
25) Find a reliable babysitter
26) Buy a huge bottle of vitamins and take them every day until the bottle is empty, without missing a day
27) Make it a habit to drink 8 glasses of water a day
28) Finish renovating my house
29) Get rid of all the things in my house that are just clutter and would benefit someone else
30) Make an ice skating rink in my back yard, build a bonfire, make hot chocolate, and have a skating party and enjoy it
31) Learn html
32) Learn how to make a really good pie crust, from scratch
33) After I finish nursing my youngest baby, buy some new expensive bras and matching underwear
34) Re-invent my mother’s ring since it is missing a few stones
35) Buy a plant and keep it alive, instead of treating plants as if they are meant to be disposable
36) Practice saying the word “forty” so that I can learn to not throw up a little while I say it
37) Unpack all the boxes in my attic and label properly the things that will stay
38) Organize a box for each child to hold their special childhood crap memorabilia, limit size of said box so that they can never say they don’t have room for it in their own house
39) Keep the flowers alive in my flower boxes on my front porch for an entire summer. This will be accomplished by watering them instead of ignoring them and blaming drought like weather for their demise
40) Come to grips with the fact that I am closer to 40 than I want to realize and there is no way I will be able to accomplish all of these things
A decade ago if you had told me that I would be spending my Friday night going to a Wiggles show, I would not have believed it.
A decade ago if you had told me that I would be looking forward to it, I would have laughed.
A decade ago if you told me that I wouldn’t want to spend my Friday evening any other way, I would have called you crazy.
A decade ago I could not have known that seeing my child’s eyes light up at the sight of four grown men dressed in colored shirts, singing insipid songs, and overacting would fill me with such joy.
A decade ago I could not have imagined that the happiness of my child would matter so much.
There is a loud banging on the bathroom door.
“Mom, what are you doing?” a voice says. I can tell that the lips of the person are pressed right up against the crack of the door.
“Uh, I am using the bathroom.” I answer.
“Using it for what?”
“Do I really need to give you details of my bathroom habits?”
“Well, I hear paper rustling.”
“It’s the toilet paper, I think.”
“No it’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I can smell candy through the door. And don’t try to tell me that is how your poop smells.”
My husband has a full size refrigerator/freezer at his office. In the year he has been working at this office a few people have occasionally made use of the refrigerator for storing their lunches. The freezer, however, has always been completely empty.
A couple of months ago, Rob decided that he would bring some food in to put in the freezer, so that when those days arise where he can’t go out for lunch, because he is too busy, doesn’t have the inclination, or whatever the case may be, he can go to the freezer take out a hot pocket or something similar and microwave it. And there, instant lunch! He brought a couple of boxes and stacked them neatly in the back corner of the freezer. The rest of the freezer remained empty and unused.
That is until yesterday.
Rob went into the freezer to get his last hot pocket and found this:
The entire freezer is filled with containers of soup.
He stood there looking at it in disbelief, wondering if it was some sort of practical joke, when one of the secretaries, or whatever the more politically correct word is now, came into the room.
“Do you know what is up with all this soup?” he asked.
“Oh yes, it’s mine.” she answered, “I just love soup.”
And here we come to reason #432 of why I could never have a job where I had to work with people. I would have been forced to say something like, “What the hell do you mean you love soup? Don’t you have freezer space at your own home? Are you anticipating a soup shortage and stocking up for the long cold winter?”
And then I would have taken a picture of it and posted it on my blog. I like soup too, just in moderation.
I have been giggling about it all day. Yes, it doesn’t take much to excite me as evidenced by yesterdays post. I forced Rob to go with his camera phone and take a picture of it for me. I just had to see the former cool whip and butter containers pressed into service as tupperware.
I was not disappointed.
This morning while showering I forced to make a difficult decision. Do I:
A) shower while a screaming baby bangs on the shower door because he can’t see me clearly through the frosted glass. “Oh My God, I HAVE NOT YET LEARNED OBJECT PERMANENCE, therefore my mother (and more importantly the breasts which are attached to her) has ceased to exist. Woe is me.” or,
B) shower with the shower door open, simultaneously flooding the bathroom and freezing my butt off in spite of having the water temperature set to scald.
Guess which one I chose?
In other related news, I washed my bathroom floor today.
My life is so damn exciting that I can hardly stand it sometimes.
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Notes from the Trenches
fighting the war on tantrums since 1994
