Flashback Friday

Yes, it's that time of year again.  So I thought it would be best to post a reminder about some basic skills necessary to navigate the drop-off/pick-up routine at school this year.  Read up.  Take notes.  

PULL UP!

Rules for Drop-off/Pick-up at school:

1.  Pull up.

2.  Pull ALL THE WAY up.  To the front of the line, the beginning of the cones, the end of the curb, wherever is the farthest point at which you can pull up.

3.  If your child needs more help than a few encouraging words; park your car, help your kid out and walk him/her up to the door.  Getting out of your car and running around to the other side and giving me some exasperated eye roll as if little Jimmy never needs this much help at home, does not make me feel sorry for you.  It only stokes my drop-off rage.  I know my kids well enough to know how much help they need getting in and out of a car.  Slim is called Slim for a reason, and car doors are not his specialty.  (Thank God for the automatic minivan side doors.  I used to scoff at people who had these--back when I owned a minivan that didn't even have a driver's side slider or automatic anything.  I scoffed.  Until Slim started Kindergarten.)

4.  Don't get out of your vehicle.  See above.  If you are out of your vehicle, you cannot possibly pull up.  Do not ask the drop-off/pick-up adult where your kid is.  The other day some lady (who didn't even pull all the way up!) got out of her vehicle with a note in her hand and was trying to flag down the lone adult out there, saying something about she was a friend of Joey's mom and she was supposed to pick him up.  This was wrong on SO many levels.  First of all, whoever sent her obviously didn't give her the lowdown on procedure, but that is minor considering the rest of her transgressions.  Why would you jump out of your car (one in a long line) in the middle of school dismissal and try and introduce yourself to your coworker/friend's son and the random adult supervising pick-up that day (who may or may not know Joey any better than you do)?  From the way she was trying to introduce herself to "Joey" it didn't seem he knew her very well.  Why wouldn't she go into the office and explain the situation to school staff?  Or hopefully the kid's mother had the sense to call the school and the kid had the sense to get proof before traipsing off with a stranger.  Of course this prompted a grilling session with Moo on the way home:  What would you have done if someone approached you and said that?  Would you go with them?  Would you go back into the school?.........

5.  If you think you've pulled up enough, try another car-length or two.  I'm not sure I can say it better than I did in September on my Facebook status:

Wow! Even at intermediate school people can't handle the drop-off. Here's a few clues for you: 1. Those things dangling from your kid's butt? They're called legs, and they are meant to be walked on. So, you can 2. PULL UP! In case you haven't noticed you are not the only person dropping off your child. If you pull up, several of us can let our kids out at the same time and keep the line moving. I know these are radical ideas for some of you, but change can be good. Keep an open mind. Thanks. 

I just get totally bent by people who think their kids are too good to walk a few extra steps.  Junior does not need to get out exactly in front of the doors, or exactly at the dip in the curb.  And if you think Sally shouldn't have to walk a little more to get inside, she probably needs to walk a little more.  More likely, you should park your car and walk her up because I'm sure you could use the exercise too.  (God forbid if it's raining.)  And it just seems that so many people do not understand the concept that they are not the only ones dropping their kids off.  The more you pull up, the more of us that can let our kids out and the less time this whole process takes. There is a great big world around you with other people in it.  We, too, are trying to get to work, drop off our other kid, get to the grocery store, hurry home and Facebook, etc.

6.  Follow the line.  Don't drive around anyone for obvious safety reasons.  Slim's school (the elementary) recently changed the drop-off route.  We have to drive around the little back parking lot before turning into the actual drop-off lane.  Basically it's like a giant figure eight on acid.  It really is helpful in relieving traffic on the street which was the intention in changing it, but some people can't seem to handle the change or they are just too good to wait in the line before they can peel wheels out of the lot and be on their way.  They park their cars, walk up to get their kid and then rush back to their cars and try and get out before the line backs up.  Hurry up and wait.  Makes sense to me.
(Of course the exception to this rule is at the Intermediate drop-off lane which is a huge "U" that is super wide.  Here they have a few cones arranged in a bottleneck at the inside curve to prevent assholes from jumping the line and running anyone over, but past the bottleneck you have to PULL UP [tada!] so that any cars behind you CAN go around.  Especially at pick-up, since even though you may be near the front of the line, your child may not be the first one out of the school and into your car.)

7.  PULL THE HELL UP!   Every day I marvel that we are so much closer to the end of the year and yet still so far from smoothing the wrinkles out.  At the Intermediate school (4th and 5th grades in our town) haven't most of us been doing this for five or six years now?  People spend less time than this getting college degrees and we can't master a giant left turn with traffic cones and a complete stop in the middle.


So if you haven't surmised, I have a secret desire to be the drop-off/pick-up nazi, yelling at everyone to pull up and making sure nobody pulls into the lane without driving around first.  And heaven help you if you send Grandma to pick the kids up.  You better send her in with a diagram, a map, a GPS and a copy of these rules.

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My First Baby - Ketchup With Us #24

Baby girl, so BIG.  Is it appropriate to say that I gave birth to a toddler? 

Nine pounds, two ounces.  Solid and strong.  No newborn sizes for this girl.

My best sleeper.  (Still is.)  

Snuggly baby.  

Shy little girl.

Outgoing preteen--now so tall.  

My beautiful Lovey.  My freckly Feckle. 

My first baby.  Always, my first baby.  

'KETCHUP WITH US' - PROMPT 24

In 57 words or less, tell us about a significant first day in your life … of school, work, parenthood, rehab, veganism, prison, whatever you want.

If you want to "Ketchup" with Old Dog New Tits and According to Mags click on over.  The hilarious pictures alone are worth it!  

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The Most Wonderful time of the Year....

If you just thought of the old Staples commercial with the in-your-face dad skipping through the aisles shopping for back-to-school items and the miserable kids, good job, that was exactly my intention. I'm SO ready.  I mean, I'm kinda not, but I am.  On the "why I am so ready" list?  Today:

Actually last week's list, but this one looked
much more productive.

I had big plans for today. Nothing too crazy, just wanted to get some crap DONE.  First on the list was to get to the lab early because Moo needed bloodwork and anyone worth their salt knows that your have to get there early lest you sit and wallow with the blue-hairs, waiting an eon for the pleasure of meeting the phlebotomic vampires in scrubs. The only thing about that was The Geel wasn't being particularly cooperative this morning and nothing would "shy" her up faster than being surrounded by a bunch of geriatrics smiling and wiggling their fingers trying to get her attention.  In this way, the lab did not disappoint.  But I'm getting ahead of myself....

Before the day even got that good we're at home "getting ready to go" and by that I mean, sitting around like lumps while I repeat myself ad nauseum that we need to "get going" and "get there early" and "get this over with" all the while trying to feed myself, The Geel and Slim and get some measure of coffee ingested before we go, and scrounging in my purse to make sure the lab orders were still where I shoved them three weeks ago at her pediatric endocrinologist appointment.  It was probably a good thing that Moo needed to fast for this labwork because while I'm trying to feed the rest of us, she's laying on the couch moaning that her stomach hurt.

Now I am not unsympathetic, but sometimes Moo has a flair for the dramatic.  And sometimes, she simply has symptoms of high or low blood sugar that are explainable.  This was not either of those times.  She came out of the bathroom and informed me that she needed help since she had thrown up.  I go in armed to the teeth with paper towels, bleach cleaner and the like, only to see that she (TURN AWAY, YE SQUEAMISH) horked up great gobs of mucus--likely due to a persistent post-nasal drip and her apparent inability to blow that crap down and OUT of her nose.  That cleaned up and everyone suitably dressed and shoe'd, off we go--a mere hour and a half later than my originally intended departure time.

We get there at a good time because only two people were waiting ahead of us, but it quickly filled up behind us and we still waited forever.  Plenty of time for The Geel to begin her daily epic battle with me for my cell phone.  When we are finally called up we go in the back and while one tech is tapping Moo's vein the other one asks us if anyone explained the 24 hour creatine test. Um, that would be no.

Apparently, we have to collect Moo's urine for a full 24 hours and, AND KEEP IT COLD.  Yes, that's right, refrigerate.  Yeah, so, the watermelon I just cleared space for in the fridge?  Might need to move him over and make room for that specimen container.  I don't get skeeved too easily, but I really do not want my daughter's urine taking up space next to my fresh fruit and my leftovers.  Thankfully the tech suggested that some people just set it in a bucket of ice in a cool area.  I'll take Option 2, thankyouverymuch.

Don't be jealous of this swank set-up.

"Lucky" for us we get these massive ice packs when Moo's insulin comes in the mail and I have an insulated reusable grocery bag that is ripped at the top and missing the zipper.  Won't miss that one a bit, because it definitely will NOT be going back in the reusable bag rotation after being on specimen duty.

One of the other things I wanted to accomplish today was working out.  I've been pretty dedicated this whole past week despite my haphazard attempt a couple of weeks ago.  I've been doing Focus T25 and so far so good.  Trying to stay on that wagon.  One of the things I like about it is the countdown clock on the screen. Except today my workout went something like this:

     25:00 Start

     24:34 Stop. Change Geel's diaper    

     24:11 Stop. Get Geel juice.

     23:26 Pause while The Geel crawls under me.

     21:23 Stop because something went wrong with my laptop and it skipped 10 whole minutes.

     Restart, etc, etc.

For me, T25 is really T45-50, depending on how many "breaks" I get.  How many extra calories do I burn changing diapers and making juice runs?  I may have to contact Shaun T so that he can modify the workouts properly for moms of toddlers.  

No matter what I have on my  TO DO list, I'll always have to stop and feed the animals. While I'm griddling up two grilled cheese for the girls, Slim was entertaining The Geel.  As was explained to me later, she was on a mission to destroy some lego creation of his and so he went running with it.  She chased him back to his room where he turned and attempted to shut the door so that she wouldn't see where he hid it.  Only she was faster than he anticipated because she got to the door and even got her hand on the door jamb, before he slammed the door shut and crushed her pinky in it.  Screaming from both ensued.  

I can say without a doubt that Slim was crying louder and harder than The Geel.  He was so upset that he hurt her.  I ran back, saw her little mangled finger and I almost started crying myself.  It looked much worse than it was.  She seemed to be able to bend it just fine.  Mostly it was getting swollen with bruising and the skin was torn on either side, but it didn't seem broken.  I held my baby while my big boy was wracked with sobs next to us on the couch and the "excitement" gave way to exhaustion....

You don't want to see what's under the bandage.

 ...and the grilled cheeses sandwiches were burning in the kitchen.  Thankfully Moo was able to stop the house from burning down with them, but since The Geel was asleep on me, my ability to get much of anything else done was pretty limited.  Naps all around!  I fell asleep on the couch with The Geel, Moo fell asleep on the chair and Slim was chillin' like a villain with the TV all to himself.  

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Why I DON'T workout.

See, I could have written why I CAN'T workout, but I don't want to sound like I'm carrying around 10 pounds of baby weight AND 5 pounds of excuses.  I DON'T workout because when I do, this shit happens....

I have been pretty motivated (for me, that is--everything's relative, you know) about working out lately.

• I have been inspired by Sue Diamond-Philips at Diapers or Wine?.  Mama is rockin' a hot bod after crap tons of HARD WORK and she is not shy about the before-and-afters.  I want to say "unbelievable" but they are totally not unbelievable for all the effort.  UH-mazing!  
• I also have a neighbor who is working her butt off, too.  She runs, so naturally I don't ask if I can workout with her, but she works up a sweat regularly.  She's done some runs and one of those muddy run things which is just combining two things that don't appeal to me in the least bit--getting covered with muck, and running.  No need to make room on the bucket list for that one.
• Then there's my sister-in-law who does triathalons and stuff.  She works her butt off too and I'm sure she'd give me a great kick in the ass if we lived closer than 4 hours apart.

Anyway, I keep actually WANTING to workout, but honestly haven't had time.  Any normal week has it's own challenges, but this past week was pretty cray-cray with the local fair. We're not major fair-going folk, but I had to represent at our booth for work two nights and Slim had two shifts at his Cub Scouts smoothie stand.  This made for three nights in a row of 10 pm bedtime (and my crew is usually in bed by 8) and subsequent days of lost naps by The Geel, which made the next bedtime painfully long and drug out, etc. etc. etc.  

Twilight at the fair

Anyway, was I writing about working out? Oh yeah.  So today I actually had TIME.  TIME to workout. Now of course, since I haven't done it in, well honestly probably almost or maybe more than a year, I was kinda lost.  I mean, I've been thinking about it A LOT, but I was thinking about, like, how good I could look, and how I was kinda wanting to feel that after-workout soreness I haven't felt in longer than I can remember, and about how much better my clothes will fit.  (The wardrobe is in protest.)  I hadn't actually got around to the logistics of doing it.

Fashion first, baby!

Thank goodness for Xfinity on Demand.  The Sports & Fitness section has a metric crap-ton of choices. Almost too many--I kind froze up for a few seconds before I found something quick I could start out with while Slim helped The Geel finish up lunch.  I ran back to my bedroom, threw on some almost-too-"fitted" workout pants and dialed up some fitness On Demand.  So my first choice was an 8 minute butt number.

This chick promises me that I will feel all of this tomorrow.  I was feeling it after the second rep, but I'm an overachiever like that, so....  The thing you really want to pay attention to is the little extras I threw in just to challenge myself.  First Slim comes in in half a pirate outfit that needed the belt untied.  Now if you're gonna add this step, PLEASE be sure that the belt is knotted in at least 6 (yes, 6!) places.  Otherwise, what's the point?  Oh, and be sure that your child times it perfectly so that you are in a sideways facing lunge and that you untie the last two knots in a low isometric hold while your knee is hovering millimeters from the floor and you can no longer feel your left butt cheek.  That's when you're doing it right. 

On your next move make sure your toddler yells for you incessantly from the kitchen with increasing volume and intensity, until you are no longer able to not respond.  It is certain that Slim would not let any harm come to her, but she could care less about that because I'm not in the room so everything is an emergency that requires screaming for mommy.  Be sure that when you yell at the top of your lungs to answer her that you lose track of your reps and then miss switching sides so that one side gets WAY more worked out than the other. (And I'll probably be walking with a limp tomorrow.)  And also, it really amps up your intensity, when your two-year-old is, in fact, yelling, "MOMMY, I POOPED!!!!" so timing is really critical.

After adding a jog to the kitchen to rescue the toddler and change a diaper, I decided to try a second short workout.  Why not?  Everything was going great so far.  I opted for 10-minute basic Pilates.  This is best accomplished by keeping the toddler with you in the room, because after you lose the first 40 of the Pilates 100 to correcting your toddlers's positioning (they are the best workout partners--ALWAYS challenging you) you can make up that lost sweat trying to maintain your position and your breathing while having the toddler climb all over you like a human jungle gym.  Then to top it all off, (AGAIN, the timing!) be sure that the toddler leaves the room from boredom, then returns just as you are lowering you leg in a single leg circle that clocks her in the noggin.  Then you get to end your workout, snuggling with your crying baby and apologizing for trying to fit back into your pre-baby body jeans.

Oh well. Maybe next time.

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The Laws Of Laundry

I'm no expert at a lot of things, but I've done a load of laundry or two or 1,000 in my day.  In fact, I've done no less than 7 in the last 18 hours.  And although I couldn't possibly hope to ever be finished the laundry (ever.) I have definitely learned much along the way and feel obligated to share with you my knowledge on the subject.

1. The one piece of clothing that you missed grabbing out of the hamper is the exact thing that your preteen daughter NEEDS to wear today. 

2. The moment you remember to throw a load in to wash that blouse/work shirt/pair of jeans you need, is exactly the same moment three people in your household will need to take a shower, and precisely the same moment you remember that you loaded the dishwasher and forgot to start it.

3. You can never buy too much detergent. Maybe this is just my own personal hoarding issue, but when detergent goes on sale, I stock up.  When Sharknado hits or the zombie apocalypse comes, you may have plenty of water and canned goods stowed away, but how are you going to wash those blood-stained clothes?

4. If and when it ever so happens that you "finish" all of your laundry (finished laundry--does that qualify as an oxymoron?) and by "finish" I mean the 11 seconds of peace you have when......

• all of the laundry in the laundry room is actually laundered 
• you take a breath before you start folding all of it and
• not quite enough time has passed that the hampers are full again

....that is when your toddler will smear and spill strawberries, ketchup and/or chocolate down the front of her shirt, and you will actually wish you had laundry to do.  Instead you cross your fingers and Spray n' Wash the shirt like Al Pacino in Scarface.

5. The day you come home from vacation with all of your souvenir knick-knacks, t-shirts (more laundry?) and dirty clothes is the day your washer will break.  Hopefully you won't have to wait 10 days for the repairman.  Hopefully.

6. Your washer will go wildly and loudly off balance right about the time your toddler drifts off to sleep for her 37 minute nap after 45 minutes spent reading, singing and laying down with her.

7. Never forget to check your own pockets. I am usually good at checking the kids clothes for the usual detritus that could end up going the distance in the washer and dryer, including but not limited to: jewelry, coins, Legos, rocks,  barrettes, wrappers, wads of paper, paper clips, lip balm and/or gloss (my biggest peeve), pens (usually The Sarge), keys, erasers, and money.  There may or may not have recently been a still-wrapped-but-very-bloated "emergency" maxi pad I vaguely recall stashing in my pocket the other day that, upon it's removal from the dryer, inspired this post.

And while I was writing this (for reals) The Sarge found his "lost" debit card.

I can't make this crap up.....

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A Monday Montage

Last week I turned 40.  For the past several years The Sarge and I have gone out to an expensive dinner for my birthday.  And really, that's about all we could have managed the last two years anyway, with a clingy infant on our hands.

This year I wanted to do something a little different and so we made plans to go to New York City with some good friends, bum around the Lower East Side and get dinner and drinks. It was a ton of fun and a success on other levels as well (childcare, to name one.)

A gorgeous day in the city.  A view from The New Museum.

Views from the streets.

          

This place.  Like a walk down memory lane, and a place to buy a new favorite t-shirt.

The downside.

Despite the blisters (there was a matching one on the other pinky toe), I am already thinking about next year.  Happy Birthday to me!

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Pulling the Plug

I have been trying for weeks now to bust out this post.  I wanted to wait before shouting from the roof lest I eat crow, as before.

~

Tonight I did it.  I pulled the plug.  I cold-turkeyed these bitches.

I have been telling The Geel for weeks now that we were going to stop nur-nurs soon.  And she would nod her head with appropriate seriousness and then smile and say "Nur-nur sides?"  In other words, "Suuuure, Mommy.  You keep telling yourself that.  Now shut up and feed me."

My master plan was to start while The Sarge was away, because as much of a hard nose as he thinks he is, he just can't listen to the crying-it-out.  I'm not saying I enjoy it any, but I will tolerate it if I have to.  So he goes away for two weeks for some training, and what looked good on paper weeks ago, suddenly seems like a half-baked idea with a slight lack of forethought.

First of all, the new summer babysitter (awesomest EVER--but that's another post) started on Monday and it's the last full day of school for Moo and Slim, so The Geel is with the new sitter all by herself for a day.  Then she wakes up the next day and Daddy is gone.  And so, after those two realizations, I thought that perhaps I should rethink the idea.

Not to mention the fact that I feel like she just isn't ready to give it up.  Years ago when I first had Moo, I had a friend shared with me one of her parenting philosophies:  Babies/kids have needs and if you fill those needs when they have them, they will outgrow the need.  Seems logical, and it seems to have held true for Moo and Slim regarding nursing and many other things.  Now needing to nurse and wanting to nurse are, of course, two very different things.  I know that she doesn't need to nurse, but of course, she wants to.

Most days she wants to nurse immediately when we walk in the house after I pick her up from daycare.  I had tried many times to limit nur-nurs only to "nappies" and "night-nights" but soon found that 3-5 minutes spent nursing The Geel dramatically reduces the time it takes me to make dinner (once you count the exorbitant amount of time it takes to wrestle a toddler from your legs numerous times while handling hot food and cookware).

Even when Moo and Slim do try to help distract her it is always in vain.  The girl will not be swayed, she will not be distracted or bribed.  Or she will "let" her self be bribed and then turn around and expect to nurse anyway.  Persistence is her forte.  And I would be lying if I didn't say that it wasn't a tad convenient.  Tired?  Nurse her.  Hungry?  Nurse her.  Bump her head?  Nurse her.  But mainly it's just the fastest easiest way to get her to sleep when she's with me.

Anyway, I have been talking this up for weeks.  I have been telling her that there will be no more nur-nurs soon.  That Mommy just can't do it anymore, my nur-nurs are getting tired and that it's not nice and snuggly for Mommy anymore.  I'm sure she comprehended what I was saying, but didn't believe what I was saying.  You know, "Suuuure, Mommy.  You keep telling yourself that.  Now shut up and feed me."

So I did it.  I ended it.  I reminded her of what I have been saying for weeks.  I told her that I would lay down with her, and that she might be sad and that she would probably still want to do nur-nurs, but that we would not be doing it anymore.  And amazingly, she was okay.  She did get a little upset, and she did ask once or twice, but it wasn't the major ordeal I was anticipating.  It was not the earth-shattering, world-rocking devastating event that I thought it would be.  It was okay.  She was okay.

~

And as soon as I shut down my computer last night, I realize that maybe I'm the one who's not okay.  I don't get all sentimental about The Geel being my last baby.  I mean, let's remember, she was sort of not really part of the plan to begin with.  I am perfectly fine with her growing up and have often joked from the beginning that I'd like to fast forward 4 or 5 years--past diapers and the sleepless nights and nursing.  

But in the thick of it here, I think I am missing something.  It's like waging a war.  Every day you fight and fight.  I whined about nursing, I begged and bribed her just to not do it.  I was weary with the effort--both of nursing and of resisting it.  The nursing itself wasn't so taxing, but emotionally I was starting to hate it, to dread it.  It was draining.  No pun intended.  

Now that it is gone, the war is over, I can go back to......something.  Can I go to Mom's Night Out again?  My book club?  Could I meet a friend for a glass of wine?  It seems possible now, and yet it seems weird and almost wrong.  Like I shouldn't be able to.  From the first night, I stayed up too late.  First I wanted to write about it, but the second night and the third I sat up waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Waiting for the inevitable #epicfail that didn't come.  

Don't get me wrong, this has not been without some bumps.  Yesterday's naptime was a particularly ugly knock-down, drag-out match between me and the Terrible Two-ster.  It would have been SO easy to just start nursing her (and she would have, I'm sure) and get her to sleep and have some "instant" peace, but I just couldn't.  And it's not like she doesn't still need me to get to sleep.  She really has no self-soothing skills.  In fact Phase II of this whole thing will be to not have to lay down with her and sing 17 rounds of "Hush Little Baby" and recite Goodnight Moon six times.

The other strange thing is that although I have shared the "news" with family and friends, it's nothing I'm particularly proud of.  I am glad it is over, but in my heart, I hear "This too, shall pass."  A favorite mantra of mine for sure, but still, something has passed.  Right behind my sigh of relief, is a pang of loss.

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