Did it work?

By Golly I think it did. The hypnotism that is. I’ll admit that I smoked a cigarette on the way home from my session because I wanted to see if I was broken. But since then I’ve not smoked and have had much less cravings than usual when I’ve tried to quit.
I’d actually wondered if I could be hypnotized. Supposedly hypnotism is a deeper state than the alpha brain-wave that one achieves during meditation, although it didn’t feel that way to me at all. I have some experience with meditation and it felt like I was at the alpha brainwave with someone speaking to me. I remember everything that was said and feel like I could have sat up and opened my eyes at any moment. There is no way that someone in that state could be talked into doing something that they didn’t want to do… (sorry Hollywood!)
Of course there is the argument that it’s all in my head. That I believe that it worked, or that because I spent the money on it I want to believe that it worked, but the thing is… I didn’t believe it was going to work. I was totally skeptical. I mean, I believe that people can be hypnotized; I just didn’t think that I was one of those people. And now that you know what the process feels like, let me tell you what it feels like now.
It feels like I’ve completely forgotten that I smoke. Like I keep thinking that there is something that I should be going to do, but I can’t remember what it is and then I think, “oh that’s right… I don’t smoke anymore” and I move on. Now, if you were sitting on my porch right now smoking a cigarette, I’d stop typing this immediately and go out and bum one from you, if I could remember long enough that was my intention.
I still have the craving. I still want to eat. I still have bouts of irritability. But for the most part I think I’m done with it. I might have to go again next month to stop eating… but I really feel like I’ll be smoke free.

 

Bock Bock BACOCK!

Most of you know, although some of you don’t, that after quitting smoking for 2 and a half months I started again. I keep procrastinating quitting, but each time I look at the kids, I know I have to. I started taking Yoga last week, hoping that when I do quit it will help me stay focused on healthy habits and keep some of the weight off. I’ve also started Zumba which is a dance step type aerobics, in an effort to get the hell off of the sofa. Now if I could just stop eating.
I was going take the new anti-smoking drug, Chantix but keep reading about possible side effects. I could handle a little bit of nausea but it’s the psychotic episode side effect that has me leery. I’m not prone to depression, (except during pregnancy) so I’m not a likely candidate for that type of side effect, but it’s not something that I really want to risk. Especially with small children in the house.

So, that being said, on Saturday I have an appointment to get hypnotized. It actually costs less than a three month supply of Chantix and truly any amount of money to quit smoking is a savings when you consider the cost of smoking. Two sessions of hypnotism cost roughly about the same as 6 cartons of cigarettes. A bargain!
The hypnotist has a 92% success rate and I’m hoping like hell I’m in that percentage. I believe in hypnotism, I’ve never even once considered that it might be the “devil’s work” and I have no idea why I never thought of it before. Truthfully, I’ve thought about doing past life regression, but never smoking cessation, even though I have friends that have successfully quit long term using the method. I guess I thought it would cost a full year’s salary or something. I really hope that it works for me and I’m looking forward to it. Even if I occasionally cluck like a chicken.

Dear Tristan - 20 Months

Dear Tristan,

This month you are starting to get a grasp on how to win friends and influence people and it goes like this, "hi." You say it to everyone you see and you aren't going to be discriminate about it either. You are so certain those words will bend someone to your will that sometimes when I start to raise my voice to your brother you intervene, leaning in towards me, softly saying "Hi." over and over again. Certainly that will make everyone happy again! Some nights when we put you to bed, I hear you in your crib, saying, "hi" in between fits of screaming. "This screamings not working for me right now... maybe a little bit of cuteness will do the trick".

Little man, you are getting chatty. You constantly amaze us with your ability to remember even the vaguest words. By the time you are two, I expect you'll be speaking in entire paragraphs. Today, when I came home from work, you grabbed my necklace and said, "prettt-tteee" and proceded to put it into your mouth. And no, we're not sick of hearing, " I want dat!" over and over again.

You are still on hunger strike. You've no problem eating a granola bar or anything else with sugar in it, but sneak a vegtable into your mouth and you act like you've been burned, spitting it out and making a ICK noise while you look at us with utter shock and disapproval. How could we betray you so?! I keep putting fruits and veggies on the plate anyway because I know that one day you will shock us all and develop a love for vegetables. In the meantime, each night after dinner I scrape your plate wishing there was some way I could send those scraps to the children around the world that would think the taste of a Mandrin Orange to be a little piece of heaven. Always remember your good fortune.

You've learned to tattle. Now it's hard to tell if your brother really is beating on your or not, because sometimes he'll just brush past you and you'll crouch down and starting crying, "MA-MA!MA-MA!" over and over again like he just kicked you in the head. Or more likely than that, you'll come running, crying and yelling, "MINE! I WANT DAT! MINE!" pointing to the toy that your brother has taken from you. Because you both have this disease that your Dad calls, "You have that I want it". Apparently it's a phenomana that never goes away either. If you're twenty and reading this and don't believe me, pick up some random piece of plastic or some other oddity. Something that looks interesting but should probably be in the trash. Have a conversation with someone while you fiddle with this plastic. Gaze at it with interest while you talk. I bet within the first 30 seconds they say, "What is that?" and in the next five minutes they ask to see it. You have that, I want it.

As much as you and your brother fight though, the two of you LOVE each other. You can't wait to pick him up at preschool and in the mornings if he sleeps in, you stand at the bottom of the stairs, yelling, "CAA_NNAA!" You run around in circles when he first comes downstairs in the morning. You love to wake brother up in the morning also, climbing into his bed and raining kisses all over his face while you whisper over and over, "hi". This morning when you woke him up this way, you laid you head down on his stomach as sort of a hug. He was half asleep and said, "Thank you for the kisses, Tristan. I love you too" And he actually meant it.

I love you,

Mama

Here I am!

I haven’t had much posting time, trying to work and keep up with the kids seems to take up most of the time that I do have. I’ve got a to-do list a mile long and it seems like everyday something else is added. I’ve succumbed to doing things that I wouldn’t normally do, like take both of the kids to the grocery store with me, so that I can manage the time that I do have. Right now, little brother is sleeping and big brother is trashing his own room, (his daily quiet time routine)… but trashing it quietly. I have two loads of laundry to fold, a kitchen to clean and 300 pages of East of Eden to finish reading for book club next week. There are in addition to that 30 other things I could be doing, but today I’m taking a minute to post because I miss writing.

Because when I don’t post to the blog, it makes me feel exactly like I’m putting off calling that far away friend, which just adds another day to the distance.

Dear Connor - 3 Years, 6 Months

Dear Connor,
They say that the age of 3 is harder than the age of 2, but it doesn’t seem that way to me. I think the age of 3 is more frustrating than the age of 2, but at least you are a little more lucid and can be reasoned with.

Except when caterpillars are involved. A couple of days ago, we discovered caterpillars in the back yard. Well, in the yard, on the deck, on the porch and last night in the upstairs bathroom. I picked up one for you to hold and in no time at all, you were attached. Shortly after this, I decided that you were occupied enough for me to go to into the house for a moment, but I left the back door open so I could still hear you on the porch. A minute later I heard a blood curdling scream followed by hysterical crying and ran to the porch to fight the wild jackals that must have snuck onto the porch causing you to scream this way. Instead I found you pointing to the caterpillar that had fallen from your hand to the porch floor, as you sobbed, “MOMMY IT’S GETTING AAAWWWWAAYYY!” I was a little bit confused by this drama, as the caterpillar was about a foot away and moving at a rapid rate of 4 feet an hour, but we picked him up and put him back into the cup that you were carrying around.

This drama happened again and again, each time the caterpillar attempted to climb up the side of his container. You snuck it into the house behind me when I went in to make you a drink. I saw the empty cup in your hand and asked where your caterpillar was. “He’s climbing now.” You said. “Where?” I asked, cringing. You pointed to the kitchen table where the caterpillar was just trucking along the side.
Soon you were begging to be able to keep it in your room and sleep with it. We negotiated hard on this one and ended up making a house from an old aquarium that no longer holds water. After additions of rocks, dirt, moss and sticks I was able to talk you into putting your caterpillar into his new home.

Yesterday, Daddy was outside with you as you collected every caterpillar that you could find. The terrarium that we built now has 21 caterpillars that you feed and mist daily. You tell them goodnight and want to go and visit them first thing in the morning. It’s all so sweet that if I thought I could handle cleaning a cage once a week, I’d get you a hamster or another equally amusing rodent. But it would have to sleep in your room… and those things are nocturnal, you know.

You’ve been going to swim lessons for over a month now and you’re doing great! Daddy takes you to your lessons so I haven’t actually seen you in lesson mode yet, but the reports are that you can hold your breath under water and swim 10 feet. The first time I heard this, I’m not sure if I was more proud that you could do it or relieved that you had learned a skill that could one day save your life. Daddy says that you are an independent swimmer, wary but not afraid of the water. You love the waterslide and the other two boys in your class. Now, if I could just get you to stop asking me every second of the day, “Are swimming lessons tonight?”
I love you,
Mommy

Dear Tristan - 19 Months

Dear Tristan,

Last Sunday, you had your first major injury. I was in your brother’s room looking for pajamas while you and your brother were both running, naked and wild in Mommy and Daddy’s room. Your brother came running into his room, (where I was on the pj search) with a ceramic plate he had removed from the bottom drawer of the sideboard that’s in our room. I told him he wasn’t supposed to be in THAT drawer and fearing immediate time out, he went running off down the hallway, naked, back to Mommy’s room. Following him, I was halfway down the hallway when I heard you scream. I knew before I saw you what had happened. Your brother accidentally smashed your fingers in the drawer in his haste to put the dish back.

It scraped off the top layer of skin and had some bruising, but you pulled your hand out before major damage could be done. And oh how you cried.
After a few minutes of sitting in my lap sobbing, your brother went into hysterics, because he was afraid. At first, he was afraid that he was going to get into trouble, but quickly it was replaced by his fear that you were really hurt, because as he said, “I can’t get Tristan to stop crying!” You were both hysterical. So much so that I had to call in the reinforcement, who was downstairs cooking dinner.
I’ve never seen you really get hurt and although I knew that the injury was minor comparatively speaking, it still freaked me out a little bit. I think it’s true that the second child is tougher than the first, just because of the sheer stamina it takes to keep up with an older sibling.
Usually when you are crying, it’s because a toy was taken away from you or you think I don’t understand that it’s the word, “candy” that you are saying yelling while pointing to the pantry at 8 o’clock in the morning.
You get so frustrated that you can’t verbally communicate with us. Generally you assume that we don’t understand you and repeat the word over and over hoping that we’ll get it. This doesn’t work out so well for you, because after I’ve heard, iwannacookie, fifteen times in a row, I’m definitely not giving up a cookie.
You are slowly starting to try new foods. Very. Very slowly. The other day, you accidentally put a bite of green bean casserole into your mouth and ended up eating all that was on your plate. And the night after that, I think I might have seen you eat a carrot, although you may have thought you were about to ingest a cheese doodle. You’ve discovered peanut butter but still aren’t a fan of milk. If there is something on your plate that you don’t want to eat, you subtlety let us know by holding it out at arms length, waiting until we are looking and then purposefully dropping it onto the floor.

You like dropping things on the floor. You are like a seagull, dropping clams high from the air onto the rocks to retrieve the treasure inside. The treasure in this case, however, are the inner workings of whatever thing you’ve just sacrificed. We had to tape up the back of the remote control because you couldn’t get enough of tossing it on the tile, popping off the back, so that you could play with the AA batteries inside of it. Give you a new toy and the first thing you’ll do after inspecting it thoroughly and tasting every inch is to drop it on the tile.

You are becoming quiet the social butterfly, saying “Hi” to everyone… your family, people at the grocery store… even Papaw and Nana’s cats. When you say “Hi”, your sure to beam and await a response. How could anyone not smile at your cuteness?! I’m not sure if it’s because I’m your mother, but some days you are cuter than a wagon full of baby ducks being pulled by a puppy.

Love,

Mama

 

What a Bad Guy Really Is

Connor and I are watching the end of the Jungle Book before he goes to bed. Shere Khan is on screen slinking through the jungle. “That tiger is a bad guy “, I whisper to Connor. A few minutes later, Connor replies, his eyes glued to the tiger on screen, “Mommy, does he not share?”

 

Dear Connor - 3 Years, 5 Months

Dear Connor,

I’m late in writing your entry this month because we’ve had a lot going on. You wouldn’t think that writing a blog entry has any bearing at all in the realm of parenting guilt, but a Mother’s guilt runs almost as deep as her love. You’ve been pretty grumpy the last month, a fault of mine because I’ve been tending to other things, like working and recovering from each and every virus that you bring to me from preschool.
You’ve decided that you don’t want to go to school, each time arguing with me that you won’t put your shoes on and that you won’t eat your breakfast because you do not under any circumstances want to go to school. I make you go anyway, because we all have to do things in life that we don’t want to do and the sooner you learn that the easier your life will be. There’s something that I want you to know and it’s this… life isn’t fair. In fact, it’s far from fair but facing it head on and making the best of it makes things a whole lot easier.
Part of the reason that you are so grumpy is because you’ve decided that you absolutely will not nap and although the books all say you should have grown out of naps a year ago, you are a kid that still needs mid-day sleep. I’ve succumbed to allowing you to hang in your room for quiet time, which usually isn’t as quiet as it should be, but gives you us some much needed time to rest. Today I went in to check on you, because your brother’s marathon screaming fit involving his refusal to nap was surely making you a little restless and found you laying on your back next to your bed on the floor. You were wearing 7 shirts and two pair of pants and lay with your arms thrown up over your head, sound asleep. At first my heart stopped because you so hate the nap that I thought some tragedy had befallen you, but then you snorted and started snoring softly and I knew it was safe to move you to the bed. I think probably because you had on 7 shirts that it made moving a little more awkward, thus proving my theory that if you’d just freaking be still, you’d pass out and get some rest. I know that you don’t want to miss any of the excitement that happens when you are in your room for quiet time, thus your constant insistence that you have quiet time downstairs, but personally if I had the choice between watching someone mop the kitchen floor and reorganize the pantry or napping, well I’d take the nap every time. Of course, given the choice between a whole lot of things and a nap, I’d probably take the nap, but that’s just me.
You’ll notice that there aren’t any pictures in this entry, but like your brother’s entry there are things that we will never see in a picture.
A picture will never be able to remind me how soft your baby skin or how you can still fit neatly in my lap when you curl up with your head on my shoulder. It won’t remind me of the little boy smell that you are starting to develop. When I walk into your room, it smells like you... a combination of baby lotion, baby skin and old socks. I’ll never hear from a picture how you say softly to me, “I love you, Mommy” and while that’s something that I could record and listen to over and over again, the recording wouldn’t capture the look in your eyes. The one that says you really mean it. That I am of the suns that you revolve around and that you don’t love me less because I haven’t showered in two days or worn make up in five.
A camera could never capture the wide fascination your eyes hold when you see something exciting and new for the first time. How you look at me with amazement and without speaking say, “Are YOU seeing this too Mommy?” And I am, but only because I’m looking through you. Thank you for making sure I remember that everything is amazing, even when it’s something as simple as a bar of glycerin soap with a plastic goldfish embedded inside. My love for you runs deep.
Love,
Mommy

Dear Tristan - 18 Months

Dear Tristan,

There would be pictures of you in this entry, except you climbed up onto the desk, got the digital camera and took it into the kitchen where a few slams against the ceramic tile rendered it useless. But there are things that we can’t see from pictures.
A camera would never be able to capture the way you give kisses, coming in at full speed, pecking with your mouth at whatever is closest saying, “MUH!” each time. It wouldn’t capture that you can’t just give one kiss. Once you are in full motion there are several kisses all in a row. If you decide to climb down from my lap, you are giving kisses the whole way, gracing my wrist, knee and foot as you go.
A camera could never fully show how your baby hair glows golden when the sun streams through the windows of the living room and you sit quietly on the sofa watching Blue’s Clues. You have no idea how beautiful you are.
No one would ever see from a picture, how you run like there is a string pulling you forward by your belly, your arms flapping, a smile on your face, because it feels so good to move. I’ll never see from a picture how when someone else is holding you, you point to me and say, “MaMa!” in a definitive tone, like you are so proud of me.
A picture would never capture your vigorous knee-hugs. The ones where you come barreling across the kitchen throwing yourself onto my legs and if I’m not prepared for you, almost knocking me down. You are little, but getting hit in the back of the knees with 26lbs of hurling toddler is enough to make anyone wobble. Especially one, who is focused with intense concentration, on the pantry trying to determine what can be made for dinner that involves a can of Cream of Mushroom Soup, raisins and bottom of a bag of tortilla chips.
In the mornings you wake up precisely at 7:15. I pick you up, blankie and all and take you back to our bed, curling up around and pretending that you might actually go back to sleep if you see me close my eyes. You try to go back to sleep, because you know that’s what’s intended, but you got your Dad’s wake up gene instead of mine and once you are up, there’s no going back to sleep. I’ll crack one eye, because I have that unmistakable feeling that I’m being watched and find you gazing adoringly at me. It’s usually then that you decide to start unleashing kisses on my face, or exploring my nostrils with your index finger. What? Mommy doesn’t like that? How about the ear? No? Maybe the nostril again.
And that’s how I fully come awake each morning.
On rare occasions you do fall back asleep, snuggling into me with your sweet baby snore. These are the days that your brother wakes up ten minutes later yelling, “MOMMY! I NEED TO GO POTTY! RIGHT NOW!” Because why should he bother getting out of bed when he has a personal chauffer to carry him? I get up and take him to the potty and then pull him into bed with us. Sometimes you and he snuggle up together, tangled in a mess of blankets and the four hundred pillows we keep on the bed. It’s on these days that we lay there like a pile of puppies and I hope that warmth stays with me through the rest of my winters.

I love you,

MaMa!

Just Another Day in Paradise

I’d be posting some really funny pictures. Like the one of Connor today with 11 shirts on at once. He had so much bulk that he couldn’t take any of the shirts off without assistance. I’m not sure how he managed to get them all on. Or lovely pictures, like Tristan today, his blonde hair shining in the sunlight, while he explored the backyard. But last week Tristan got our camera and banged it into the ceramic tile. He managed to give it a few good whacks before I could get to him and now… it’s broken.
This is the point where usually, I would be like, DAMMIT! Now I HAVE to buy a Digital SLR! But since we are still recovering from the past year and I feel like we HAVE to have some sort of something to take pictures of the kids with, or before we know it we’ll have a year with no footage at all. So I guess, although it pains me, we might have to suck it up and have our camera repaired, which bums me out, because it’s a piece of crap anyway and definitely isn’t worth the $200.00 that it will take to fix it. And well, just buying a new one, isn’t much of an option.

Hunger Strike

I guess I just chalked up the fact that Connor will eat anything that you put in front of him, to our stellar parenting skills. I’m proud of it. You child may be able to play Mozart at 2 years old, but I bet he won’t eat, olives dipped in hummus or request hot sauce on her French fries. But now my bubble is burst.

Because as a general rule of thumb, if it’s not fried or filled with sugar, Tristan won’t eat it, unless it’s white. Fruits? Bananas, Apples. Cheese – Mozzarella, Saltine Crackers, or plain pasta. And so we’ve done the same thing with him that we did with Connor when he started to get picky. For the most part, if it’s what we are eating for dinner and you’ve eaten it previously with no complaining, you are eating it, or you will be hungry. But with Tristan… it’s not working.
Because Tristan will starve himself before he deigns to eat anything that’s not white. So you can imagine what a good mood he’s been in for the past three days, living on a diet of Bananas, Saltine Crackers and the noodles from Chicken Soup. Today, he wandered around the house crying and waddling over to the pantry, sobbing the word cookie over and over again. But I’m not giving in. Because this is where the parents get in trouble. In a desperate attempt to feed your child, something! Anything! To fill their little belly, you give them a cookie. I mean, it’s an oatmeal cookie after all. Well, oatmeal-chocolate chip. But when you are faced with such a tiny little soul, that you love with your heart and soul, screaming in hunger, you give in. And it begins.
I’m not sure if it makes me a good parent for standing my ground, or a bad parent for letting the baby be hungry. But it’s been a rough day with the kids and whether he eats cookies for dinner, or nothing at all because I’m holding my ground, it makes me feel like the worst parent in the world.

 

Timbeeeeeerrrrr

A tree fell from the back corner of our lot last week, snapping the swing set in half and missing the deck by about 2 feet. I wasn’t the slightest bit concerned that the tree could have hit and/or damaged the house. I had some sort of post traumatic – what could have happened, stress going on. If the kids would have been outside playing, they would have been by the swing set which is their usual haunt in the yard.
We borrowed a chain saw from my friend Amy and with the chain saw came the exceptional bonus of her husband Mike, who helped Jorma chop up the tree. They made short work of it, (easy for me to say, since I was in the house, minding children and cooking dinner), and the tree is all cleaned up. I guess there are some advantages to living in one of the neighborhoods where they chop down all of the trees in the subdivision.

Dear Connor - 3 Years, 4 Months

Dear Connor,

In your world it's always Halloween... but with less candy. Dress up is the most fun of all, second only to playing any game involving monsters, pirates or dragons. I've been a little concerned about the obsession with monsters and things that go bump in the night. Each morning you wake to tell us about the monsters that you saw or played with while you were sleeping.
At your pre-school parent teacher conference, your teacher even mentioned that you are quite obsessed with monsters. She said that she always tells you that there is no such thing as monsters, which is something that we also tell you. At some point along the way, your Dad and I decided that who cares if you are into monsters? What if you grow up to get your PhD in Roman Mythology? Who are we to decide what creatures you invent to play with?

And oh the dressing up. How many clothes can you put on at once? Well, that depends on how many clothes you have access to. In the picture below, you are wearing 7 shirts, a sweater vest, sweater, 5 pair of pants and 6 pair of socks. Oh, and those are pants on your head. You so love the pants on your head that the other day, Tristan toddled over to me with a pair of Diego underwear that he found in your dresser and insisted that I put it on his head... because that's what brother does.

You are maintaining the 3 year old stereotype by making sure that you talk back to Mommy or Daddy at least twice a day. You never know what to say, or how to express yourself so you end up pointing at us and yelling, "I'm going to lock you up in a high tower!" or some other such nonsense, which only proves, it's not actually what is said, but how it's said. Usually there is a time out involved with these infractions, although usually they've occurred because you are angry that you were put into time out for something else to begin with. It's still amusing to see 40 inches of red faced madness, pointing at me while yelling, "I'm going to smash you out of the house!"

You are taking more of an interest in other children. Some of them you like, some of them you don't, but you are proud to announce that this or that child is your best friend. You don't like that child because she always takes toys from your or this child because he whispers when he talks. It's amazing to watch the playgroup politics unfold as you learn to make up games and engage other children in activity running together like a pack of dogs at the park. It's so refreshing for me to watch you play without unfolding drama. The hitting and crying is replaced by, sharing and smiling and when you approach a new child to play, the expression on your face is one of expectation and hope. You look so fragile as you wait for some sign or signal that it's ok to join in play. It's fascinating to watch the buds of social evolution begin to emerge but I want you to know that I'll always be your friend. Even when you are embarrassed to be seen with me in public.
Love,
Mommy

Free is Me

Dude, I’m totally addicted to Freecycle.org I was on it a while back, but didn’t have it set up the way I do now so I never checked it. It’s through a Yahoo Group, so it works by email. I have it so that it forwards to a folder, so I can check it in real time, instead of waiting for it to all come to me in digest form, which is one of the Yahoo Group options. Now I don’t even have to look at it unless I want to. And I want to.
I can’t stop looking at the stuff that people are giving away/receiving. I haven’t given anything away or received anything from anyone, yet, it’s just fun to watch the flow of junk circulating on the group. I mean, the clothes, the shoes, the furniture and strollers. I admit, there are some things that I’m snobbish about and would prefer to purchase new than use a hand-me-down, but bookcases aren’t one of those things. Now if someone will just give one away.

Such a great idea. Want to get rid of it? Post it on Freecycle and someone will come over and take it away. You don’t even have to see them if you leave it on the porch. If having someone come to your house that you don’t know, or going to someone else’s house that you don’t know skeeves you out a little, (and it’s prudent to be cautious) you can always meet in a grocery store parking lot or something. But giving stuff to people that can use it, keeps more crap out of the landfill, provides receivers with things to love and hooks the giver up with a little bit of good karma. I love it.

Computer Diagram

Computer Diagram
Originally uploaded by Dewchild

Old School Baby!

Old Dell Ad

Old Dell Ad
Originally uploaded by Dewchild

Raise your hand if you remember when this was top of the line.

Dear Tristan - 17 Months

Dear Tristan,
I’ve said this before and I’m saying it again. One day you are going to turn around and knock the crap out of your brother… and I’m going to pretend like I didn’t even see it. I can see how rivalry forms. I see the seeds in your brother who doesn’t understand why you are allowed to throw food on the floor and he is not. Why you do not get put into time out for snatching that sucker out of his hands or for trying to climb the gate. To him it looks like he has rules to follow, but you do not.

It’s getting close to the time for you to have rules to follow. You still don’t quite understand the whole “No” thing. You know that it means you aren’t supposed to do whatever it is that you are doing, but don’t remember the next day, (or next hour) not to do it again. Your impulse control is pretty good for one so small and it’s starting to get a little easier with the both of you.
Although I feel like I must mention that no matter how much talking to, or distraction we give you, trying to climb into the dishwasher… Never. Gets. Old. It doesn’t matter what you are doing, you will stop and toddle over to investigate. Oh the wonder! Oh, all of the different smells! I’ve taken to loading or unloading when you are strapped into your highchair, so you simply sit and eat, gazing at the open dishwasher like it’s an episode of Blue’s Clues. Also, knocking the keyboard and mouse off of the desk tray. As soon as your Dad or I leave the computer, you come barreling in at full speed, because you know that the keyboard has returned to it’s proper location and you will at all costs put a stop to THAT.

And oh the running around the house. There is nothing cuter that you fast-walking while making little side to side figure 8 motions with your head, except maybe just you running in general, which looks like you are doing the twist while jogging. You love to run. In fact, you seldom walk to get from place to place. Walking is reserved for areas that are too close for even a short sprint.
Last week, I turned you and Connor loose in the backyard and then sat out on the deck and read my book while you played, only having to look up for minor fussing or to reiterate that we do NOT hit with sticks. It was the first time in three years I’ve been able to do that and that little bit of quiet time was enough to fill me up for the rest of the day.

You’ve moved to the table for dinner. This week, I tossed aside your high chair try and moved you to the table with a paper plate. It took once or twice for you to determine if you threw the plate on the floor you were finished with your food, but once you decided it was much more fun to eat than toss the plate, you were good to go.
I’ve also packed up your bottles, determined to put you to bed with a sippy at night instead and well, you are pretty pissed about it. The past few times we’ve put you down, we hand you the sippy and you yell NO! and then throw it. You yell in rage, for about 60 seconds and then settle down to go to sleep. And that is how we weaned you from the bottle.

You will slide down the slides at the park that the big kids go down. You will climb anything that the big kids climb. It has never even occurred to you that you can’t do this or that. To quote a Star Wars character, (this is at LEAST 50 geek points) “Do or do not. There is no try” I love that, because I know, as long as you believe in you, like we do, you’ll be just fine.
Love,
Mommy

Free Love

Has everyone seen this site? The one where you can trade your books for free? Why am I just finding out about this. And further. Why in the hell didn’t I think of it? I just posted several books that we Jorma elected to give away. They were snatched right up. As soon as I establish points I will be able to mooch books for us, something that I’m really excited about, since we have five billion books upstairs, (yes that’s just an exaggeration, it’s really only a million) that we’ve read and won’t read again.

Now if someone would just create a site for free bookshelves, we’re good to go.

 

Love, Dr. Strange Norrell

One of the good things about being broke for the past year is that with no money to spend on the things that could be fun to do I was able to catch up on my reading list. I have a fairly lengthy waiting list that sits next to the bed, mixed with magazines that must be flipped through in between novels. I just checked Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell off of the list. It’s not just a book, it’s a Book with a capital B to the O-O-K. It took me about 400 pages to really get interested in it and the only reason that I stuck with it that long was because, well, I wasn’t reading anything else and the stomach flu knocked me so hard on my ass that, it seemed too much effort to walk all the way down the hallway to choose something else of interest.
It’s 700-something pages and on the back cover, reviews from legitimate sources claim it’s in the genre of the Hobbit and the next great work of fantasy literature. I’m not sure if they were reading the same book that I was reading. I mean, it was good, but far from brilliant and comparing it to Tolkien. Well, that’s just plain silly. One of the things that I did really love and also hate about the book were the massive amount of foot notes, some spanning 3 pages.¹

I loved the Fairy lore too, although to me the book was more about the struggle of ego than magicians and fairies. If you read it, drop me a line, I’d love to know what you thought. ²

 

1.        I both love and hate foot notes in general. Love - because I constantly an punctuating my thinking patterns with other side thoughts before coming back full circle again, so it sort of reflects the way that I think, but hate, because I feel obligated to read a footnote immediately, which disrupts the rhythm of my reading and pisses me off.

2.        Jorma’s read it too and thought it was just too damned, “English”

Random Parenting Tip #47

Never let them see you put a Q-Tip in your ear. (or pick your nose)

Sunlight in My Universe

Recently we’ve made a change in the Case de Dewchild. We removed the baby gate from the hallway.
If you’ve spent any amount of time in our house you know which gate. Yes, THAT gate. The one that you couldn’t figure out how to work until Connor came up and showed you. The gate that always squeaks and wobbles like it’s going to fall right off of the wall. The gate that catches your purse as you walk by, the gate that grabs your jacket. The one that Jorma has racked himself self on twice of that I know for sure and the same gate that left a black bruise the size of a quarter on his thigh. Because this is the hell we endure to have a kid free room, the office.
Now beating the hell out of us was one thing, but the day that Tristan waddled over with a knot precisely the size of a nickel on his head, precisely in the place where the catch on the gate door hit him, we were done. That son of a bitch was coming down.
Now just so you know why we’ve kept that gate up… the hallway is around 48” wide. Try finding a baby gate for less than $100.00 that will fit that. There are some that go to 48” but it has to be exactly 48” and well, ours is actually 48.25”. So that’s why we had the crappy gate to begin with. We I didn’t want to spend a bunch of money that we didn’t have.
We took the gate down, which means we had to clean up the office and make it a little more child friendly since we blocked off the stairs only and the kids have run of the rest of the house. In order to clean up the desk in the office, we first had to find somewhere for all of that crap to live. So I cleaned out the pie safe that holds well, other junk that was living in there because it didn’t have anywhere to live. So, we moved said junk upstairs, or into the downstairs coat closet (which also had to be cleaned out) desk junk to pie safe, added some outlet covers and child locked the CPU door on the desk. We had to pass word protect the system, to keep the kids from moving folders on the desktop to the trash or forwarding random emails to people, but other than three days or re-organizing it wasn’t much work.
Just taking the gate down, unlocked some sort of crazy chi flow through the house and now it feels more like a house. The office is actually cleaner now than it ever was when it was kid free because we can’t have crap laying all of the desk. I love being able to walk from the office to the kitchen hands free. It has improved everyone’s quality of life.

Everyone has those things. The things that bug the crap out of you, those little things that you mean to get fixed or change or whatever needs to be done but never do. So, my challenge to you is, do that one little thing that’s been driving you nuts. Cut that hangnail, replace that paper towel holder. If you can’t remember what that thing is, next time you are reminded, vow then and there to do something about it. Change your world.

Giving Up the Most

Today my Moms Club had their annual Valentine’s party. Valentine’s Day is a difficult holiday for me, basically because I think it’s a load of crap. Yes, I know the history of the holiday and still firmly believe it’s a holiday that’s been over hyped by the greeting card companies to sell some dead trees greeting cards. I mean, St. Valentine? I’m not even Catholic.
It’s a fun holiday for the kids, because it breaks of the dry spell of no-candy between Christmas and Easter. Sure, the cards are important too, but truly it wasn’t the Dora Valentine’s Day card that made Connor’s eye’s glaze over with love, as much as it was the heart shaped sucker stuck to the front with Scotch tape.
The party was held at a local sweet shop that makes their own confections. The kids got to dip marshmallows in chocolate and run around peering at the display cases. It smelled like heaven. There were chocolates in hands reach that could just be plucked off of the table for purchase. It sounds like the only thing that could complete this party is a bunch of live bunnies and bluebirds, but while it sounds like a good time. For me. It was just a little slice of hell.
I had both of the boys with me. I had critically arranged napping and snack schedules to promote the best mood and best behavior at this event. You don’t want my boys running around anywhere with low blood sugar. Ohno. My intentions while good, did nothing to prevent the proverbial road to hell from being paved. Tristan weights 26 lbs and was held almost the entire time we were at the party. Thank God, I don’t work the mouse with my left arm or I wouldn’t be able to post this entry as it’s still burning from over an hour of holding 26 lbs of straining, wiggling baby yearning to be free. He wanted down so badly, because he could see that Connor was touching EVERYTHING and he wanted some of THAT action.
“Look at that! Connor just made Mommy purchase a $2.00 chocolate baseball glove by pulling it off the counter and (lovingly) rubbing it with his fingers! I’m in!”
So, I would let Tristan down, he would run one way, Connor would run the other and I’d have to make a split second choice of which one to follow based on individual calculations including, proximity to other Moms, (Moms that I though might actually stop a child from climbing on top of a display case), the door to the parking lot and the tables filled with bowls (unattended) of liquid chocolate for dipping. There was only one other person there that has two children close to my kids age and when I looked up to see her, she was gone. She was smart.
As soon as I finally wrangled my two little ones and got them strapped into the car, Connor announced that he had to go potty, oh wait, no he didn’t anymore, but a clean diaper might be nice. I was ready to cry.
And this is what I determined from this experience.
I’m done.
Done with anything that involves the following:
- My two children unrestrained in a public place
- Any public place where there is anything below 3 feet that can be broken, eaten or otherwise forced for me to purchase due to one of the former actions

Not forever, just until this stage is a little more manageable. Now, this doesn’t cramp my lifestyle much since we don’t do a whole lot of eating in restaurants, going to movies or well, anything else, but at least I’ve seen the truth. I can’t be two places at once. And there’s no point in sacrificing my sanity trying.
Ya know, sometimes giving up, feels pretty damn good.

Mom Doesn't Get Sick Days

It’s the fifth day of Jorma’s new job and I’ve intended to write even before this, but then… the stomach flu came to town. On Friday I was reviewing my shopping list online and Connor came into the office. “I’m burning up”, he said. I put my head on his forehead which felt fine. I assured him that he wasn’t burning up, which is what we call fevers around here, since if Connor gets one, you can be guaranteed that it’s at least 103.something. “I AM BURNING UP!”, Mommy he said, emphatically, jumping up and down. I put my lips on his forehead and was about to remark that he was just fine when he started dry heaving. I grabbed the trash can, (the mesh trash can) next to me, just in time for him to throw up into it ¹.
You might remember how awful it is to vomit, and shudder, but our kids... it doesn’t even phase them. After throwing up, Connor looked up and me and yelled to be sure I heard him, “DID I JUST THROW UP, MOMMY?!” I told him yes to which he responded, “oh.” and then launched into an entire series of questions pertaining to vomit, how and why it works and whether or not we should reach into the trash can to touch it.

About 20 minutes later he was back to harassing his brother and asking if he could have “crackers with cheese on top and maybe a little bit of juice”. Later that night there was just a mild fever, not much appetite but other than that, it seemed everything was groovy. The kids were fine.
Then at 11am on Sunday I started feeling sick. And it was on. It takes a lot for a virus to take me down completely, but I have to say. It was horrible. Nothing traumatizes me like the stomach flu. Nothing makes me feel as useless or weak, “Honey, can you hand me the remote? Yes, I know it’s only three feet away, I just. can’t. move.” Honest to God, I spent 15 minutes laying in bed, pondering whether or not it was worth getting up to get the remote control, only to be relieved when Jorma offered it to me from 4 feet away.
Monday should have been better, but I still felt horrible and Jorma had to work². His day started with him smelling vomit up the hallway and going into Tristan's room (at 6:30am) to discover that when he was yelling at 5:30am in the morning, it wasn't his daily, "HEY, I'M UP! COME AND GET ME!" (to which we ignore and he goes back to sleep until 7:30 each day) it was in fact, that he had contracted the stomach flu, vomited in his crib, cried for a few minutes and then gone back to sleep. But apart from not eating, Tristan was in high spirits all day too.
Today I haven’t been in bed since this morning and I couldn’t get both of the kids to nap at the same time like yesterday, when the Gods smiled down upon me and both children slept, from 1:15 until 4:15. I took a three hour nap. I still feel like hell, but not like I'm dying any more so I'll take it.
If you want to offer a service that no one else has thought of yet, here’s my freebie idea for you, be the one that comes over to maintain children and house when stay at home Mom (or Dad) gets the flu. I don’t know where you could start your going rate, but I’ll tell you that as broke as we are, I probably would have paid around $75.00 an hour to anyone that would have let me sleep for an entire day on Monday. Although the check may have bounced.

¹ I’m quite certain Martha Stewart has never though to mention to anyone, “If you live in a house with small children who go to preschool and may become sick often, it is often wise to only put trashcans that can hold liquid matter into any room that a child could possibly throw up in. It saves the carpet”

² Jorma nursed me for most of the day on Sunday but on Monday Jorma was only one day 4 of his new job and after all of the hell we’ve been through over the past year, neither of us wanted to risk him missing a day so early in, even if his wife was dying a slow and painful death from the stomach flu.

Dear Connor - 3 Years, 3 Months

Dear Long Leg-ged Little One,
What do you think you are doing getting so tall all of a sudden? Those jeans fit just fine a couple of months ago and now your ankles are starting to show. I don’t really notice this sudden burst in height, unless you are stretched out being held by Daddy and I can see the entire length of you. The length that used to drape over one arm, the length that didn’t come past my belly button when you were riding in your front pack.

And now you are starting to look more like a little boy than a toddler, or a pre-schooler even. Sometimes you throw over a look that makes me think it’s what you are going to look like in high school. I can see it already, hiding behind the pirate ships and the stuffed animals, a fleeting glimpse of the adolescent you will become.
You are starting to enjoy your brother. Some mornings, I let him go into your room to wake you up. He climbs up onto the bed, over to you and opens his mouth for a big sloppy kiss. If that doesn’t work, he’ll attempt to tickle you, saying, “dicky-dicky” which is his word for tickle. You don’t appreciate it one bit, but even through you are pushing him away, saying, “STOP IT!” over and over, you are laughing while you do it.

This has been a difficult year for you. Right about the time that you discovered that the baby brother just might be staying for good, Daddy got laid off and was home full time. At first we enjoyed the time immensely, going to the zoo and taking beach trips. Things that we weren’t able to do before because Daddy had to work all of the time. As Spring approached though, things started to get stressful and I’m sure you felt it. I went back to work full time for a couple of weeks and was back home only to find another 3 month contract position a month later and further disrupt your schedule. Me working, was difficult for everyone, including me, although in retrospect, it would have been extremely enjoyable had I known that everything would be alright in the end.
This has been a big year for change for you and for us. We’ve cut you a break with your behavior, assuming that you must be just as stressed as everyone else and tried to give you the benefit of the doubt as often as we could. Because your schedule was changing and something was going on in the house that you didn’t quite understand, we tried to cut you a break.

Now that Daddy is working again, I’m trying my best to get you back on a schedule. We removed the gate in the hallway, because you could open the gate anyway, there wasn’t much point in keeping it up anymore. You are able to open almost all of our child proof locks and knobs, which means, no room is safe. Luckily, you are starting to understand cause and effect and for the most part do a good job staying out of the places you are banned from, lest you end up in the time out chair.
You’ve honed your obsession with monsters, ghosts and spooky things, (spooky fangs). First thing in the morning there is a five minute dialog where you explain about the monsters and ghosts that were in your room and what you talked about with them during the night. And oh the love of pirates! There must be something deep within little boy DNA that causes you to automatically gravitate towards swords and fighting. Give you a sword, (and someone to whack with it) and you are a happy boy. Sadly, that person often ends up being the brother, or Mommy’s bottom which results in the sword going to live on top of the fridge. At any given time there is a collection on top of the fridge or entertainment center of swords, pirate hooks or hammers that have been taken away for hitting someone or something with it.

I’m so glad that the past year is behind us and I’m relieved that you weathered it as well as you did. You probably won’t even remember this time of your life, although if you do it will probably consist of swords, monsters and a whole lot of boxed mac and cheese.
I love you,
Mommy

Happy Days Are Here Again

Guess what?
JORMA GOT A JOB TODAY!!!!!
Was that really loud when you read it? Because that's the way I'm saying it. And not just a job... a GREAT job!

Dear Tristan - 16 Months

Dear Tristan,
In your old age, if you should ever wonder what "sweetness and light" look like, please refer to your baby pictures. You are such a happy kid. You are content to be held, but only for a moment, because there are outlets that must be investigated and gates to be checked. You and your brother are the reason child proofing was invented. We have the house locked down. We have a gate blocking the office, (to keep you guys from pulling all of the books off of the shelves and pressing the big shiny button on the computer... the one that kills the power and turns it off) and the stairs. The cabinets are locked down, the trash can is hidden and the toilet remains behind closed doors, but still you manage to break into the bathroom, grab my hair brush and stir the toilet with it. Ain't we got fun?


I'm a member of a local stay at home Moms club, (Administrative VP actually - yay mommy) and I frequently attend kid friendly events. We have play dates and park dates and lots of fun stuff, but you rarely get to go. The other day we had a morning event at someones house and for some reason, I found myself wondering why I didn't just take you and your brother both.
You see, usually just your brother goes and you stay home with Daddy. You brother really loves playing with the other kids but, you are are still at the age where other children are more of something in your way to a toy than something to play with. You probably have just as much fun roaming the playroom at home by yourself, free to play with whatever you like without it being taken away. So, long story short, I decided to take you both.

We weren't there 15 minutes before I knew exactly why I don't take you both to these events... I can't be two places at once. I have to keep a close eye on you because you love to climb stairs. You're also brave enough to put almost anything in the mouth, although you are getting better about it, I can't help being paranoid when I'm at someone else's house. At our house when you have something in your mouth, it's most likely food. It might be a corner of a 2 week old pop tart that fell underneath the sofa, which I do not approve of you eating, but at least I know you aren't about to swallow an earring or a high heeled Barbie shoe.
Your brother also still needs some attention when he's in public. He has to be reminded of things like, we do not throw toy baby strollers and that walking up to another child, yanking the toy they have and walking off is not acceptable behavior. So the entire time, I kept having to choose between the lesser of evils. I was miserable and I must have said your name in that "warning" tone 100 times. But you weren't the slightest bit interested in what Mommy had to say. Not when you had a barette in your mouth.

You are trying to turn into a picky eater, which is shocking because for a long time you would eat anything. Now you've decided that you will throw all of the food from your high chair tray onto the floor, continuously until something is put onto your tray that you would prefer to eat. This morning I gave you broccoli casserole and half a banana for breakfast, (what kid doesn't like THAT for breakfast?!) You took a bite and then threw the rest on the floor.
You kept yelling, "AAAAHHHHH!!!" while looking at your brother, who was eating the pop tart he somehow managed to talk me into giving him for breakfast. I figured it wasn't really fair that he was eating pop tart and you weren't, (even though I promise my broccoli casserole IS better), so I gave you a pop tart, which you happily began chomping on. You enjoyed it so, that you didn't even notice that your milk had been spiked with Flax Seed Oil.

Every time you snuggle up to me, it makes me think I could have 10 babies if it would mean that I could keep the feeling I get when you are sweet, sleepy and warm in my arms just a little bit longer. This is the last stage of baby and it's so hard not to wish it away and look forward to the days of future that will be diaper free. The days that you can walk up and down stairs without me hovering behind you waiting to correct even the slightest misstep. But when those days are here, these days will be gone... and I'll miss them.
I love you,
Mommy

The Truth About Time-Out

What he wanted to say: YOU WERE IN TIME OUT… FOR BEING AN ASSHOLE

What he said: You were in time out, for holding your brother down and for having the nail clippers. You are not allowed to have the nail clippers. You are not allowed to hold your brother down. You are NEVER allowed to be near your brother with the nail clippers.

I'm a Quitter... Again

My favorite cigarette isn’t the first one of the day with my cup of coffee. It’s the second one of the day, (also with my cup of coffee). It’s the get it together smoke. The one where the kids are occupied, everyone’s had breakfast and I’m deciding how I’m going to put the day together. I’m planning. I’m relaxing. I’m gathering my strength to start getting everyone dressed, picking up the litter of toys throughout the kitchen and to explain to my oldest child that he can not teach his brother how to climb the drawers like a ladder to get onto the kitchen counter. I’m preparing for war.
This is the cigarette that I miss the most. I miss it, because as of January 2^nd, I became a non-smoker, again. (Except for the pack that I found by accident in the van, which had 4 who knows how old smokes in it, which I smoked staleness and all). With the exception of those I’ve been without. It’s been said, that kicking a cigarette addiction is akin to kicking a heroin habit. Granted, you don’t die from the nicotine withdrawal, like you can from a smack addiction, but I’d also like to point out that you can’t buy smack at the grocery store. Or at least the ones in our neighborhood.
I’ve quit with both of the pregnancies, but always managed to start back shortly after. It seems harder this time and I’m not sure why. I’m so wrapped up with nicotine as a reward system. I get the kitchen cleaned up, throw in a load of laundry and go have a smoke. The kids go to bed for the night and I go sit outside and have a smoke. I guess also, it’s one of the few times daily that I’m actually alone. It’s my little five minute breaks from the kids several times a day. It relaxes me.
I decided to quit this time, because it’s just time. I’d had my fun, I’ve been smoking for years and it’s time to start preparing for the future. Each time Connor gets a cold, I hope and pray I don’t get it because I don’t want it to move into my chest. Each time that I went outside in the freezing cold to smoke and each time I had to run to the store for a pack of smokes it reminded me. But mostly each time I looked at the kids, I wanted to quit. I wanted to be around for them.
I’m trying to avoid the 15 lb weight gain that comes with smoking. It’s hard to do since I feel like I’m hungry all of the time and I just can’t quit munching. One step at a time…

 

Weasel Seashells by the Seashore

Connor is wriggling around in my lap and I say to him. My goodness! It’s like holding a weasel!
He looks at me quizzically.
“Do you know what a weasel is?”  I ask him.
“No”, he says.
“It’s like a ferret”, I say.
“Do you know what a ferret is?” I ask.
“Yes”, he says, smugly. But he says it like a 15 year old girl… everything but the eye roll.
“What’s a ferret?”, I ask.
“It’s like a weasel.”

 

Top 10 Baby Names of 2007

The list is out.

Connor is # 14.

Tristan is # 52.

 

Strangely, Jorma isn’t listed at all. (Neither is Janice on the girls list though…)

If I'm on the Internet Seeking... Then my Children Must be Sleeping

I can't remember the last time, I just sat on the computer and randomly surfed the internet. We only have one computer and someone's always on it. Between job searches and keeping up with email it's a hot commodity in the household.
Tonight once I finished up all of my homework, (jobs, email, moms club), I found some extra time to look over Photoshop Tutorials. I started looking at tutorials, because my Mom got me interested in Corel Painter X, which has an extensive collection of painting tools. As I watched the Corel Tutorials, I couldn't help thinking that certainly it could be done in Photoshop. So I started Googling like crazy trying to find someone that was creating, painterly photos in Photoshop and doing it well. There are very few.
It's sites like this one though, that make me yearn for the days when I could stay up half the night reading Photoshop tutorials, because, hell, I only had to WORK the next day. I've always wanted to really experiment with painterly effects in Photoshop, but lacked the images. I always felt like I had to take them myself in order for them to be decent. But now thanks to the recent emergence of super cheap stock photo companies, I can play and play and play... without having to wait until I have a decent camera.
I don't have much time to play right now because as I said, the computer is always in use for job searches and the like... but as soon as I do, this computer is gonna be smokin'. (Maybe even literally since it's about 5 years old now)

Job 4 Jorma

Well, we finally heard from the company that Jorma’s been trying to woo. After 9 interviews, we were hoping to hear something  before the holiday. It was put off until Wed or Thursday after the holiday and then Friday. Friday we learned that it would be Monday, New Year’s Eve before we knew anything. New Year’s Eve, we got some news, but not the news we were hoping for. The person that makes the hiring decision is on vacation for the next few weeks and will check the numbers from last quarter before deciding whether or not he can be hired. So it will be several weeks before we know anything and the news we get might not be good. We know that they WANT to hire him, which is promising, but won’t pay our mortgage.

We are both, hmmm, what’s the best way to say this… a little bit disenchanted with the way corporate America manages it’s hiring process. This is the third company that he’s dealt with that really wanted to hire him, but after interviewing and making promises, determined that they didn’t have the funding available… or weren’t sure if funding was available.

At this point, we are both looking like crazy for something.
Despite all of the chaos and stress in our house, we’ve been luckily because our friends and family have been so supportive. We’ve had friends that took his resume in hand to their bosses boss and friends that called in favors with other people in their network to see if they could find something for us. It seems that everyone wants to help and for that we are so extremely grateful. Thank you to everyone that’s pestered their own family, friends and colleagues on our behalf. Just saying thank you, doesn’t feel like enough gratitude. We’d invite you all over for dinner, but I’m not sure how everyone feels about Ramen Noodles.

How you can help.

-          See if the company that you work for is hiring for anything that is Jorma-esque

-          Let us know so that we can submit his resume

-          Make them hire him

See how easy it is? I’ll keep everyone posted on the job search update. It’s possible that the Dream Job he’s been wanting will come up with funding after all and hire him just when we least expect it. Despite all of the turmoil that’s started out this year, it’s going to be a great year for us. I just know it.

 

Still waiting

Jorma heard from “potential job opportunity” last night. We were expecting a decision, but were told that it’s going to be Monday before they can let us know. They want to hire him… they just don’t know when/if they can make it happen. Is the suspense killing you? Are you tired of waiting? Yeah… we know.

RSS Feed Lives Again!

Yay! The RSS feed which was working, then wasn't, then was then wasn't has finally been fixed. Actually Jorma figured out due to a redirect on the site that the feed URL wasn't the one that Blogger said it should be in their, RSS for idiots help file.
So, if you'd like to link to my site with a feed here's the actual URL.
http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6054474/posts/default

And here's how:
On your Google Homepage choose Add Stuff >> over on the right hand side of the page. Next to the Search Homepage Content button choose “Add by URL” then put in, http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6054474/posts/default and tada! You’ll update whenever I do.
If you don’t have a Google homepage yet, because you are still dialing up on your Pentium 500, first you should get a new computer. Then you should get the Google homepage. It’s so sweet. Go to the Google site, click on Make Google Your Homepage and customize. You can even choose themes for the page that change with the time of day in your area. I’m so impressed by the Teahouse theme. It’s my fav.

Dear Connor - 3 Years, 2 Months

Dear Connor,
I am running a little behind schedule with your letter, but it’s been a busy holiday. This was the first Christmas when you were actually aware what Santa is and that he would be bringing you gifts. Christmas Eve we went to see PaPaw and Nana where you and your brother received a generous amount of presents. The favorite present was a chainsaw, which you carried around for most of the evening and played with a lot of the next day, despite the bundle of presents that Santa had left for you.

Speaking of Santa, I think he deserves an honorable mention here, as he was also most generous. I think PaPaw and Nana helped him out a great deal, providing a slew of presents to surprise you with. Your Dad and I were up late, untwisting plastic twist ties and assembling toys, (to help out Santa of course) and although we had hoped that you and your brother would give us a Christmas gift of sleeping in, you were both up bright and early at 7:00am.

In all honestly your Dad and I were dreading Christmas this year. We had no money for presents so we put you and your brother to work, creating painted flower pots, pine cone bird feeders and cookies for everyone’s gifts. We were ready to get the holiday over and done with, but once the holiday started, we enjoyed it so much that now we are sorry it’s over. You and your brother had a great time, with so many presents that it was overwhelming for you both.

You and your brother received a power tools bench, with a drill that actually screws and unscrews the screws in the pegboard table top. A couple of stuffed animals, pirate swords, a lion that can be ridden or pushed and roars when it’s nose is pressed, two little curvy Billbo seats for sitting or climbing, books, candy, clothes, bath toys, a Thomas the train aqua doodle, two dump trucks, and a backhoe and the list goes one and on. You and your brother must have been really good this year.

Since Christmas you’ve been asking, “Is TODAY Christmas?” in a hopeful voice. You love getting new toys and eating cookies for breakfast. And the joy of seeing PaPaw and Nana one day and then Grammie and Papa Chuck the very next day… AND getting cookies from both AND getting presents from both made your little toddler heart filled with joy.
Surprisingly you’ve not been beating your brother with the plastic hammer that came with your tool bench or trying to chop him up with your chainsaw. It seems that the Christmas spirit has affected you and you’ve been really good with sharing the toys you’ve both been given.

You didn’t sit on Santa’s lap this year, and I thought that you’d soon forget about the trauma of the last time you sat on his lap, but just out of the blue you announced that you didn’t like the Santa at the mall, you liked the Santa at the Mom’s Club Christmas Party, instead. You didn’t sit on Santa’s lap at the Christmas party although you were offered and politely declined. He gave you a gift and you were on your way. You liked the “no pressure” Santa.
I’m glad that you finally gotten some new toys. Your Dad and I seldom just randomly buy toys for you and your brother, but for the past year you’ve gotten nothing new in the way of toys, except for casual presents from doting Grandparents, your birthday and finally Christmas. It seems that Santa knew this and made up for lost time…
Merry Christmas Baby.
Love,
Mama

Connor's Santa List

Connor’s list to Santa as dictated to Mommy.

Dear Santa,
Bring me a sled and a reindeer. I want a bracelet and don’t forget I want a pogo stick. A big, big giant. Some chocolate coins and a peppermint stick. Train track Diego stuff. A bunny. A Dora book. A choo-choo train.
Please and Thank you,
Love,
Connor
PS And some spooky things and a pirate sword like Julian’s and a ghost pirate.

Gingerbread Man

Connor is sitting on the sofa eating a gingerbread man. I sit down next to him and he holds up his gingerbread man to show me and says, “Mommy, I ate both of his legs so he can’t run around in my tummy!”

Everything has a story

This came out of the China Cabinent before we moved it up to the attic and I've been meaning to try to get some information on it forever. We've checked the online databases of marks and such, but can't find any info on it.
OK, fess up... who has a friend that's an antique appraiser?

Still Holding my...

Jorma had his 9^th interview today, (that’s right. I said 9^th) with a company that he’s really hoping to work for. We were supposed to know today if he was officially hired or not, but it looks like due to whatever goes on behind the curtain in these corporate entities we aren’t going to know until after Christmas. Apparently it’s something that can’t be helped, but it’s harshing on the mellow of our holiday just the same. So, if you are tuning in to see if our life improved 100% or went into the shitter today, you’ll just have to keep tuning in.

And me… I’d just be happy to breathe again.

Dear Tristan - 15 Months

Dear Tristan,
It’s the first Christmas that you are really aware of what’s going on. You don’t know who Santa is, or that he will be bringing you presents, but you do know there is a huge Christmas tree in the banned from children, therefore glorious, office. A tree that has lights and shiny things that need to be touched. It’s the second year that our tree has only had ornaments on the top half, but that doesn’t stop your brother from pulling them down and handing them to you.

You and your brother are starting to pal around with each other and when you are upset, sometimes he announces that he needs to go and check on you and walks over to you and starts cooing, “It’s ok Tristan, it’s ok.” It rarely calms you down, probably because his version of cooing, it speaking in a very high pitched voice about three inches from your face. You’re not so much into that kind of thing.

You are starting to add a few new words to your vocabulary, words like Cookie – (Coo-KEEEY) and my personal favorite, Mommy (Mah-meee), you draw out the second syllable in sort of an Old South Southern Drawl... won’t Daddy be proud?! We've been trying to teach you sign language, although you don't seem very interested in it. I think that's probably because when you need to eat for example, you pull out your chair away from the table and crawl up into your booster seat, assuming the position, smiling while you wait for one of your slave-people to bring you a tray of food. You eat with gusto.

You are starting to ease into the separation anxiety phase, which means you need to be everywhere Mommy or Daddy are, that you are not. Solo bathroom trips have become something to be treasured. More often than not, it means that you follow me to the gate and if I go (sneak) into the office to check my email, you come barreling down the hallway and climb up on the gate like a monkey, screaming at the top of your lungs as if you’d just been abandoned forever.

You don’t however, seem to have stranger anxiety. I am positive that you will happily sit on Santa’s lap this year and might even smile for the camera. You walk up to strangers and beam at them adoringly, puffing out your chest and waddling away after they’ve been absorbed by the cuteness for a full 10 seconds. You don’t smile, you beam.

Love,
Mah-meeeee

Enlightened One

Happy Birthday to me!

Time for Peace

I keep meaning to post and then don’t because I’m still trying to get over the aftermath of the flu in our household and adjust to a non working schedule. We’ve started implementing something new in the household, that we are hoping will be the salvation of sanity. We are putting the kids on a schedule.
Now, you can’t help but be in a routine when you have kids. Lunches have to be eaten and naps must be taken, but the time in between is just a free for all. We are on our third day of the schedule and so far it’s working better than expected. Connor is getting used to his quiet time in the afternoons and Tristan is getting back on a sleeping schedule that isn’t torturous for us. For a while, he insisted on the morning nap, skipped the afternoon nap and was miserable from 4-7 making everyone else miserable too. If one of the kids starts to get into the fussy cycle, it starts a chain reaction through the household, which causes everything to become difficult to manage. It’s stressful.
As it turns out we have enough stress in our lives right now, which is just gasoline on the fire. So the schedule thing… it’s working.
The kids like to know what’s coming next. I feel like a walking alarm clock, but by the time dinner comes, we don’t have one running through the house screaming, while the other tries to climb the leg of the person making dinner, whining at a decibel level that would send a Nazgul into a jealous rage. But the very best thing about the schedule is that in the afternoon when Tristan naps, it’s quiet time. Which I’ve also explained to Connor is also known as Alone Time, a time that everyone needs a little bit of. And just that little bit during the day, is enough to make me feel like I’m coming closer to the surface.