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Archive for February, 2007

In Recovery

I’m back from a short hiatus…my mother-in-law flew up for the weekend. I just dropped her off at the airport, and I’m feeling exhausted.

It’s not that my mother-in-law is high maintenance, she’s very accomidating. But I had to spend the weekend playing “perfect wife and mother.”

You know what I’m saying because everyone does it. But I’ll give you a for instance…

real me after dinner…crashed out on the couch watching ‘The Office.’

me during m.i.l. visit…clearing off dishes and cleaning the ENTIRE kitchen immediately after finishing my meal, (although someone that knew me well would be able to detect resistance on my face.)

real me doing laundry…big pile in my room until I can’t walk around or over it, or it dwindles down to a small pile because everyone has to fish from it whenever they get dressed.

me during m.i.l. visit…big pile lasts until this morning when I had to “hang out” alone with her and the kids…I had to excuse myself to go do laundry in my room for an hour. Besides, she was loving the alone time with the grand-kids!

real me with the kids…”Buster, I’ve asked you five times already and your driving me crazy! Get down here and put your shoes on!!” And the neighbors can hear me.

me during visit…sweet and playful bantering with the kids, no matter what the little devils throw at me.

I miss my mid-morning nap while the kids watch “Blue’s Clues.”

I am going through “Viva Pinata” withdrawals, as I have become addicted to my five year old’s game and I play it on a weekly basis, but didn’t dare in front of HER…

I also kind of miss my house in it’s disorderly state, is that weird? 

Most importantly, I could not BLOG while she was here, for fear that should would catch my blogging about her, ugh! I shudder at the very thought!

When my hubby arrived home this evening I voiced my exhaustion and mentioned how hard it was to keep up the facade…he kind of laughed, but you know, he secretly loves it when his mom is here! 

I guess I may have the tiniest chip on my shoulder from “the dark days…”  The first three years we spent of our married life were under her roof.  While most woman get to pretend they are the picture of perfection, she got to see me pregnant, twice. And I’ll admit I was a little phsyco post- partum after the first. It doesn’t get any nastier than that. 

She does tend to talk about everything like it was what she had for lunch.

My hemorrhoids after I pushed out my first child (he was 10 lbs) were pretty bad. Pretty soon everyone in the family and her neighbors knew it. And with each consecutive pregnancy whenever she saw me she would ask how the hemorrhoids were, and if they had reached the levels of veracity that the first ones had. Let me set the record straight GRANDMA! There never were any other hemorrhoids! There never will be anymore hemorrhoids!  And never again will I let you know my private medical information. As far as you know everything will be perfect all the time!!!

But thanks for the visit, your welcome anytime, and we loved having you!   

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Your landlord shows up at your door to check on your plumbing issues, and you’ve been taking a nap while the kids watch Blue Clues,

your not wearing a bra yet,

you have to say, “wait a minute while I clear a path”

he asks if the garbage men have been forgetting to pick up the trash(they really  have!) and he mentions that with all the diapers we have, it needs to be picked up. (NOT MY FAULT!)

he asks if the kids gotten into the fingerpaint (it’s all over the upstairs wall)

he notices there’s a dog in your garage, he didn’t know you had a dog…

Doesn’t your life seem even more pathetic when someone of authority shows up to remind you that you have NOTHING and you are a terrible housekeeper, and

WHY DOES HE ONLY SHOW UP WHEN THE HOUSE IS A MESS?!

Needless to say I called up my mom afterwards and began hyperventilating on the phone.

I can’t do this, I don’t know where to start. The house is a complete pile and my mother-in-law is flying up tomorrow.

Whoa is me. I’m having an “I suck!” Day.

Haven’t you heard? It’s now a national holiday.

At least I did something right. Because my kids are adorable…and I married a good man that’s doing everything in his power to make my life life good. Which is maybe part of why I feel so bad.

I have a plan. After the house is cleaned I’m going to call my landlord and complain about something, and he’ll come over and see what a good home maker I am.

I’m not a pathetic person in “real life!”
 

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And on that note…

 When Buster woke up this morning I conducted and interrogation, in a loving, rational manner of course.  Buster is an interesting kid. He can tell you any line to any movie he’s seen once. I can’t listen to my rock music because he listens to the lyrics and asks me specifically what they mean. But if you ask the boy what he did at school today, right as he gets off the bus, he won’t remember anything!

So he really didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. What I’ve found works is if I fill in some blanks, some of the story will come out.

I know every mother says this but Buster has always been straight with me about his little scuffles. When he knocked a kid’s tooth out, he owned up to it.

When he threatened another at recess, that eventually was admitted as well. So I pried and pulled with this one but he proclaimed his innocence. Another little boy had tripped him, and when he was on the floor, the friend of the tripper jumped on him. All in good fun, Buster didn’t see why it was such a big deal, he didn’t even remember getting scolded. (Side note, this teacher is not known to be a disciplinarian so I’m sure she tried her best.) 

Of course I packed us all up in the car this morning and took him to school. 

 I had to mention these alleged allegations (kindly) and maybe that the boys should sit down and tell their sides. She was very sweet about it. I thanked her for the e-mail and mentioned I liked staying in the loop.

That was that!

So I get a very nice e-mail in my in-box today… 

Hi Mom of Buster,

 

Just following up about the wrestling incident…

 

I had a good talk with the boys at recess.  They each got to tell me
their side of the story.  We problem solved and Buster agreed to be
responsible and do the job/task that I ask him to do.  He did a great
job getting ready to go home today!

 

First name only of Miss So and So 

That’s much better. I hope his “responsible” behaviour lasts more than one day!

I appreciate all of your advice and comments!

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Let me preface this by the title I see in my inbox…First I noticed his teacher’s name MISS SoandSo and then I see the title next to it…Buster Wrestling

Never a good sign, never. I must say my heart dropped a little because he also has some previous offenses. But I had to read on… 

Hi (mother of Buster),

Just a quick note about an incident that happened at the end of the
day…

While getting ready to go home and I was attending to a student in the
class, (Buster) and another student began to wrestle.  This is unacceptable
and (Buster) owes me his recess tomorrow.  I need (Buster) to be responsible for
himself and be able to do what he should be doing even if I am not
watching him every minute.  I talked briefly with him about this and
will talk more with him tomorrow.

Thank you,

(Miss SoandSo)

 

Can I blame it all on my little brother? He gave my son a punching bag with two sets of gloves for Christmas. Then he proceeded over the next two weeks to give him some lessons in fighting.

About two weeks after the winter break my husband received a call (because I couldn’t be reached) that Buster had knocked a kid’s tooth out on the bus! 

 I screamed. This was my baby. My gentle giant. Who is so incredible with his younger siblings. Then I text messaged my ENTIRE family. A crisis like this could not be kept silent. Of course my little brother, the cause of all this trouble text-ed back “Did the kid deserve it?”

Needless to say I loaded Buster up in the mini and headed straight over to the victim’s house for an apology. 

This boy thing is new to me. He is the first born, so after the first five seconds the two werethe best of friends and we had a play-date set up for the next week.

When asked what brought on the assault Buster’s reply was “He was annoying me so I karate chopped him.”

I should also note that the victim’s front tooth was ready to fall out, and he was actually happy that Buster took care of it for him. Although there was some blood involved, and I’m sure all the kindergartners went home and told their parents.

Next incident…yes there was also another one after this catastrophe. Apparently the game was “War” a favorite of the kindies, it is always between the boys and the girls. One engaging young boy decided to play on the girls team. Buster didn’t like this and threatened him.

The next day the boy again played on the girls side. Buster threw him down on the ground, and another boy came to the victim’s rescue.  

Fast forward to today…although this sounds like both parties were in agreement to wrestle WHAT IS UP WITH MY SON?!!

Is he doomed?

I involve him in other physical activities. What I really would like to do would be to put him in a martial arts class where the instructor puts the fear into them that they must never fight outside of class.

In the meantime, funds are low, and the local YMCA Basketball will have to do.

I try to reassure the other parents that we are a normal, peaceful home.

Oh dear.

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Game

Over at mejojacs memo’s she was playing a funny game.  I decided to play to because I love games. Go to google, type in your name and “needs” and see what pops up. Pick your top ten, here are mine;

1.) **** needs another miracle…(ain’t it the truth.)

2.)          needs a drink.  (Maybe this is not what they meant but I was just having a     discussion with a friend about drinking more water. Water? I barely have time to pee by myself!)

3.)         needs to wear shirts. (Mine can be shirts WITHOUT stains on them)

4.)                     to go to bed.  (totally)

5.)                     a new hobby.  (I was thinking of starting a fight club, for women.)

6.)                    an exorcism…(sometimes I wonder)

7.)                     a haircut.  (Is it that bad?)

8.)     needs to learn how to act like a tourguide. (Enough said)

9.)    needs and deserves your attention. (Oh how sweet)

10.) and lastly **** NEEDS TO GET OVER HERSELF! 

Play with me! It’s good for a smile at least.

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Yesterday something happened here in Seattle that is phenomenon this time of year…the sun came out. 

Far be it from me to EVER let a sunny day in SEATTLE slip through my fingers.  There is a reason they call it “The Emerald City,” if you’re lucky enough to be here when it shines, it’s the most beautiful city in the United States.

So I loaded up the three large dogs, and three small kids, and headed to a 240 acre dog park.

When I think of “dog park” I think of the California variety, a nice chain link fence, water fountains, even the courtesy dog bowls left near picnic benches. Uh-uh, don’t kid yourself my dears…people in the northwest are “no frills.” 

Sorry for that tangent.

Needless to say, mommy was unprepared for the hike at the dog park.  It was huge, but there were no chain link fences. There was a simple fence made out of three pieces of wood, and some posts with a beauty bark path that led us to vast hills covered in rough terrain.

People and their dogs flooded the place. On 240 acres of land, I would have thought it would feel emptier.  I guess thousands of others also wanted to take advantage of the one sunny day we’ll see for the next three weeks.  

But withBubba in a backpack and Buster was holding one dog while I had two, we trudged along. Of course Missy, being a three  year old was walking around in her own little world, unaware of mommy’s struggle towards the unknown. I think I had whiplash from constantly checking on her.  I did get many looks of bewilderment at my brood. A little girl came up to me and courteously informed me that I could let my dogs off leash.  Ahhhh! Only the innocent could have suggested such a thing.

But I did. I had too. It was a dog park!And I had to let Bubba out of the back pack because he was murdering my back. He’s quite large for his age. Hence the nickname.

Another tangent, sorry. 

Have you ever herded cattle?  Sheep maybe? Three dogs and three kids? I sweat-ed it out a little because there were so many dogs there and so much land it was hard to keep mine straight. But as I’ve expressed before, the dogs were very obedient, and thankful for my hard work.  And thirsty. It was 65 degrees but to us it fekt like 80. Our bodies are still thawing out from frostbite. 

The kids can thank me later when they’re well adjusted adults.

It really was a beautiful day. I think God knew how much I needed that sun.

Did I mention that new shoots are springing up from the bulbs in the flower boxes, and there are these little yellow flowers pushing their way through the leaves in front of our house. Spring is around the corner and I’m more than ready for it.  

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Sad, but true. Can I blame my parents? My dad is just like me. We have the same build, skinny, and tall. I have his chicken legs and broad shoulders. And his sweet tooth. He’s the guy that eats pie for breakfast, and I tend to agree with him about that one. It’s the same thing as a breakfast pastry, only much better. If you heat it up and add ice-cream you’ve got fruit, bread and dairy. Fabulous!

When my dad was in highschool he used to by a dozen maple bars and some rootbeer and finish them in and evening at a highschool ball game.

Did I mention maplebars are my favorite?

So yeah, I think I can blame this on my dad. After every healthy meal I make I feel the need to balance it with something sweet.  And it’s much worse now after all the holidays. I need some major detoxing.

When I was pregnant with Buster, he came out weighing 9’15, and I shouldn’t same “came out” because he had to be pulled out with a vacuum on his head.  Yeah, I had major damage from that one but we can get in to that some other time.  But for the next two children they tested me twice for gestational diabetes, thinking that’s what made him big. I laughed and told them two things,

first: test me all you want, but this body of mine lives off sugar, it processes sugar in large amounts everyday, it’s totally used to it.

second: if I ever did test positive (which I never have) I think my body would suffer more damage going through sugar withdrawals then it ever would carrying a large child.

I know I need help. What can a girl do? I’ve been living this way since I graduated high-school. (Maybe I shouldn’t call myself a girl, am I considered a woman know that I’m 30?)

I maintained a pretty healthy diet in highschool. I was a dancer, I had to stare at myself in a huge mirror 6 hours a day 5 days a week. Though this did not lead to any eating disorders, I was careful about what I put into my body. Nevertheless, some candy is considered non-fat, and you can be sure I partook occasionally.

There are two stories in my family that are brought up mercilessly when we get together.

One is how I stole all of my sisters valentine candy and hid their Valentine mailboxes in the attic so they would think they misplaced them.

The other is that I started this C.O.W. club (Care Of World) when I was about 11, my cousins and sisters and I would put on plays for money. We had a big tin going and we were going to buy and acre of rain-forest with it. (I was very nature conscious as a youngster) Anyway, one desperate day, I took that tin and went down to the local mini-mart and SPENT IT ALL ON CANDY!

What can I say. Even reading it now I’m desperately ashamed and realizing maybe my problem is bigger than I thought. 

I went to photography school for college. It was very expensive, I was constantly buying materials for class, developer, paper, film.  It all adds up. And my car was a yellow ’76 Cadillac Deville, sweet ride my grandpa gave me, but it cost about $14 a day to get to and from Seattle.

So during college I ate what I could afford. A candy bar was only .50 cents, and filled me up for a few hours. When I finished school and moved back in with my parents I was pretty much emaciated.

I can make many excuses, but the first step to recover is admittance, is it not? Am I doomed to another 30 years of slavery to that refined drug of choice? Is a woman of my age and accomplishments not entitled to the little bit of joy that a sugar high brings? I don’t know all the answers. Eventually it’s GOT TO STOP.

I’ll be letting you know how it goes, as I train for the triathlon that should really help. That, and switching to some other vice. (kidding!)

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