You know that old saying, "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you"? Yes,... well, I'm feelin' the pain.
Let me rewind a little with some backstory. The three youngest in our family are extremely high-spirited boys. Lovely, smart, funny, energetic boys. They are also competitive boys. And, sometimes, angry boys. When the latter happens (mostly with Jack and Charlie, the two 9-year-olds), I've discovered we're now in the troubled waters of actual physical fighting. But it isn't limited to a little nudge or slap here or there. We're talking full-on mortal combat -- it usually begins with a verbal altercation, followed by chasing. When the chaser catches up with the chasee ... all holy hell breaks loose. We're talking headlocks, clinches, fistfuls of hair being pulled, scratching, etc. It's disgusting and it completely breaks my heart as I see my two precious babies beat each other silly. I used to routinely step in and literally pull them apart, thus stopping the fight. Now, as they are growing stronger and taller, it isn't quite that easy. Case in point: last Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. The kids had the day off school, so I was being all Suzie Homemaker and thought I'd scramble eggs for breakfast. In the 45-seconds between leaving them in the den and going to the kitchen to begin cooking some sort of problem erupted. Before I knew what was happening, they had completed one lap around the first floor (the chase, remember?) and ended their parade, literally, at my feet in the kitchen. It was a blur of grunting, punching and tumbling to the floor. I instinctively stepped in, grabbed the first child I could lay my hands on and pulled. Nothing. I pulled harder. Still nothing. At some point, I found a weak spot and managed to get the boys separated. In the process, managed to injure myself. Throughout the day, one of my fingers proceeded to swell and ache. By 10pm, I was convinced it was broken. Nice. See what I get for trying to keep my kids from injuring each other? And being six months pregnant, it now seems a bit more dangerous to put myself between them as they roll around like bear cubs.
Then, like clockwork, we had a similar altercation within the week. I'd had it. Once again, I managed to break up the fight, but I'd had it. I consulted my husband (who happened to be working at the time) on the situation and possible punishments. We came up with a one-day mega grounding: yesterday, when the boys came home from school, one went to their bedroom and the other to the den. There they sat quietly reading for about two hours until dinner. After eating, they were allowed to swap spots, and quietly read for another 45 minutes until we went to church for Advent service. Following our arrival home, they immediately took showers and went to their beds. Any remaining time before lights out (about 30 min.) was spent -- you guessed it -- quietly reading. There was no television, xBox, GameBoys, puzzles, drawing, etc. Just sitting and reading. Granted there may be some parents who feel this is a bit extreme. And there may be others who think it was too "cushy." Whatever. I'm not looking for approval. The point of the matter is that they hated it. These boys are very social creatures, and the constant reminder of their punishment as their younger brother strolled at will about the house, watched SpongeBob Squarepants and even went next door to play with a friend was enough.
The new rule: If you physically fight and hit anyone in any way, shape or form, you WILL be sequestered to the house to do absolutely nothing (except read, if you wish) for a day.
So, going back to the old phrase, how exactly does this hurt me? I hate punishing the kids. Plain and simple. Yes, life would be much easier and pleasant if I didn't have to be handing out punishments for breaches in civil behavior. But, as our much-loved pediatrician pointed out, "Children do not need a friend at this age... they need a parent. You have the rest of their lives to be their friend." It is truly sage advice that I've repeated to myself over and over again, after disciplining one of the kids and hearing them voice their displeasure. I even told the boys last night how much I absolutely hate (and we don't use that word often) punishing them. I told them flat out that I hate it because then we can't go do fun things if they're grounded. (They lost out on "Waffle Cone Wednesday" at TCBY last night because of their punishment.) And if they're in the house serving time, I have to be there to monitor them, unless I'm OK with the child nearest the den sneaking into the pantry to snack at will -- and I'm not OK with that.
Unfortunately, we're repeating the mega-grounding again today. This time it's Jack and Sam. Seems there was a slight problem getting buckled in the car last night, resulting in Sam hitting Jack and Jack returning the favor with a powerful slug to Sam's arm.
Ugh. This Christmas, if we can't have peace on Earth, I'd settle for peace in our house. :)
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Guilt Money
It's the news on everyone's lips: the recession. Or at least the "official announcement" that came yesterday, telling us the country is, indeed, in a recession. Call me crazy... but I'm pretty sure we all knew that factoid before the economists put their blessing on the news. Since this is the latest buzz, it isn't surprising that the related news articles are everywhere. One in particular caught my eye this morning titled, "Luxury shame: Why even the very rich are cutting back on conspicuous consumption" (by Johnnie L. Roberts, published in the current Newsweek). Intrigued, I read on -- then found myself fuming mad.
The whole article detailed how those with wealth well into the vulgar range are reigning in their spending because they feel a little guilty about said wealth. It began with some multimillionaire who collects high-end properties like Hallmark ornaments. "I collect homes because I enjoy it," he was quoted as saying. This is a man who has just one piece of property valued at $27 million. One property. ONE! And he does this because he enjoys it. The article went on to document (among other specifics) the fact that Lehman Bros. CEO Richard Fuld was raked over the hot coals at a Congressional hearing for his post-bankruptcy half-billion dollar compensation, owning several multi-, multi, MULTI-million dollar estates AND an art collection which was valued at $200 million. The article said all Fuld could muster was "sheepishness," and went on to state he had recently auctioned off $20 million worth of art. Unless I am missing something here, if he auctioned off part of his art collection, didn't that basically just liquidate an asset? I mean, it never said he donated the proceeds to a charity, or some other philanthropic move. So, did he pocket the cash, or what? And then there's AIG, who reportedly treated top-level employees to a $440,000 spa retreat AFTER THE GOVERNMENT BAILED THEM OUT, COSTING THE TAXPAYERS $150 BILLION. Ummm, excuse me. Where's my day at the spa?
Then, in what appeared to be an effort to show how the wealthy are trying to dumb things down and not be as showy, Roberts reported future First Lady Michelle Obama recently appeared on a late night talk show in a "$400 J. Crew ensemble, rather than a designer dress." With all due respect to Mrs. Obama, is that statement supposed to make the rest of us feel better? You've got to be kidding me. No one I know would/could drop $400 on an "ensemble" from J. Crew. Not long ago I was so proud to tell anyone who would listen that I spent a whole $75 dollars on a lot of 13 maternity outfits off eBay -- apparently "going cheap" to some people consists of shelling out $400 at J. Crew. (But for the rest of us who have seen --and choked on--the retail prices of maternity clothes, isn't that a STEAL?!) But I digress...
You know, with Christmas just a little over three weeks away many of us would rather not hear about how the wealthy are feeling guilty about having sooooooo much money. I'd love to say they deserve to feel guilty, when there are countless American families who are in tears trying to figure out how to buy gifts for their kids this year. However, it is not my place to judge. For those elite wealthy who are crying the "too much money" blues, at this point it isn't about the fact that you have all that money, but rather, what are you going to do with it? No matter how they came into the astronomical sums of money in the bank -- earn, gift, steal, etc. -- it is what it is now. You have it, and what you choose to do with it is up to you.
Just don't insult the rest of us by publicly airing how "guilty" you feel.
The whole article detailed how those with wealth well into the vulgar range are reigning in their spending because they feel a little guilty about said wealth. It began with some multimillionaire who collects high-end properties like Hallmark ornaments. "I collect homes because I enjoy it," he was quoted as saying. This is a man who has just one piece of property valued at $27 million. One property. ONE! And he does this because he enjoys it. The article went on to document (among other specifics) the fact that Lehman Bros. CEO Richard Fuld was raked over the hot coals at a Congressional hearing for his post-bankruptcy half-billion dollar compensation, owning several multi-, multi, MULTI-million dollar estates AND an art collection which was valued at $200 million. The article said all Fuld could muster was "sheepishness," and went on to state he had recently auctioned off $20 million worth of art. Unless I am missing something here, if he auctioned off part of his art collection, didn't that basically just liquidate an asset? I mean, it never said he donated the proceeds to a charity, or some other philanthropic move. So, did he pocket the cash, or what? And then there's AIG, who reportedly treated top-level employees to a $440,000 spa retreat AFTER THE GOVERNMENT BAILED THEM OUT, COSTING THE TAXPAYERS $150 BILLION. Ummm, excuse me. Where's my day at the spa?
Then, in what appeared to be an effort to show how the wealthy are trying to dumb things down and not be as showy, Roberts reported future First Lady Michelle Obama recently appeared on a late night talk show in a "$400 J. Crew ensemble, rather than a designer dress." With all due respect to Mrs. Obama, is that statement supposed to make the rest of us feel better? You've got to be kidding me. No one I know would/could drop $400 on an "ensemble" from J. Crew. Not long ago I was so proud to tell anyone who would listen that I spent a whole $75 dollars on a lot of 13 maternity outfits off eBay -- apparently "going cheap" to some people consists of shelling out $400 at J. Crew. (But for the rest of us who have seen --and choked on--the retail prices of maternity clothes, isn't that a STEAL?!) But I digress...
You know, with Christmas just a little over three weeks away many of us would rather not hear about how the wealthy are feeling guilty about having sooooooo much money. I'd love to say they deserve to feel guilty, when there are countless American families who are in tears trying to figure out how to buy gifts for their kids this year. However, it is not my place to judge. For those elite wealthy who are crying the "too much money" blues, at this point it isn't about the fact that you have all that money, but rather, what are you going to do with it? No matter how they came into the astronomical sums of money in the bank -- earn, gift, steal, etc. -- it is what it is now. You have it, and what you choose to do with it is up to you.
Just don't insult the rest of us by publicly airing how "guilty" you feel.
Monday, December 1, 2008
'Tis the Season... Officially
We got an early "Welcome to December" present yesterday with about an inch of snow on the ground. Despite it falling on November 30, I will take it for December 1, and officially herald in the holiday season. I'm not one of those early birds who readily accepts stores putting up Christmas decorations in mid-October. No way. With the calendar reading December and snow on the ground, I'm ready to begin shopping and assorted holiday planning.
The one thing I will try to tackle early is a New Year's resolution -- which would be to write more often, including blog entries. I have no idea if anyone (besides the three "followers" I have... THANK YOU, JENNY, ETHAN AND LINDY!) regularly reads this blog, but it sure is fun to write. When I write, that is. I've even given the page a little face lift. I like the color scheme much better than the old one... although I haven't yet figured out how the little "tool" icons popped up. Not that I'm opposed to being handy, but the wrench and screwdriver combo doesn't quite keep with my overall theme. (If I can even claim an "overall theme," that is.) Regardless, I like the fresh, new look. Maybe it will entice me back to post more often. :)
We have so much going on this time of year, and in our lives in general. Now we begin thinking of gifts to share with others. True, it's the season of giving to others, but it seems like a necessity to take a few minutes every day and recount the little blessings of the day -- it's like a little gift for yourself. It's a perfect chance to pause and be grateful for every last one of the day's moments. And I am grateful... beyond grateful most days. In fact, I was recently asked, "Are you happy?" At the time, I simply answered "yes," with a smile. The truth of the matter is that I am happier right now in my life than I have ever been... and happier than I ever thought I could be. Happy, content and eager to see what each day will bring -- good and bad. I have a wonderful family (both immediate and extended), and a few really close, true friends with whom I can share the good times, and find love and support during the bad times.
And what a priceless gift that is, too.
The one thing I will try to tackle early is a New Year's resolution -- which would be to write more often, including blog entries. I have no idea if anyone (besides the three "followers" I have... THANK YOU, JENNY, ETHAN AND LINDY!) regularly reads this blog, but it sure is fun to write. When I write, that is. I've even given the page a little face lift. I like the color scheme much better than the old one... although I haven't yet figured out how the little "tool" icons popped up. Not that I'm opposed to being handy, but the wrench and screwdriver combo doesn't quite keep with my overall theme. (If I can even claim an "overall theme," that is.) Regardless, I like the fresh, new look. Maybe it will entice me back to post more often. :)
We have so much going on this time of year, and in our lives in general. Now we begin thinking of gifts to share with others. True, it's the season of giving to others, but it seems like a necessity to take a few minutes every day and recount the little blessings of the day -- it's like a little gift for yourself. It's a perfect chance to pause and be grateful for every last one of the day's moments. And I am grateful... beyond grateful most days. In fact, I was recently asked, "Are you happy?" At the time, I simply answered "yes," with a smile. The truth of the matter is that I am happier right now in my life than I have ever been... and happier than I ever thought I could be. Happy, content and eager to see what each day will bring -- good and bad. I have a wonderful family (both immediate and extended), and a few really close, true friends with whom I can share the good times, and find love and support during the bad times.
And what a priceless gift that is, too.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Sickness and Sadness
You know how you find yourself rolling along just fine and dandy ... things are going pretty well, other than the usual day-to-day hiccups. Then... BAM! You get smacked with a bunch of things at once? The kind of things that plant your feet firmly on the ground and bring you back to the reality of life.
There's a nasty flu bug going around, which (knock on wood!) I think we may have avoided. I've been giving the boys their daily vitamin and supplements, followed by a quick prayer that they remember to wash their hands well at school. The cousins have been knocked down by this bug, and Kate came down with it earlier in the week. It is not a virus to be taken lightly -- it will whip your butt if given the chance.
I have been on vigilant Lysol patrol, misting doorknobs, refrigerator door handles, remote controls, the phone, etc. Basically, if it cannot run from me, it gets disinfected. Germs fear me.
I got an email from a childhood friend, Missi, a few days ago with "horrible news" in the subject heading. That's never good. Seems one of our friends, Cory, committed suicide last week. Wow. Talk about reading something that takes the wind out of your sails for a few minutes. Not many details are known yet, but we all set out to notify other friends from high school. Sigh. I sat there, silent for a few minutes letting the news sink in. I felt overwhelming sadness. Then it occurred to me that I'd only seen Cory a total of about three times since we graduated 20 years ago. Two class reunions and a bachelorette party. How was it that I felt such a loss for someone I'd barely seen in two decades? I received a few more emails that night, one from another high school friend. He, unknowingly, answered my question. He wrote that no matter how scattered or removed we are from our hometown and the people there, they are -- and will always be -- part of who we are. He was so right. That town, those people... they helped form the foundation of the people we are today. Maybe we aren't in constant contact with everyone who hung out together in grade school/junior high/high school, but they are part of the fabric of who we've all become and the relationships we have today.
So, in remembering Cory, I will try not to focus on her tragic end. Rather, I will always remember her seemingly never-ending crush on John Hrapek in elementary school; riding the bus with her and Missi to school every day of junior high; being lab partners in sophomore chemistry, where we somehow decided we'd like to run for president/VP some day and came up with the slogan "'88 or '92! We don't care, it's up to you!" (OK, so we were a little off on the age requirement, being that we'd have only been 19 or 23 at the time of election. It was the thought that counted.) I will fondly remember my friend Pam and I being locker neighbors with Cory and Missi our senior year -- it's amazing how much drama and hilarity you can pack into 5-minute passing periods throughout the day. I will also never forget Cory, Missi and myself being the "chatty Bermuda Triangle" in creative writing class. And when we weren't chatting, driving Mr. Pinkerton crazy (in a good way), we would pass notes. They were hilarious. I kept them for many years, based on how re-reading them would make me laugh until I cried. I wonder if I might still have them. I will remember how much fun we had at Missi's bachelorette party in Chicago... and at our 10-year high school reunion.
The last time I saw Cory was a little over a year ago at our 20-year reunion. If she was sad/depressed at that point, I'd have never seen it. She was always laughing. And that's exactly how I want to remember her.
Goodbye, Cory. So many will miss you.
"I left my heart,... In Sam Clam's Disco..."
There's a nasty flu bug going around, which (knock on wood!) I think we may have avoided. I've been giving the boys their daily vitamin and supplements, followed by a quick prayer that they remember to wash their hands well at school. The cousins have been knocked down by this bug, and Kate came down with it earlier in the week. It is not a virus to be taken lightly -- it will whip your butt if given the chance.
I have been on vigilant Lysol patrol, misting doorknobs, refrigerator door handles, remote controls, the phone, etc. Basically, if it cannot run from me, it gets disinfected. Germs fear me.
I got an email from a childhood friend, Missi, a few days ago with "horrible news" in the subject heading. That's never good. Seems one of our friends, Cory, committed suicide last week. Wow. Talk about reading something that takes the wind out of your sails for a few minutes. Not many details are known yet, but we all set out to notify other friends from high school. Sigh. I sat there, silent for a few minutes letting the news sink in. I felt overwhelming sadness. Then it occurred to me that I'd only seen Cory a total of about three times since we graduated 20 years ago. Two class reunions and a bachelorette party. How was it that I felt such a loss for someone I'd barely seen in two decades? I received a few more emails that night, one from another high school friend. He, unknowingly, answered my question. He wrote that no matter how scattered or removed we are from our hometown and the people there, they are -- and will always be -- part of who we are. He was so right. That town, those people... they helped form the foundation of the people we are today. Maybe we aren't in constant contact with everyone who hung out together in grade school/junior high/high school, but they are part of the fabric of who we've all become and the relationships we have today.
So, in remembering Cory, I will try not to focus on her tragic end. Rather, I will always remember her seemingly never-ending crush on John Hrapek in elementary school; riding the bus with her and Missi to school every day of junior high; being lab partners in sophomore chemistry, where we somehow decided we'd like to run for president/VP some day and came up with the slogan "'88 or '92! We don't care, it's up to you!" (OK, so we were a little off on the age requirement, being that we'd have only been 19 or 23 at the time of election. It was the thought that counted.) I will fondly remember my friend Pam and I being locker neighbors with Cory and Missi our senior year -- it's amazing how much drama and hilarity you can pack into 5-minute passing periods throughout the day. I will also never forget Cory, Missi and myself being the "chatty Bermuda Triangle" in creative writing class. And when we weren't chatting, driving Mr. Pinkerton crazy (in a good way), we would pass notes. They were hilarious. I kept them for many years, based on how re-reading them would make me laugh until I cried. I wonder if I might still have them. I will remember how much fun we had at Missi's bachelorette party in Chicago... and at our 10-year high school reunion.
The last time I saw Cory was a little over a year ago at our 20-year reunion. If she was sad/depressed at that point, I'd have never seen it. She was always laughing. And that's exactly how I want to remember her.
Goodbye, Cory. So many will miss you.
"I left my heart,... In Sam Clam's Disco..."
Friday, November 7, 2008
Just call me Monkey Bread
Well, well, well... look who's putting up another post! And within a week of the last one!
I was driving to work today, categorizing and prioritizing the various things I want/need to accomplish in the near future. (The "near future" being anywhere from this morning until ... ???) Every time I'd think of something and add it to the mental list, another one would pop into my head, weaseling its way in front of the last thing. I started having that feeling of being pulled in every direction -- sort of like Monkey Bread. You know, it's like a big blob of cinnamon rolls, and half the fun of eating it is pulling off individual pieces as you go.
Feeling pulled in a million directions isn't always fun and games. In fact, I've never known it to be ANY fun at all. I mean, it's nice to feel "needed," but when several areas of your life are needing things from you on a daily basis, it can become a bit too much. Two Thanksgivings ago, while driving to my parents house for the feast, I had an epiphany of sorts. As a single-parent then, I felt I needed to focus on things in my life that were important (my kids, extended family, work, etc.) eliminate everything in my life that was taking away from that. I realized that, in 25 years, no one would remember (or care, for that matter) that I served on such-and-such committee, or handled XYZ for some organization. What would matter was the time I spent with my boys... and what kind of relationship we had. Being too stressed out with too many things on my plate made me cranky, and being cranky when dealing with kids is a recipe for disaster.
Now, remarried with a seven- (soon to be eight) person family, there are a whole new list of priorities to order. I guess if I can just remember to keep who and what is important at the forefront of my mind, I should be good to go.
And the only Monkey Bread I'll have to worry about is the batch I want to make for Thanksgiving. :)
I was driving to work today, categorizing and prioritizing the various things I want/need to accomplish in the near future. (The "near future" being anywhere from this morning until ... ???) Every time I'd think of something and add it to the mental list, another one would pop into my head, weaseling its way in front of the last thing. I started having that feeling of being pulled in every direction -- sort of like Monkey Bread. You know, it's like a big blob of cinnamon rolls, and half the fun of eating it is pulling off individual pieces as you go.
Feeling pulled in a million directions isn't always fun and games. In fact, I've never known it to be ANY fun at all. I mean, it's nice to feel "needed," but when several areas of your life are needing things from you on a daily basis, it can become a bit too much. Two Thanksgivings ago, while driving to my parents house for the feast, I had an epiphany of sorts. As a single-parent then, I felt I needed to focus on things in my life that were important (my kids, extended family, work, etc.) eliminate everything in my life that was taking away from that. I realized that, in 25 years, no one would remember (or care, for that matter) that I served on such-and-such committee, or handled XYZ for some organization. What would matter was the time I spent with my boys... and what kind of relationship we had. Being too stressed out with too many things on my plate made me cranky, and being cranky when dealing with kids is a recipe for disaster.
Now, remarried with a seven- (soon to be eight) person family, there are a whole new list of priorities to order. I guess if I can just remember to keep who and what is important at the forefront of my mind, I should be good to go.
And the only Monkey Bread I'll have to worry about is the batch I want to make for Thanksgiving. :)
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Cleaning before company comes...
No, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. Nor have I been sucked into a giant black hole in the universe. Life just has a way of getting in the way sometimes. Sounds lame, I know... but true. How sad when a person doesn't even have 10 minutes to spare and ramble incessantly about life in general?
I just re-visited a friend's website. I hadn't been there in a while, and wanted to check her blog to see what she's been up to. Reading her update prompted me to dash off a quick email to her and check in. I told her about having started this blog, and gave her the address to come visit. Of course, I admitted I hadn't posted in ages, which was a good nudge to get me here and update things. I likened it to cleaning up before company comes over... so here I am. Sans feather duster, but here I am nonetheless.
Thankfully, all shreds of whatever fever/virus was visiting our home have left the building. At least I hope so. Now, in our post-Halloween sugar buzz, my main objective is to keep the excess sugar from completley depleting everyone's immune systems. I know, I know,... I'm just short of being the ultimate "Candy Nazi." But I'm OK with that. Seriously.
We are gearing up for a mid-month, early Thanksgiving celebration in Chicago with relatives. Actually, a bit north of Chicago in Crystal Lake. (Shout out to Stacy! "HEY!") We are calling it our "Festivus," but will have traditional Thanksgiving all together back in Indiana a couple of weeks later. Honestly, there is no such thing as too much Thanksgiving... or as I lovingly refer to it, "the kickoff of 'Pie Season!'"
The "little one inside" is growing healthier and stronger each day. This fact is perfectly illustrated by the repeated kicks and shoves he's giving to my internal organs. This is especially charming when he targets my bladder. Enough said. After joking with one of my co-workers today... some light griping about the pregnancy ... she asked in all seriousness if I was excited about it. Truthfully, I am. It's just that this came so out of left field, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that in a matter of months, we're going to have another child. Not just another kid to trek around to school and activities, but a newborn who will rely on us for every waking/sleeping need and want for a looooong time. We will be back to square one (Hence the name of this blog; clever, no?) when we were all set to sit back and enjoy the ride with five kids. With the element of surprise as a major factor, I find times when I still can't believe this is happening. Not in an "Oh-my-gosh-Why-me?" kind of way, but in a state of total disbelief that we would be blessed in such an awesome way this late in life. So, yes... I am excited. I would probably be more outwardly excited if I weren't experiencing some of the less glamourous accompaniements of pregnancy, but I digress. (Seriously. You don't want to know.) I will admit... I have two baby outfits hanging in my closet. Six-year-old Sam spotted them on a trip to Sam's Club one day, and begged me to get them. When I am reaching for something near those two outfits, I often stop... take one down and hold it out in front of me. Most times I will hold it under the arms, like holding a baby in it, and I just smile, marveling at how little it is. It won't be long...
I just re-visited a friend's website. I hadn't been there in a while, and wanted to check her blog to see what she's been up to. Reading her update prompted me to dash off a quick email to her and check in. I told her about having started this blog, and gave her the address to come visit. Of course, I admitted I hadn't posted in ages, which was a good nudge to get me here and update things. I likened it to cleaning up before company comes over... so here I am. Sans feather duster, but here I am nonetheless.
Thankfully, all shreds of whatever fever/virus was visiting our home have left the building. At least I hope so. Now, in our post-Halloween sugar buzz, my main objective is to keep the excess sugar from completley depleting everyone's immune systems. I know, I know,... I'm just short of being the ultimate "Candy Nazi." But I'm OK with that. Seriously.
We are gearing up for a mid-month, early Thanksgiving celebration in Chicago with relatives. Actually, a bit north of Chicago in Crystal Lake. (Shout out to Stacy! "HEY!") We are calling it our "Festivus," but will have traditional Thanksgiving all together back in Indiana a couple of weeks later. Honestly, there is no such thing as too much Thanksgiving... or as I lovingly refer to it, "the kickoff of 'Pie Season!'"
The "little one inside" is growing healthier and stronger each day. This fact is perfectly illustrated by the repeated kicks and shoves he's giving to my internal organs. This is especially charming when he targets my bladder. Enough said. After joking with one of my co-workers today... some light griping about the pregnancy ... she asked in all seriousness if I was excited about it. Truthfully, I am. It's just that this came so out of left field, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that in a matter of months, we're going to have another child. Not just another kid to trek around to school and activities, but a newborn who will rely on us for every waking/sleeping need and want for a looooong time. We will be back to square one (Hence the name of this blog; clever, no?) when we were all set to sit back and enjoy the ride with five kids. With the element of surprise as a major factor, I find times when I still can't believe this is happening. Not in an "Oh-my-gosh-Why-me?" kind of way, but in a state of total disbelief that we would be blessed in such an awesome way this late in life. So, yes... I am excited. I would probably be more outwardly excited if I weren't experiencing some of the less glamourous accompaniements of pregnancy, but I digress. (Seriously. You don't want to know.) I will admit... I have two baby outfits hanging in my closet. Six-year-old Sam spotted them on a trip to Sam's Club one day, and begged me to get them. When I am reaching for something near those two outfits, I often stop... take one down and hold it out in front of me. Most times I will hold it under the arms, like holding a baby in it, and I just smile, marveling at how little it is. It won't be long...
Thursday, October 16, 2008
A Day Off...?
I had a day off work Wednesday, because one of the kiddos was home sick with a fever. It was one of those pesky fevers that would subside with Tylenol, but spike back up when it wore off. Despite feeling crummy, he was a trooper and put up with me pushing fluids on him all day long. We all have our vices. I happen to be a hydration freak. Bless his heart.
So, on my day "off," one might think I lounged on the sofa with the boy, watching movies and interesting shows on The Food Network, on say... ice cream. (Which we did, and now I'm craving ice cream.) Nope. Instead, I waged a full-force attack on the laundry piles haunting my sons' rooms. Then I marched boldly into the 9-year-olds' room, took a deep breath and opened the closet. To say this small space was a disaster is an insult to disasters everywhere. Catastrophic would be more the word. Clearly, they had about three times as many clothes in there than they wear on a daily basis. Where these clothes came from, I have no idea. It's like they were breeding in there. T-shirts, sweatpants, shorts,... ugh. Half of the stuff was partially stacked, the other half gasping for a last breath on the floor. The pregnancy "nesting" phase has kicked in, so I went to work. Picture the Looney Toons Tasmanian Devil cleaning a closet. In about an hour, I had most everything done, with separate piles on the floor for donating, eBay and passing down to their litlte brother. When all was said and done, I stepped back and texted my husband: "You won't BELIEVE how the boys' closet looks now!" I'm sure he'll agree it looks a ton better, but probably had to be there to fully experience the satisfaction and emotion I felt. How sad that a cleaning a closet fills me with such glee.
I did manage to sit down every now and then to rest, and give my legs a break. Just the day before, I discovered to my shock and dismay... varicose veins. In the past two pregnancies, I hadn't experienced even the slightest problem with them. Now, on the fast train to 40, apparently it's time. Waking up one morning and noticing a "bruise" on the back of my leg that looks like someone took to it with a lead pipe was a bit horrifying. The aching pain that has accompanied them is irritating at best. So, I brought basket after basket of laundry to fold and keep Jack company in the family room. We chatted. We watched a Harry Potter movie, and he was so inspired to pick up the last book in the series and begin reading. It was a dreary, rainy day ... and while I know I had a list of assignments to jump on at work ... I'd have rather been nowhere else.
So, yes -- my day "off" managed to morph into a day where I work myself silly at home. So much so, that at 8pm, after getting dinner around and cleaning the kitchen, I cozied up on the sofa with all the boys and found an interesting program on the science channel to watch. Whether it was a result of the day, or the fact that I wasn't charmed by the "rod phenomenon" (study of mysterious "rod shaped" objects caught on photo and tape for decades) I promptly fell asleep, waking at 9pm to get the boys off to their own beds. By that time, they had become enthralled with "Survivorman," and the fact that he fashioned the flame-blower from a hot air balloon into a defense weapon against predators on African plain. (Namely, lions.)
Now THAT'S a good day's work, as well!
So, on my day "off," one might think I lounged on the sofa with the boy, watching movies and interesting shows on The Food Network, on say... ice cream. (Which we did, and now I'm craving ice cream.) Nope. Instead, I waged a full-force attack on the laundry piles haunting my sons' rooms. Then I marched boldly into the 9-year-olds' room, took a deep breath and opened the closet. To say this small space was a disaster is an insult to disasters everywhere. Catastrophic would be more the word. Clearly, they had about three times as many clothes in there than they wear on a daily basis. Where these clothes came from, I have no idea. It's like they were breeding in there. T-shirts, sweatpants, shorts,... ugh. Half of the stuff was partially stacked, the other half gasping for a last breath on the floor. The pregnancy "nesting" phase has kicked in, so I went to work. Picture the Looney Toons Tasmanian Devil cleaning a closet. In about an hour, I had most everything done, with separate piles on the floor for donating, eBay and passing down to their litlte brother. When all was said and done, I stepped back and texted my husband: "You won't BELIEVE how the boys' closet looks now!" I'm sure he'll agree it looks a ton better, but probably had to be there to fully experience the satisfaction and emotion I felt. How sad that a cleaning a closet fills me with such glee.
I did manage to sit down every now and then to rest, and give my legs a break. Just the day before, I discovered to my shock and dismay... varicose veins. In the past two pregnancies, I hadn't experienced even the slightest problem with them. Now, on the fast train to 40, apparently it's time. Waking up one morning and noticing a "bruise" on the back of my leg that looks like someone took to it with a lead pipe was a bit horrifying. The aching pain that has accompanied them is irritating at best. So, I brought basket after basket of laundry to fold and keep Jack company in the family room. We chatted. We watched a Harry Potter movie, and he was so inspired to pick up the last book in the series and begin reading. It was a dreary, rainy day ... and while I know I had a list of assignments to jump on at work ... I'd have rather been nowhere else.
So, yes -- my day "off" managed to morph into a day where I work myself silly at home. So much so, that at 8pm, after getting dinner around and cleaning the kitchen, I cozied up on the sofa with all the boys and found an interesting program on the science channel to watch. Whether it was a result of the day, or the fact that I wasn't charmed by the "rod phenomenon" (study of mysterious "rod shaped" objects caught on photo and tape for decades) I promptly fell asleep, waking at 9pm to get the boys off to their own beds. By that time, they had become enthralled with "Survivorman," and the fact that he fashioned the flame-blower from a hot air balloon into a defense weapon against predators on African plain. (Namely, lions.)
Now THAT'S a good day's work, as well!
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