Working Mamma

Mystery Solved

There are a lot of things I'm not good at.  Sports, for example.  Or taking a drink without spilling.  But I knew there had to be some unknown talent out there, some reason I was here.

From the bathroom this morning, where my husband was helping my daughter go potty, I heard her say, "Mama is a better wiper than you." 

Ah. 

Like, awhile ago, I have no idea how long ago, my blow drier got wet.  I don't even really remember what happened - I think maybe our frozen pipes thawed and then spurted all over it?  Oh my gosh, where did my memory go?  Anyway, I threw away the blow drier, and thought, "Oh thank god.  Now I don't even have to pretend to feel guilty about the fact that I never fix my hair." 

But, as happens occasionally, I started thinking that maybe it wouldn't be like the WORST thing in the world to fix my hair.  And, yeah, I still intend, eventually, to cut my hair and donate it.  And short hair?  I guess it needs to be blow dried or something. 

So, I asked my husband to buy me a blow drier.  And he called me from Wal-Mart.

Husband: Um... what kind of blow drier do you want?

Me: A FAST one! 

Husband: Uh... okay, then. Bye.

A few hours later he called me from home and read the package to me that included meaningless terms like "ionic technology" and "disbursing water droplets" and "FastDry," like apparently that's one word now?  But what really sold him?  Was the claim that the very special drying method, only available on this very special $19.85 blow drier, would "reduce frizz." 

Ah, I see, it's made entirely of magic and fairy dust!  Perfect choice.

Unfortunately, I have learned over many, many, many, many years and products and tears and pain, frizz will always be a part of my life.  But, the new blow drier?  It's nice anyway.

Lean Mean Weaning Machine

Before I write this, I want to put out a disclaimer that I am totally fine with extended breastfeeding and that whenever you want to wean, or if you want to let your child take the lead, good for you.  For me, I take the lead on weaning my kids.  That's just what I do.  Additionally, I'm a big nerd, as it's been bothering me lately that most of the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park were actually from the Cretaceous period.  That's completely unrelated, but kind of funny.

So, I'm in the process of weaning D. He is, as of today, down to one feeding - the bedtime feeding.  It's been a lot distraction, a lot of getting out of the house during nursing times, a lot of carrying him around because he needs the closeness, and a whole HECK of a lot of me not sitting on the couch ever.  Yikes.  And I love me some couch, believe me.  We're lucky that he's a good eater.  He really loves food.  He's also one of those kids that falls asleep in his highchair, his chubby fist full of cheese, still partially chewing the bite in his mouth. 

But, as for getting him to go to sleep at night without nursing?  I don't really know how that will happen.  I know I just did this two years ago, but I don't remember a thing about it.  I'm guessing Dad took over for awhile, and I suppose that will happen again.

What I really don't want is to mess up the bedtime routine, which is down to a science these days (more exact that what is used in Jurassic Park, I assure you).  But, I'm ready to be done.  Last child or no, I'm just ready.

Foot Problems Again

The "My foot hurts, Mama," began at about 7:00 p.m., and I knew we were in trouble.  I gave E some Tylenol to try to nip it in the bud, and that seemed to work while it worked, anyway.  She slept straight from 9:00 until 3:00 a.m.  But then...  Then, she woke up four times between 3:00 and 5:00, and was up for the day by 6:00.  Why her foot hurts, I don't know.  I rubbed it.  She asked for lotion, so I put lotion on.  It was always the same one.  And it's only been three weeks since the last foot-keeping-us-awake-all-night incident, so a growth spurt doesn't seem likely.  So... is she just messing with me? 

Is There a Stupidity Vaccine?

D had his 13-month well baby check on Friday. 

Nurse #1: Looks like 5 shots today.
Me: 5?  Really?  Which ones?
Nurse #1: (Explains.)
Me: We're going to wait on the chicken pox and we're not going to do the flu shot now (hello?).
Nurse #1: But you don't understand.  They changed it.  Now they have to have TWO chicken pox before they start school. 
Me: Um.  He's 13 months old?
Nurse #1: AND the shots need to be at least three months apart.
Me: Oooookay.  Yeah.  That still gives us like 4 years.
Nurse #1: (Sigh.)  What.  (Sigh.)  Ever. The doctor will be in.
Doctor: Why did the nurse even put the flu shot on there?  What was she thinking?
Me: ????
Nurse #2: (Repeats same spiel about the oh-so-scary three month wait and did I really understand and blah blah blahbedy blah.)
Me: Yes.  We will wait.
Nurse #2: How about we do one now and one when he starts preschool?
Me: How about not? 
Nurse #2: (Sigh.) Okay. (Stupid people.)
Nurse #1: (Returns with the three correct shots.  Proceeds to break a needle off in my son's leg because, as she screamed at me, "WHY WEREN'T YOU HOLDING HIS LEG DOWN?!?!")
Me: You didn't tell me to.
Son: (Crying.)
Nurse #: (Takes 1000 years to go get yet another shot to replace the broken-needle one.)
Me: (Angry.)
Son: (Crying.)
Nurse #1: (Administers third shot to increasingly upset baby.)
Me: (More angry.)
Nurse #1: Sorry I yelled like that.
Me: That's okay (WIMP, I AM SUCH A WIMP!).

Me: (Finding new doctor.)

Silver Lining

When your basement floods and you have to clean it out, it gives you a chance to evaluate what you have down there.  For example, is it so much necessary that we have a life-size cardboard cut out of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt from Mr.and Mrs. Smith?  Or 10,000 photocopies of magazine articles.  (Why anyone would photocopy a magazine article is quite beyond me, but whatever.)  Clothes for me, in eight different sizes, none of which fit.  Clothes for babies we'll likely never have.  800 baby contraptions that neither of our kids ever used.  Carpet - who puts carpet in a basement built in a swamp anyway?  Oh, yes, and 351 bug corpses.  Ewwww. 

Sometimes this kind of thing really provides a chance to re-evaluate the stuff.  Of course, I'd still rather have just sat on the couch and watched me some Netflix.

For Shame

My sister used to be an elementary school teacher.  So, when she offered to give us the books her three children had outgrown, of course I said "yes."  What I did not realize is the staggering number of books this would be.  Seriously.  I very much rival any school library at this point.  Every Berestain Bears book.  Every. Dang. One.  Every Dr. Seuss, even though we owned most of them already.  Every Max book.  Every American Girls book.  Approximately 9,547 books about dinosaurs.  Trucks.  Tractors.  Bugs.  Etc.  So. Many. Books. 

The only problem?  I, of course, still go to the library.  Which means my kids go to the library.  Which means I have to bring them home even more books (most of which we al.rea.dy. own) because I don't want anyone to hear me say, "You don't need any books.  Just get a video." 

Enough Time

It bothers me that I spend more time each work day at work than with my kids.  I know that's just the way it is, and I do get to see my kids a lot, considering.  It's just weird.  On the other hand, I honestly don't know if being a stay-at-home-mom full time would really work for me.  I love my job.  I really enjoy going to work.  I love my desk and my window and my cube neighbor's plants (because I kill plants and therefore do not have any).  What I really want?  Is more hours in the day.

Weather Update

Almost 8 inches of rain fell in a 24-hour period on Saturday.  We were at the house of some friends of ours, and we couldn't get home, not in our car anyway.  Our kids sat in a borrowed pick-up and stared out the windows, quietly as sheets and sheets of rain fell down.  Cars floated down the street.  The police were out in rescue boats, floating feet above the street. 

But not far from here, south from here, there were tornadoes.  My friend's parents lost their house. But again, thank God, not their lives. 

I'm definitely ready for things to settle down, but the forecast?  More rain, every day. 

After the Storm

My husband took this picture (click it to enlarge) just down the street from my house and only a block or so from where I work.  We were lucky - just wet carpet in the basement, a few lost books, and a good head start on finally getting this house organized.  Other people weren't so lucky.  Eighteen inches, two feet, three feet, more.  And even they, lucky.  No lives lost.  Thank God, today.