macgyver mom

Summertime, and the blogging is easy...

2011-06-20T07:36:00.000-05:00

Summertime...the girls sleep in and I, awakened at 6:30 by some infernal-internal clock (and The Accountant), find myself sitting at the computer wondering what else I can do while online. Time to blog again, so it seems.

I am an all or nothing sort of a person. If I do something, I do it whole hog and focus all my energies until I get it done. Problem is, blogging isn't something you can finish...instead, my interest in it just sort of petered out when school started last year (when 6:30 meant that everyone else had to be awake too). So, please forgive me my erraticism, but here I go again. Now, what do I write about?

Now what???

2011-02-07T09:14:00.000-06:00

For those of you have read the 30 some odd posts on this oh so sporadic blog of mine, you will see a trend to my writing. No, I am not talking about embarrassing The Accountant with references to the Wiggles, or embarrassing myself, for that matter, with pictures of my, um, shall we call them, inequalities?

“You are talking about parenting,” you reply, “isn’t it obvious?”

Uh….yeah…but it goes deeper than that. Many of my posts center, in some way, around an age old paradigm of childrearing that I just can’t seem to get through my thick skull. It is a paradigm that can be so nicely summed up in four words, but takes a lifetime to remember. That piece of general wisdom that sounds great in your head, but pitifully inadequate when uttered to a parent in crisis. A phrase that supposedly explains everything from breast feeding difficulties to performance in school and social graces, but doesn’t give you any answers in how to deal with the problem itself: every child is different.

Okay…I get it, my girls, regardless of their similarities, are different. Now what??? When I signed up for this parenting gig, I knew it would be difficult. But along came K, and while she challenged me and made me sit up at nights wondering when I could run away to live on a tropical island with serving drinks as my only responsibility*, she and I came to an understanding:

I am Mom, and what I say goes. You are child, and you need to listen to me and learn from me. I will try not to psychologically damage you**, and promise not to inflict any physical damage beyond an occasional spanking when all else fails.

Once K and I got that hammered out, we were golden. Today, I can give her the evil eye from 20 yards away, and she’ll immediately stop what she’s doing with a look of contrition on her face. She seems to know what I expect of her the vast majority of the time and lives up to those expectations. She takes No Thank You Bites with minimal whining. She is our EASY child.

Well, then along comes The Monkey and that agreement I had made with K is supposed to stand. Right? I expected The Monkey to watch her sister, follow her example and learn from her mistakes (yes, she does make some mistakes, believe it or not). I imagined K sneaking into The Monkey’s room at night after a bad day, to tell her that, “Yes, Mom is strict and you don’t want to cross her, but she loves you and that’s why she does it.” Isn’t that what sisters do? Apparently not…because The Monkey has devised her own agreement, one with which I have not consciously agreed, but she apparently had signed, sealed and delivered in her own little mind. And it goes a little something like this:

I am child, I am cute child, I can get away with anything if I smile. I like time-outs, I can stand spankings and I will go hungry for days if need be. I will not eat anything other than a chicken nugget, and if you ask me to, I will gag on it and throw up at the table. I will live by my own set of rules, regardless of what rules you try to put on me. You will like it.

Apparently The Monkey is as opinionated and long winded as me. Hmm.

So, I ask again, now what?? As I type this, she is sitting on the couch, television off, no toys within reach. She will sit there all morning rather than eat a bite of her cereal, cereal that she picked out at the store. She will do it and be happy. She will ruin my plans for the day because by sticking to my own set of rules, however different they may be from hers, I have inadvertently given her the power. Nice. Now what??? Serving drinks on a tropical island is sounding better and better.

*I had these fantasies, as I am sure most new mothers do, at 2 AM while trying to feed a colicky infant with severe reflux. We were living in Brazil at the time, the beach was only a few hours’ drive away….it could have happened. But, I am glad it didn’t.

**to the best of my ability

This I Believe...and I believe I have been busy lately

2011-02-05T13:00:00.000-06:00

I have succumbed to the life of the stay at home PTO soccer mom! All of my free time has been about doing for my kids as of late & my blog has therefore suffered. But I have hopes of coming back, better than before...stay tuned. Until then, here is an essay I wrote for a book club meeting late last year. We read a book of essays compiled for the NPR show, "This I Believe" and decided to write our own essays. This is mine, with editing for the sake of privacy.

This I Believe

Because I don’t practice one particular religion, I find that I believe in many other things which describe my own particular dogma, or outlook on living a good life. Having so many beliefs makes it hard to choose a central one. But, when I think on things that are a part of my core, my “belief inheritance” as it were, one particular way of being looms large. Sometimes, I fear, too large.

I believe in the humor found in the obvious. I inherited this particular trait from my father. Growing up, I believed him to be loose-lipped, quick to laugh at things others found embarrassing and always ready with a good dirty joke. Most of his jokes became more ridiculous with each successive glass of wine, and I cringed as others around him seemingly dismissed his attempts at humor or took offense at his willingness to comment on the “elephant in the room.” I was a teenage girl and he was, in my mind, the biggest elephant, looming large.

As I have gotten older, become a parent, discovered the joy of wine…I have found that my sense of humor borders on the juvenile as well. I love potty humor and can laugh for hours about something as silly as The Accountant getting accidentally racked by one of the girls. I see the humorous side of people’s attempts to make fools out of themselves, whether intentional or not. I do not laugh because I feel superior or like to see others suffer; I simply appreciate the wit (or absurdity) in what they are attempting to do or say. Often times, I will offer myself up as, perhaps, a bigger fool, by making light of the situation when others may simply snigger to themselves or cast judgments. I believe in these cases, understanding & sympathy is called for, and obvious humor is both the great equalizer and my personal way of empathizing. My sense of humor keeps me laughing and joyful when I may otherwise turn to tears or shame. It grants me perspective on the world and recognition that no one is perfect; particularly me. Most importantly, my personal elephant allows me to connect with those closest to me. I can relate to my children on a level that can be called “childlike,” and can now appreciate my father for the generous man and loyal friend that he is. Most importantly, my love of obvious humor is the reason that I truly connect with the comedian that is my husband; we will spend the rest of our lives laughing together. This I believe and am thankful for.

From http://www.kiwanja.net

Foto Friday...Cereal Killing Soccer Star

2010-10-29T13:35:00.001-05:00

I love just about every picture that my girls take. I love the angry faces, the happy faces, the silly faces, and even the shots where you can't see their faces because they refuse to pose. This month, we had two amazing pictures of K come into our hands; amazing because they are so very different.

The first one is named Cereal Killer in honor of a friend who told me, upon seeing this picture, that this is what they call in their house the "Serial Killer Smile." When she explained that to her daughter, perpetrator of said smile, the little girl's response was "Mommy, I don't kill cereal, I eat it." In this picture, K is definitely looking like she wants to hurt some cereal, or perhaps she ate too much of it at breakfast.

The next picture just took my breath away. This is how you want to see your child look EVERY DAY. Confident, happy, comfortable in her own skin. This level of comfort comes from the fact that K is, due to a fluke of birthday cut-offs, the oldest, tallest, most experienced player on her soccer team this year. She is dominating all of those 3 and 4 year old girls who are picking flowers and chasing butterflies while she drives her ball into the goal. She is en fuego and is enjoying it for all it's worth. She'd better, next year she'll be playing with the 6 year old girls and she'll be the small fish in the big pond all over again.

Happy Friday y'all (all 9 of you) and Happy Halloween!

Foto Friday...Didn't make the Christmas Card Cut

2010-10-15T12:30:00.000-05:00

But darn cute regardless...

Super cute, K's smile is great and The Monkey is being a monkey...but we found cuter. I had to crop out the bottom half of this one too, there was too much belly and underwear in the original shot.

Laughing at Daddy, our favorite silly guy...

Such a great smile!

LOVE THIS FACE!

Somewhere in the area of smumble and hug...

2010-10-06T12:28:00.000-05:00

So often, my blog posts come from a Status Update I have posted on Facebook. I have been posting a lot of updates on FB lately, but very few blog posts. What can I say, time has gotten away from me. Have I been busy trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up (and the kids grow up)? Have I been working like a mad woman on Halloween costumes? Yes, but these really haven't prevented me from blogging. What I have been doing is spending way too much time online shopping and feeding my FB addiction. That would be the real excuse.

No shopping today though. I don't deserve it. I am feeling humble and humility, while usually a prime motivator of shopping therapy, is preventing me from overindulging. Why am I feeling humble? Because I am, yet again, questioning my parenting skills. In particular, my degree of patience (or lack thereof) with one very willful two year old. When I dropped The Monkey off at CDO last week, the teachers commented on how "full of joy" she is, likening her to a ray of sunshine. So, why can't I see the sunshine? Why is MY joy so very tampered by her love for disobeying me, her need to whine about all things great and small and her decision to boycott all food that is not a chicken nugget (otherwise known as Bock-Bocks in our house). I remind myself constantly that I survived this with K and will survive this with The Monkey, but every day just presents another opportunity for frustration and failure and I.AM.JUST.TIRED of handing out time-outs and the (once occasional, now daily) spanking for completely outrageous behaviors. I find myself wishing for 3 to get here ASAP, until a friend with a crying 3 year old passed me in Target today and reminded me that 3 can be even harder than 2.

On the other hand, I am feeling a bit smug today as well. I find myself in the all too rare position of being proud of myself for making a decision that was best for me in terms of sticking to my beliefs and standards but straight-out SUCKED for me on a number of other levels. I feel somewhat vindicated that I suffered through upheaval, loss and doubt but came out the other side a happier person in the long run whose convictions were right all along.

So the question is, am I smumble? When I posted this on FB, a friend wrote back that perhaps I was Hug? I think she is onto something....hugs just may be deserved in both cases and can often make a world of difference. And, I find myself once-again appreciating that I can't get everything right all of the time. Life, emotions & interactions with others are like a teeter-totter, up and down and in between. Today I find myself somewhere in the area of smumble and hug.

Foto Friday...First Day of School!

2010-09-03T13:10:00.000-05:00

As you may have already read, K started kindergarten last week. This week, The Monkey started CDO. Both seem to be thrilled with school thus far, although we'll see how it goes next week when I take The Monkey back for her second day. She may remember how long she stayed there this week and change her tune, quickly.

Happy Labor Day weekend to you all (all 2 or 3 of you who will see this)!

K at her desk with The Accountant in the background

The Monkey has inherited her Dad's tendency to squint in all pictures taken of him (although she is doing it because she is an obstinate 2 year old)

Revisiting Fargo

2010-09-02T12:10:00.001-05:00

We were those people who loved their dog like a child. Fargo was mine before The Accountant became mine and while he tolerated The Accountant, Fargo always knew who was allowed to sleep in my bed first. When The Accountant asked me to marry him (while sitting on the end of the aforementioned bed), Fargo was right there with him, rolling his eyes in doggy annoyance at the fact that we were still awake at that late hour. When we went on our post-9/11 back up honeymoon of driving around the Southwest United States because we didn't want to deal with travel restrictions, Fargo came along with us, riding in the backseat but finagling a front seat spot close to the spent McDonalds bags every chance he got. Fargo was the original inspiration for our tendency to provide our "children" with multiple crazy nicknames, with most of his involving his fuzz, his butt, or some combination of both. Our children are still referred to by nicknames that originated with Fargo, although neither of them have a fuzzy butt, thank goodness.

When The Accountant's job moved us to Brazil, we were fortunate in having his brother and family offer to provide Fargo with a home. When we came back from Brazil a few years later, they asked us to reciprocate. This is when we became those people who used-to-love-their-dog-like-a-child-and-now-consider-him-to-be-yet-another-source-of-whining-that-Mommy-just-doesn't-have-the-patience-to-deal-with. K was just shy of 3 years old, and had only seen little yappy apartment dwelling dogs in Brazil. Fargo was, to her, a loud, pushy MONSTER and she had no love for his antics. The Monkey was barely old enough to focus on Mommy's face, but she could track that dog wherever he went...we are still not sure if she liked him or was just keeping a wary eye out. I was less than thrilled with Fargo's once endearing traits, like his hand flip move, where he'd put his nose under your hand and flip it up to the top of his head so you would pet him. His Evil Eye, the term we used for his eye bulging out of his head while he gnawed on a rawhide bone that you were so politely holding for him, grossed me out to no end. His tendency to knock K over in his exuberance to get in or out of any door you opened just plain pissed me off. So, when, at the ripe old age of 11, he started to consistently lose his bowels on our dining room rug, be unable to climb up and down the stairs in the wintertime due to arthritis and start terrifying the neighborhood kids, uncontrollably chasing them and nipping at their fingers, we made the decision to put him down. We rationalized that he had a good life and we didn't want to see his health decline, nor did we want to get sued. At that time, we decided that we would not get another dog until the kids were older and BEGGED for one.

But, pet ownership is important, it teaches kids about compassion and caring for other creatures. So, this summer, we decided to purchase an aquarium and two goldfish, one for each girl, figuring that fish would be an easy way to keep pets without adding to the whine quotient (and thus adding to Mommy's wine quotient). Less than a week later, K's goldfish went belly up. When we returned her to the pet shop, we were told that a 2.5 gallon aquarium was not sufficient for two small fish. Huh? I used to keep a goldfish in a tiny bowl and that thing lived a long happy life until she became lunch for my cat. A trip to return the fish corpse and pick up a replacement fish turned into a $20 outing, as we had to buy the remaining fish, Abby, some "toys" so she wouldn't be lonely. Now, 2 months later, Abby wafts in and out of disease, lying on the bottom of her tank one day, looking to be tomorrow's newest sewer inhabitant, and swimming around as happy as can be the next day. I have spent more money on fish antibiotics and more time on internet research, special water treatments and aquarium maintenance trying to get this $3 goldfish to live. Chances are, she'll do this for months, inspiring weekly conversations about illness and death with K, who now points out all of the dead parents in her Disney princess stories. Lovely.

The moral of this story, smaller isn't always easier. Also, death is inevitable and five year olds are surprisingly surrounded by it. And, everything, including fish ownership, is more costly and intricate than it was in the good old days. I guess we should have counted our blessings with Fargo...although it is nice to have clean carpet.

Fargo at the Grand Canyon...he enjoyed our honeymoon more than we did, but then again, all it took for him to have a good time was an occasional stray french fry.

Foto Friday...On Saturday

2010-08-28T13:41:00.000-05:00

The Accountant became an accountant after his dream of being a meteorologist met face to face with college Calculus. However, he doesn't need to ace Calculus to be our own in-home weather commentator. He has been in heaven that past few days, walking around saying "It's a dry heat," because Houston's normally muggy weather took a backseat to some relatively cool (90's), humidity free temperatures. Gotta love the man for loving the weather, its such a safe and helpful hubby hobby.

In honor of the dry heat, we spent some time outdoors this morning. For Foto Friday (on Saturday, sorry), I present Ice Cream on the back Patio:

Hope y'all have an enjoyable weekend, filled with dry heat and ice cream!

It's not the Navy, it's not the Peace Corps, it's Kindergarten*

2010-08-26T13:34:00.000-05:00

It's Not Just a Job. It's an Adventure! This Navy slogan from 1961 has come to mind a couple of times this week as we have sent K to her first days of kindergarten. We have gone from sleeping in until 7:30 every day to waking up at super-early "pre-kids career girl, head into Houston traffic and drive to work every morning" hours. We have gone from play, eat, nap, play to rush, eat, go, play, go. We have gone from a house filled with noises, both happy and ornery to one that is quite a bit quieter, both to my delight and dismay.

K's job, which was, up until now, to just be 4 and to spend each day learning and playing, has now become an adventure in navigating her new enormous (to her, at least) school, making friends and staying away from fire-ant hills. Unfortunately, she did not stay away from them on her first day. About 25 bites later, she assures me that she'll never step in one again. I am hoping that the school groundskeepers have learned that fire ants can easily be controlled and don't really belong on a Kindergarten playground...just saying.

My job, which up until now, has allowed me to be dictator-in-chief, boss of all things relating to my children, now involves learning to pass control of my little girl over to people who don't really know her and who are responsible for 20-30 other children at any given moment. Granted, I did that when she went to preschool, but preschool was a place where sweet teachers allowed you to come into the classroom and chat every morning before school started. Preschool was a place where K came skipping out to the car rider line in the afternoon with a new macaroni necklace around her neck or construction-paper-bug-hat sitting upon her head. Kindergarten seems to be all business and mildly-impaired communication, with no parents allowed in the school beyond the second day of class and snafu's that lead to my little girl riding around on the afternoon bus for an hour on the first day of school because no one bothered to tell me that the bus could not come down our street to drop her off.

This bus adventure leads me to pilfering another slogan, this one from the Peace Corps. Motherhood is truly "the toughest job you'll ever love." Monday afternoon, I spent possibly the worst 45 minutes of my life imagining K stuck on a school bus crying her eyes out (or worse; there were many, MANY bad scenarios running through my head). I frantically called the school, The Accountant for advice, and the district transportation department before finally finding out that my little girl had been taken back to the school office. I walked into that office 10 minutes later with smoke literally coming out of my ears, a bad cartoon-like temper tantrum in the making. Then, I saw K sitting on the overstuffed office couch, her little legs dangling above the floor. The anger was gone the second she looked at me, smiled, and, stifling sobs that were just below the surface, ran over to give me a hug. I just don't know if the Peace Corps can teach you how to mask your panic and anger in a moment like that, but being a Mom taught me that skill, perhaps for the first time in my life.

Now, the first week of Kindergarten is coming to a close, and we are looking forward to a weekend together as a family, recounting all of the week's adventures, both good and bad. The Accountant and I may have to set up a last minute Date Night, though. It will be a romantic evening involving the cover of dark, some black clothing and a few gallons of organic fire ant control. Perhaps Kindergarten is the Navy or the Peace Corps after all...fire ants, beware.

*I have the utmost respect for those who choose to enter both the Military and the Peace Corps. Neither myself nor my husband have ever served our country, although both of our fathers' did. I have no idea what it takes to protect our nation and those around us. Nor do I have any idea what it takes to go to a third world country as a volunteer or educator. The closest I came to that was living in a high-rise penthouse in Brazil (technically a third world country with really great restaurants) for 2 and a half years. Simply stated, there is no offense intended as I hijack your advertising slogans for my expressive needs.

Crafty post: Age shirts...

2010-08-19T14:41:00.000-05:00

The perfect storm of craftiness is going on at my house these days. It started with my desire to get back into sewing, which kicked into high gear this summer. I have been making purses and dresses and quilts like crazy these days. Thanks Moda! Then, after a scrapbooking retreat in June, I decided to purchase Creative Memories Storybook Creator software, and have fallen in love with digital scrapbooking. But, I noticed that my pictures weren't as good as they could be, so I started actually USING the Corel Paint Shop Pro program that I have had on my laptop for over a year. I sat down with the manual over a couple of evenings and began fooling around with it and realized that I could really make a difference in the artistic qualities of my photos. But then, I realized that the photo itself has to be taken with a good camera to be truly artistic, so I talked The Accountant into letting me trade our Canon point and shoot in for a DSLR (this was likely the biggest accomplishment of all...accountants like to count money, not spend it). With the combination between this camera and Paint Shop Pro, I don't think we'll ever take a bad photo again!

Apparently, all of this has gone to my head though. Now we are talking about creating our own Christmas cards this year, using pictures of the girls that we take ourselves, wearing clothing that I have made for them. shirts denoting their age, to be exact. Am I biting off more than I can chew? Perhaps...but just look at what we have so far...

I am tickled pink with these shirts...and they were super easy to make using a $2.00 t-shirt that was way too large for K to wear and about $0.50 worth of fabric. The skirt was made from a Moda Jelly Roll (Tweet Tweet), which provided me enough fabric to make skirts for both girls, two American Girl Dolls and still have a ton leftover. The Monkey (our youngest) has one with her age on it and her skirt is trimmed in red. If you are on our Christmas card list, you will see the end products in your mailbox in December.

Now, if anyone can tell me how to get both of my girls to look at the camera and smile at the same time, we'll be golden.....

Caught in Wiggle Moment...

2010-08-15T21:03:00.001-05:00

Have you ever caught your husband in a moment so sweet, so wonderful, that you just thanked your lucky stars that he was in your life? As much as I like to give The Accountant a hard time, I truthfully thank my personal stars for him fairly regularly. Tonight was just such a night.

The girls and I were on the couch watching the much anticipated, and highly lame debut of Dora's 10th birthday special. Little A, otherwise known as The Monkey (she actually refers to herself as such), had already wandered off, clearly wise to Dora and the hype (they marketed this show for a month and a half, and it turned out to be one of those lame "flash-back" episodes where you don't really get any new information). K and I were still watching, hoping for the best, when The Accountant came in for an evening session of "checking out the back 40." That is what he says every time he heads out to the back yard. I am guessing that it is his way of disguising farts or getting a quick break from the mayhem that is our house at 7:30PM. Anyhoo....he came back in right around the time where Dora did her "we did it" dance at the end of the show. K jumped up and started dancing along and The Accountant decided to join her. However, K was not content to do the usual "shake your booty" dance that is socially acceptable for grown men to perform. She wanted ballet dancing a la Greg the (former) Yellow Wiggle. And Greg the (former) Yellow Wiggle he did....much to K's delight, and my amusement. I wish I had taken a picture.

I knew I was going to marry The Accountant the first time I saw him play with his nieces. I realized tonight that we'll be married for years and years after seeing him do his Yellow Wiggle impersonation. A man like that, you just gotta hold onto.

Foto Fridays....Jr. High School Dance

2010-08-13T12:52:00.000-05:00

I want to blog, really I do, but enrolling K in kindergarten has taken it out of me. I was up tossing and turning last night dreaming of her failing the kindergarten screening process and having to spend every day of the coming school year being entertained by me and me alone.

So, since my brain is fried and I want nothing more than to sleep away today's "quiet time," I will institute a new trend, Foto Fridays. This will be chance to show off my new camera-to-be (arriving on Monday) and to show off my girls to boot.

This picture was actually taken a few weeks ago when I stumbled across this conflagration of princes and princesses on K's dresser. I was so impressed with her imagination, it looks like a Jr. high school dance, with all the ladies lined up along the wall. Prince Eric is trying to pull Prince Phillip onto the dance floor, and Li Shang is pointing out all of the hot babes to Prince Naveen.

Cute huh? Turns out that this was the handiwork of The Accountant. I guess he never got to play with dolls when he was a kid and is making up for it now! :) Oh well...still worth sharing.

Happy Friday!

Things I have learned from my girls (and Elmo)...

2010-08-06T20:49:00.000-05:00

My girls are like night and day. I'll probably never know for sure what portion of this phenomenon is due to nature and what portion due to nurture, but I know that there is a little bit of both going on. Tonight, while reading books to A in bed, I realized just how different they are and what that means to me. Thanks to Where is Elmo's Blanket.

I should preface this by explaining that Where is Elmo's Blanket (WIEB) is a "lift the flap" book, with the ultimate objective of each page is to find Elmo's missing blankie. When we read WIEB to K at ages 2-3, she would patiently go through each flap (there are about 6 per page) in an order previously demonstrated to her by yours truly, never lifting the flap that revealed Elmo's blankie until the end. She saved the best for last...she followed Mommy's example.

Today, K is a lot like me. She is mildly OCD, meaning that she likes things the way she likes them and doesn't allow a ton of room for deviation. She is quiet about the things that bother her and exuberant about the things she loves. She has a pretty good sense of delayed gratification for an almost 5 year old. She knows how to save the best for last.

When I read WIEB to A tonight, and I read the words "Where is Elmo's Blanket," she immediately went to the blanket flap. She enjoyed lifting the rest of them...don't get me wrong. But she always went straight for the answer, apparently not seeing any reason to waste time. When I think about it, this goes along with A's personality. She is all about the now and the joy and the drama. She is loud about the things that bother her and equally exuberant about the rest. And, she knows how to enjoy the best right now.

When I got done reading to A, the epiphany hit me. I have basically spent a lifetime trying to combine the major personality traits of my girls into myself. To know when to save the best for last but to know when to enjoy it right now. To know when to keep it in and when to let it all out. I am almost 40, and I struggle with this daily. I imagine that my girls will too, because they do seem to be on either end of the spectrum themselves, making it hard for them to find their own personal middle grounds. But perhaps, if I can guide them appropriately, they can learn from one another? They can do in 20 years what I haven't been able to do in 40. Is it possible?

It is likely possible if I can learn how to manage each of them appropriately. It will be hard. I imagine that I will butt heads with K because she is so much like me and will butt heads with A because she is so different. I will love each of them for the things that make me proud....but will have to learn to love each of them for the things that make my crazy too. I will have my ups and downs with both girls and their personalities over the years to come, because honestly, children do challenge your sense of self in every way possible. But, I am hoping that I can continue to appreciate their differences and similarities, both between the girls and between each of them and myself, in the years to come. If they can teach me the beauty of their ways of looking at things....perhaps they can teach one another. Is it possible...

Thanks to Elmo for some deep thoughts on a Friday night...

Writer's Workshop: Time Out

2010-08-03T13:31:00.001-05:00

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

Time out...two very powerful words. Or at least in our house they are. I have seen time outs being ignored, lambasted, idly threatened and laughed at in my interactions with other families, but at Casa W., the time out is king. Here, time outs can cause instant realignments of attitudes, momentary peacefulness or epic meltdowns...but they always seem to make their point. That point being, if you can't behave in a way deemed by Mommy to be socially acceptable, then you cannot be a part of our little family society. Well, for a few minutes at least.

From time to time, The Accountant and I will joke that if one or the other doesn't behave, then the offending party will get a time out. My question: Why the H-E-double-hockey-sticks have I not received one yet? Have I misbehaved? Yes! I have overshot my Target budget more times than I can count. I have used my "loud voice" with the children because they were both talking to me at the same time before I had my morning cup of coffee. I have had a few too many glasses of wine and said something mildly offensive in the presence of The Accountant's boss and coworkers. Isn't that enough for a time out? Apparently not...

So, I sit here at the laptop, imagining a world where Mommy gets time outs too and I dream. I dream of sitting on the couch, with no toys stuck under my butt, staring out the window at the trees in our backyard. I dream of lying on my bed with the door shut, the ceiling fan spinning above me, hearing only the sound of my breathing. I dream of sitting in my car and listening to 1st Wave on the Sirius radio, reliving the glory that is 80's alternative music, without having to listen to the competing strains of Toy Story 2. I honestly dream of sitting on the toilet and focusing on the, ahem, business at hand, without having someone ask me where Barbie's shoes are or sticking their fingers under the door in a toddler game of peek-a-boo. For (almost) 40 minutes....boo-ya!

Once my time out is done...I promise to emerge a better Mommy. I promise to be a more fiscally conscious, calm-voice-using, responsibly drinking and talking member of our own little society. But I can't promise a thing when it comes to finding Barbie shoes.

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop: Earthquake

2010-07-23T14:03:00.003-05:00

A blogger I follow often posts on stories she has written in response to Mama Kat. Mama Kat runs an online writer's workshop for bloggers. I was intrigued and signed up for her email blasts...here is my first try.

We have been living in post-20 year reunion la-la land around here. Last Saturday, my husband and I took a kid-free trip to sunny California and met up with friends, acquaintances and former nemeses for a night of reminiscing, drinking and just plain stupidity. One topic that arose was my high school era connections with the marching band. As my husband likes to put it, and he certainly ‘put it’ a lot last weekend, I was a band geek. Well, actually, I was a flag girl, one step sideways (???, not really up or down) from being a band geek. We called ourselves the Colorguard, because that just sounded better, but really we were the chess club of the performance teams at our school. I was apparently the coolest girl on the Colorguard, or so one particularly well-regarded young man told me at a Fall dance on the Quad back in 1989, as we spun around slowly to some long forgotten Madonna song. Alas, that burgeoning romance wasn’t meant to be; someone spit their gum up into the air during the slow dance and it landed in my hair just as the song ended. I ran quickly to the girl’s bathroom, mortified to look that young man in the eye again, my brush with coolness over.

Cool I may not have been, but beautiful, I could pull off sometimes. Or, at least Joe Dimaggio thought so. It was October 17^th, 1989, and I stood in tunnel under Candlestick Park, along with about 15 other girls dressed in green polyester bodysuits embellished with gold sequins. We were holding an enormous American flag which we were charged with marching out onto the field and displaying for the National Anthem. It was game 3 of the World Series and Mr. Dimaggio was being transported into the stadium in a golf cart when he commented on our garb. “What a nice man,” I thought, as he drove by. Only later did I find out who he was. Of course, with the confusion that ensued moments later, none of us really knew what was going on with anything. At 5:04 PM, the Loma Prieta earthquake began. That earthquake resulted in the deaths of over 60 people, countless injuries, the collapse of two significant roadways in the San Francisco Bay Area and the destruction of numerous homes and buildings. The earthquake reportedly lasted about 10-15 seconds, but I remember it seeming like an eternity.

Growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area, I had been through countless earthquakes before. But this was the first one that I spent on the underside of a large and somewhat antiquated (at least it is considered as such these days) sports stadium. Candlestick had light poles interspersed around the edge of the stadium, extending probably 30 feet into the air from the top of the structure, with enormous lights stretched out across 3 pole clusters. I remember these poles being painted orange; of course, my memory could be wrong. What I will never forget is the sight of these poles swaying along with the shaking of the earth, thinking how strange it was for them to be moving in such a way. As often happens when surprised by something, my brain didn’t fully register that we had experienced an earthquake until it was ending. By then, I was headed out from under the stadium and into the surrounding parking lots, where myself and my fellow Colorguard officers gathered up our team and watched, waited and fretted in true teenage girl fashion.

For the next hour, we stood in Candlestick’s parking lot and looked out over the partial view of the city, commenting on plumes of smoke rising into the air, wondering just how bad the earthquake was. We hadn’t gotten the full picture of the disaster by that point, and didn’t fully comprehend what we had experienced until we got home to our South Bay area high school some 8 hours later. Panic apparently caused the roadways to fill up quickly and our normally 1 to 2 hour ride home quickly turned into an all night experience. There was a large orange harvest moon that night, something I hadn’t ever seen before, and I remember wondering silently to myself if the world was somehow ending while we sat on that bus.

End it did not, for that I am thankful. However, continued taunts about being a band geek from my husband may result in his lifespan being shortened, or at least being made somewhat more miserable of an experience. It is probably just sour grapes on his part, he was a Varsity Basketball player in high school, they never got performances by the full band, drill team and Colorguard at their halftime shows. And, the cool guy of the fateful Madonna dance, yes, he was at my reunion and we said our hellos. Twenty years later, I am much cooler and still beautiful (or so my husband says), and I haven’t had gum in my hair since that dance. He had to have been impressed.

Post script: I wrote the above about being much cooler 20 years later, completely forgetting about the picture I posted yesterday. Nevermind.

Things that I can thank my kids for...

2010-07-22T13:43:00.000-05:00

I can probably add a "Part 1" to the title, because I imagine that there will be a lot of things I'll come up with under this category as my blogging adventure goes on. For now, though, this one will be short, because a picture speaks a thousand words. Before the picture and its preceding explanation, I should warn my readers (all 3 of you) that if you are uncomfortable discussing female anatomy, my anatomy specifically, skip this blog post. You have been warned.

I noticed after having K that there was some, ahem....asymmetry going on, physically speaking. I remember asking my Ob/Gyn about it at a follow up appointment and her advice was less than helpful, considering that both of my girls refused to get their sustenance the "natural" way. She basically said to feed my next child from the larger side more often...that will help balance things out. I guess since A didn't go the nursing route either, things just got worse. Of course, I didn't realize just how much worse it was until I saw this lovely picture that a former classmate posted on Facebook post-reunion.

Hmmm...moral of that story? All people taking a picture with me must stand on my left side from here on out. Ugh!

TMI....sorry, but I figured that we could all use a laugh :)....

The Reunion Gift

2010-07-20T14:44:00.003-05:00

Twenty year reunions...they inspire so many different emotions, insecurities, hairstyle changes, trips to the gym. Mine, which happened this past weekend, inspired me to cut my hair for the first time in almost a year and to go a little heavy-handed on the last set of highlights. And yes, I must admit, I spent most of my time at they gym these past few months repeating the mantra "18 again, 18 again." But I would have been at the gym already, I swear....K had swim class and I had nothing better to do.

At a deeper level, they may inspire you to take stock of your life...asking questions such as "Am I where I thought I would be?" and "Will people still think of me as the geek from 20 years ago?" Instead of tormenting myself, I went into my reunion remembering the words of Debi, played by Minnie Driver in Grosse Pointe Blank (one of my favorite John Cusack movies, BTW, and dedicated primarily to the topic of the main character's 10 year reunion)..."Everybody's coming back to take stock of their lives. You know what I say, leave your livestock alone." So off I went to sunny California, The Accountant in tow, livestock left alone and a desire to find out about the lives of my long-lost classmates set as my primary objective.

Didi I meet my primary objective? No. I made every effort to talk to folks, ask questions, answer questions and gracefully move on, with hopes that I would make new connections or rebuild old ones. But as the night wore on, I learned my first lesson of the evening, namely, the more things change, the more they stay the same. I speak, to some extent, of the attendees at my reunion. As I watched the room and its occupants mill about and begin their preliminary "catching up," I could see that most folks seemed to have a similar initial approach in mind as I did. However, as the night went on and the drink set in, the scene reminded me startlingly of a high school dance. People seemed to partition themselves into the roles they played in school, hanging out with those they knew way back when, either in the center of the room (and often the center of attention), dancing along in the outer rings or, standing off to the side watching it all. Rather surprisingly, I found myself falling into the latter group, and I therefore must apply my first lesson learned to myself too. After years of developing my degree of sociability and losing my fear of talking to unknown people, I found that I preferred to spend time with those I was closest to and to stand on the outside looking in. Maybe its because The Accountant doesn't dance, but at least part of it was a feeling of comfort that came from being in the role I so often took in high school. I was essentially the same, in that respect, despite years of change.

Another lesson learned this weekend was one of sleep and hydration, i.e. if you don't sleep and you don't drink water you will look like you are pushing 40, and no amount of time at the gym is going to change that. This is why I relegated my 20s and 30s to partying and staying up late. This is why my idea of a party these days is a bottle of wine on the back porch with The Accountant. This is why we aren't having any more children. I love sleep, I crave sleep, I need sleep. Sleep is my friend, water is my friend. Wrinkles are bad.

The last lesson learned this weekend, and perhaps the most important one, is that the people that truly matter in your life are the ones that you will find yourself connecting with time and again, despite distance or age or sociability. And these are the folks that won't care if you have wrinkles or if you haven't seen the inside of a gym since 1999. I was lucky to run into these people before the reunion ever began, and was fortunate to get the time with them that I craved. The most important connection I made on the night of the reunion was, however, the one that I have with The Accountant, and I see him every day. Having him there to know some of the people I know and to hear the stories that have never had a chance to be told was priceless. Having a weekend with him without the girls was....well...unheard of before Saturday. When all was said and done and the reunion was over, I was glad that I spent a good portion of the evening at The Accountant's side, not dancing, not catching up, just watching the whole crazy night spin around us. Because having the luxury of time to get to know each other better, even after 10+ years together, was a gift...a 20th reunion gift. Thanks HHS, we appreciate it.

This is why The Accountant and I don't dance (i.e. the "white man's overbite")....and this guy is actually a better dancer.

On Embrace Your Geekness Day and 20 year reunions...

2010-07-13T14:31:00.000-05:00

Today, July 13th, is "Embrace Your Geekness Day." Apparently, it is the day in which we can all be proud of our geeky natures since it is "great to be so brilliant and gifted." While I may have been brilliant at one time (pre-kids), and my gifts these days are overshadowed by my tendency to erode into Mommy-Monster moments....I know that my inner-geek is still alive and well. And what better time to celebrate that geek than the weekend before my 20 year high-school reunion....since high-school was the pinnacle of my geekdom.

So, in honor of Embrace Your Geekness Day and my impending reunion, here is my top ten list (in no particular order) of Aimee's geeky pleasures...

1. Singing and dancing (somewhat spastically) in front of the mirror when I am really amped up about something. I think this joy manifests itself subversively in my LOVE for the TV show Glee. Where else can you get your happy Journey high mixed with a little "Bust a Move."

2. My continued love for, as The Accountant (i.e. my husband, L) refers to them, "Teenage Vampire Sex Novels." I keep trying to tell him that there is no real sex in the Twilight novels, but he still calls them that. I call them my "remembering the thrill of first love" escape....but don't tell him that.

3. Being able to fix just about anything when I set my mind to it. This is made even more enjoyable when it is something that The Accountant has tried to fix and cannot. A perfect example of this would be when I repaired a broken sprinkler head in our backyard, after The Accountant had tried twice to fix it, causing repeated damage to the PVC pipe it was attached to. I love my husband, but I love "winning" maybe just a little more (a la Monica in friends....yep, that would be me). Again, don't tell him that.

4. Reading instructions. They exist for a reason, to make your life easier. Sit down, read them, know them, love them, get things done right. Enough said.

5. Finding bargains online...I never buy anything anymore unless I have researched its cost online for HOURS prior to purchase. Does that make me a productive mother and maintainer of our household? No. Does it make me feel like I just got something for nothing? Yes, and that is a darn good feeling.

6. Facebook. No explanation needed.

7. Blogging. This is a new geeky pleasure, and one which I hope will lead to a better understanding of how to write as I still hold onto a dream of being an author someday. That dream was planted in my head by my high school creative writing teacher, Larry Vosovic, quite possibly one of my favorite geeks of all time and quite possibly one of the attendees at my reunion on Saturday (not that he'll remember who I am).

8. Crafting, particularly scrapbooking, quilting and sewing. It is entirely possible that I was the only girl at my Silicon Valley area high school to wear a dress to my Senior year Winter Formal that I had made myself. That was actually about 1/4 part geekiness and 3/4 part poverty...but necessity is the mother of invention.

9. Using obscure quotes, words or phrases (as you can see from number 8). I love words, some words, however unused they may be in day to day conversation, are so perfectly suited to the concept you want to express that it would be a shame not to use them. Of course, this only works if the person you are talking to knows what that word (or phrase) means. The Accountant claims that I make most of my phrases up, but apparently he just wasn't paying attention when someone was trying to get his goat. He keeps telling me that he doesn't own a goat.

10. My girls...watching them play, hearing them talk (most of the time), seeing them smile...the ultimate geeky pleasure, particularly when The Accountant is around to share it all with me.

Hope y'all get to celebrate Embrace your Geekess Day in whatever way makes you feel proud to be a geek. As much as I hated being that strange girl growing up, I am pretty darn happy with who I am now. I don't think I'd have it any other way. And who knows, after spending the weekend around a bunch of folks I haven't seen since I was 17 and working at McDonalds, I may find that they all felt the same way about themselves one time or another.

The Accountant swears that he wasn't a geek in high school...but then why did his parents give him Napoleon Dynamite on DVD for his birthday writing on the card "this movie reminded us of you." Hmmmm.......guess we'll have to go to his 20th HS reunion so I can see for myself (and to get his goat).

Jelly Roll Love...

2010-07-11T15:16:00.000-05:00

And I aint talking about the dessert....

I've been out of quilting for awhile, but when I came back to it a few weeks ago, I found Moda. When I found Moda, I found Jelly Rolls, a fantastic way to try a little bit of every Moda fabric line I love, and I found Moda Bake Shop, a source of fantastic inspiration.

From one Jelly Roll (Freebird by Moda), a few extra yards of fabric and some notions I had in my stash, I was able to make the following:

This is a purse made using the Hushabye Tote pattern from Moda Bake Shop.

This bag is of my own creation, inspired by the Amy Butler Weekender Bag

This is a quilt of my own creation, inspired by the Freebird Interpretations Quilt on Moda Bake Shop. I called it Obrigadao which roughly translates to "much thanks" in Brazilian Portuguese. This was a gift for friends visiting from Brazil.

And I still had enough fabric left over for a tote inspired by one I saw in the local quilt shop, as designed by Bunny Hill Designs. Pictures to follow...

Needless to say, I love Jelly Rolls, they are keeping me busy and happily creative. Thank you Moda!

I laugh, because if I didn't, I'd probably cry...

2010-07-08T13:07:00.002-05:00

I have a half-written post on highlighting your hair at home waiting to be finished. I had every intention of posting it here today....but then today happened.

My oh so lovely day actually started out as a lovely day, barring the rain. Tropical depression #2 (not big enough for a big-girl name, apparently), kicked in last night, and everything around here is soaked. But rain makes for nice cozy mornings at home, and the girls and I snuggled, had breakfast and then they had baths. We decided to brave the rain and headed out to run errands with minimal fussing or theatrics (and no alarm stress, thank goodness). The day took a small turn for the worse when the sewing machine repair shop we visited told me that it would cost $125+ to service my Brother that I paid $350 for less than a year ago. But, I was trying to look at the bright side of things, hoping I could convince L that it would make more sense to buy a nicer, more reliable machine (i.e. more expensive) than to spend the money repairing this one...yeah, I know, good luck with that rationale. I pondered my argument while the girls happily made strange noises at one another in the backseat (a favorite car-ride pastime), seemingly forgetting that Mommy hadn't turned the car DVD players back on...score!!!

We pulled into the HEB parking lot; with candy cane bribes in my purse and a positive outlook for grocery shopping, we unloaded from the car, and started to head into the store. We have friends visiting from Brazil coming over for lunch tomorrow, and I was looking forward to loading up on "adult" food at the HEB, for once. When my car alarm wouldn't activate, I realized that the sliding passenger door on the BBB (Big Black Bus, i.e. my mom-van) wouldn't close. I splashed through the puddle surrounding the car and tried to close it manually....no luck. My first thought was to just leave the door open, get my shopping done, and hope that the car was there when we got back. Hell, its not every day I get to buy and prepare something other than chicken nuggets, I wanted my shopping trip! But, reason set in, and I realized that leaving the car door open less than 2 minutes after explaining the concept of grand theft auto to my 4-year-old would be a pretty irresponsible move.

Truthfully, I wish I could have run into the HEB and never looked back. I kind of wish someone had stolen the BBB...because I spent the next 1/2 an hour standing in a puddle, trying to yank the door closed, calling Hyundai service and arranging for a tow-truck all while wrangling two little girls who think it's fun to bounce on the 3rd row bench while I am trying to remove car seats. When the thunder started up again and it looked like it was going to pour at any minute, I did what any responsible parent would to...drove home al-fresco...i.e. with the door open, praying for NO rain.

I have to say, I did have some responsible parenting moments in this whole debacle. I did think to put the girls in the 3rd row so they wouldn't look like they had ridden the log-ride (plus mud) repeatedly by the time they got home. And I did very little yelling when they insisted on having my full attention while I was on the phone with the dealer explaining my woes. I did, however, cave on my rule about not making K give up a toy just because A wants it...I had to hold onto every scrap of sanity I had, and preventing unnecessary crying was the best way to do it. And really, it was a win-win situation, because K got a super-duper candy cane lollipop out of the deal "for being such a big helper." I know, I can't win them all.

The best part of this ordeal; seeing K step up as a responsible big sister (even if it was bribe induced). She took care of her baby sister in the back seat when Mommy couldn't hand her a toy or otherwise console her. And if you are wondering when I finally laughed at the whole situation....it was when my neighbor across the street backed out of his driveway and right into the tow truck that was in mine. He never once acknowledged that I was standing there while talking to the tow-truck driver. Maybe it was the smirk on my face that made me invisible to him...he had to be just so embarrassed. I shouldn't laugh at the misfortune at others, I know....but it sure made me feel better to know that I wasn't the only unfortunate one that day.

Post script...as I finish writing this, approximately 1 hour after the tow truck driver left my house, I get a call from the Hyundai dealer. A "clip" was loose on the door motor. It took them 15 minutes to fix something that will likely take 2 hours out of my day and essentially ruined my happy grocery shopping trip. Now I am crying...

Perfection

2010-07-06T14:12:00.002-05:00

Let me start by saying that I am eternally grateful that we have an alarm system in our house. We live in NE Houston, just a hop, skip and jump over the railroad tracks from some pretty rough neighborhoods (and I know my rough neighborhoods, I used to work in half of the free city clinics in Houston). That being said, I hate timers that beep or screech at you. Remember that game Perfection, where you had to put little plastic shapes into their proper holes before the entire game-board would pop up at you, throwing all of your well-placed pieces back into your face? That game apparently scarred me for life because I live in fear of our house alarm going off before I can disarm it…as if the whole house would blow up in my face if I didn’t reach it in time.

Today, we went out and bought an aquarium and two goldfish…our first foray into pet ownership since Fargo joined the cast of All Dogs Go to Heaven. I stopped for lunch on the way home so I could get the girls quickly eating and out of my hair long enough to get the aquarium out of the car and into the kitchen. I had a smooth journey from car to the kitchen table in my sights, and even had each girl carrying a shopping bag on her arm, to help lighten my load and make reaching the alarm easier. I carried the fish, a bag full of fishy supplies and one Happy Meal box, along with my purse...that was it, totally manageable.

Trouble started as I opened the door from the garage to the kitchen. Obstacle 1 arose when K, out of excitement to open up a box of dollhouse furniture we bought at Toys R’ Us, decided to stop short in front of the door and do a little happy dance. I tersely asked her move out of my way, alarm stress already apparent in my voice, and dodged around her to quickly but carefully place the bag of fish on the kitchen counter. Then came Obstacle 2; the bag of fish decided to take a flying leap off of the counter as I tried to get around the door and to the alarm keypad. I caught it in time to prevent fishy head trauma and set it upright on the kitchen table, my sights set on my alarm objective. Obstacles 3 and 4 arose simultaneously as K and A both decided to plant themselves on either sides of the door, making it difficult for me to maneuver around it and get to the keypad. A apparently decided that her shoes had to come off right then and there and K, happy dance apparently over, glowered at me demanding to know where she should put the Toys R’ Us bags. Right in front of Mommy’s feet, sweetie, so I can trip over them, of course….or that’s what she thought. I jumped over A, barked a yet terser request at K to move the toys or I would remove them permanently and finally made it to the keypad, objective complete.

There is a time and a place for happy dances...

this is neither.

As I write this, I remember it feeling like it took FOREVER to get that alarm off. Of course, all of this likely happened in the course of 20 seconds. So, let’s see, in 20 seconds I managed to snap at K twice giving her yet more fodder for her future therapy sessions, almost give our new fish concussions, set A off onto a crying jag because I wouldn’t take her shoes off tout de suite and cause my blood pressure to rise into margarita zone levels. Hmmm…all in all, I would call it a successful outing. Just imagine how much worse it would have been if we had decided to get a puppy.

Spinning gold from straw...

2010-07-01T13:15:00.002-05:00

I have never been one to put things in my daughter's hair until they actually had hair. It probably comes from working in pediatric genetics for so long. Our geneticists followed quite a few little girls with brain malformations or other disorders that caused them to have teeny-tiny heads. Inevitably, these girls would come in with headbands wrapped around their teeny-tiny heads, sprouting some sort of flower or bow that pretty much overwhelmed their small faces. I just felt like the parents were overcompensating somehow, or possibly even making their conditions worse. I wanted to scream "take that thing off of that poor child and let her head grow." Insensitive, perhaps, but I have always called those things "brain-smushers." I know that I am in the minority on this one though. Every where I go, I see little girls with brain-smushers and the accompanying ginormous flower. A friend of mine sells about $600 worth of these things a month in a local boutique...but I have never spent a dime on these things.

A is two now, and still lacking in the hair department. Her sister was the same way, although I think she had a bit more by this age. A does have a mullet that Billy Ray Cyrus would be jealous of, but there isn't much you can do with a little girl mullet other than trim it and try to get it in line with the rest of her sparse head of hair. This week, however, A walked up to me with a brush in hand and said "bootiful" after seeing me put her sister's hair up in ponytails. K is always "bootiful" after I brush her hair, I guess A wanted me to do the same. So, out came the teeny-tiny rubber bands, hairspray, shellac...you name it, I used it, and here is the result.

I feel like Rumpelstiltskin...helping A make gold out of straw...not much there to work with, but "bootiful" nonetheless. Of course, I didn't exact her firstborn child out of the deal...I am praying we won't have to raise our grandchildren. Of course, as crazy as this little one is, you never know...

Limp bizkits, Mommy-Monsters and privileges...

2010-06-25T14:55:00.001-05:00

K did the jellyfish today, otherwise known in our house as going "limp-bizkit." She was given the dreaded time-out during the last five minutes of our play date this morning, and since she is almost 5...there went the remainder of her sprinkler-time with friends. She was NOT HAPPY. I was NOT HAPPY.

Let's just clarify right now that K takes after her dad, tall, skinny & heavy (and takes after me too, moody)! When she decides that she has no will to live, and therefore has no bones or muscles to support herself with, I go into panic mode because, how in the heck am I going to get a soaking wet 40 pound jellyfish into the car (and we were driving a dealer loaner this morning to boot) and keep an eye on little A, my fearless wonder who would likely be running down West Lake Houston faster than I could say "toddler pancake."

So, combine NOT HAPPY and panic mode and what did I get? The Mommy-Monster, the term we like to use to describe Mommy when I literally have steam coming out of my ears. The little voice in the back of my head was telling me to keep my cool, but the Mommy-Monster was trying her best to get K to grow some bones, and quick. I tried to prop-her up, I tried to get her to look me in the eye and focus on my requests, I tried to bribe her with chicken nuggets. The nuggets worked long enough for me to get her into some dry clothes, but by the time we hit the rental car, she was dangling from my hand like an extra full Hefty bag. And while some may rationalize the Mommy-Monster's appearance by saying, "Don't worry, you probably only felt that way, I am sure it wasn't that bad," you have to wonder how bad it really was when all of the other mothers at the play date quickly gathered their children and the room (or patio, in this case) went quiet. Oops...

We all have Mommy-Monsters lurking inside of us, I know that. I also know that I am not the most patient person in the world and that my Monster likes to come out of hiding a little more than I would prefer. Fortunately, I am finding that as long as the hormonal stars are aligned, I am usually able to keep my cool. But when I don't, well, just don't even think about going limp-bizkit on me, because clearly, that is a recipe for losing your chicken nugget privilege.

I was hoping I could go a little limp-bizkit myself this evening with the assistance of a margarita (or 3) at my favorite Mexican food restaurant tonight...but alas, it has closed for some mysterious "renovations." What is a Mommy-Monster supposed to do? I guess I have lost my margarita privilege.

This is your mommy when her margarita privileges have been revoked...

All children are not created equal...

2010-06-22T20:36:00.000-05:00

I love my children, I love their similarities, I love their differences, I love their smiles and I even love their tears. What I do not love is having to re-learn how to handle A once I already knew what worked with K. I am not the most patient person, and once I feel like something works for me, I like to stick with it, getting frustrated if it doesn't. Beyond that, I don't like producing inequalities between my girls for the sake of keeping myself sane, read on...

K has generally been an easy to raise child. She responded well to time-outs and "1-2-3 Magic," she generally minds us and listens to what she is told. She is a happy child who respect authority because she was raised with a fairly strict hand and a clear set of guidelines. Consistency is key with her and she thrives because of it.

A has generally been a more challenging child, in terms of obedience. She thinks time-outs are fun and uses the time to try to knock over anything that is in her reach from the time-out chair. She flat-out doesn't "get" the concept of 1-2-3 and she usually grins at us when we tell her "no," going quickly back to whatever it was she was doing until forcibly removed. Consistency seems to make her even more stubborn, but she is still a good kid, generally listening to what we say when it matters and she has a contagious sort of joy about her.

Most people would probably tell me that I have to change the way I handle things for A, that perhaps she will learn better with a different set of rules or techniques. But is that fair to K? For example, if I let A walk away from the dinner table without taking a "no-thank-you-bite," what message am I giving to K, who generally understood the concept of such bites at a similar age and who still has to be encouraged to take them? If I tell K that A isn't misbehaving but that she just doesn't understand what she is doing because she is younger, does that negate everything I did with K when she was the same age and essentially let A off of the hook because she is the baby. I have seen so many friends "baby" their youngest and have seen the resentment or attention-getting it causes in the older siblings. I don't want to do that with my girls; resentment between sisters can be bad enough without Mom giving one preferential treatment over the other because of age.

So, what do I do and how do I maintain my sanity doing it? Do I keep holding the course, hoping that sooner or later, A will cave to my way of doing things? Or do I respect her extreme sense of independence and allow her a little wiggle room, knowing that it will cause discrepancies in how I treat her versus K. I don't expect cookie-cutter kids, but I think I could use a little help.....

A new twist on an old craft...

2010-06-18T14:54:00.000-05:00

Two weekends ago, I went to a scrapbooking retreat. It was heaven, great food, good company and a weekend of scrapbooking from 8 am to midnight. One of the conversations held early in the weekend was over the topic of "what special thing did you do for your husband for Father's Day." The conversation centered around thoughtful gifts, such as handmade cards, a couples cooking class, etcetera, etcetera. Doh! I hadn't done anything too extravagant...we are practical gifters, giving each other things that we need or have expressed an interest in. L needs an external thermostat for his beer fermenting freezer, a thermostat he will get!

But, it occurred to me that extravagant and meaningful are two different things, and I knew that this would give me an opportunity to get the girls involved in some crafting, which is hard to do with a 2 year old in the mix. So, remembering back to my grade school days, I opted to do some thumbprint art. I had each girl make thumbprints on a piece of paper. K decided to do hers next to one another so that we could later turn them into butterflies. A was just happy to be involved, no rhyme or reason to her printing. I had also cut out a giant heart using my Cricut, and went ahead and threw two of my thumbprints into the mix, making a (somewhat) concentric heart inside of it.

After the girls went to their respective quiet times, I got out my scrapbooking stuff and went to work. I drew butterflies around K's prints and dragonflies out of A's prints (which are appropriate since K has butterflies hanging from the ceiling of her room, and A has a dragonfly mobile). Then I put some double sided sticky foam on the backs of each bug, and begin sticking them to a 12x12 piece of cardstock. A few "manly" flowers (or at least I hope he considers them manly) were cut out of some paper I had, and a few other embellishments were added and we were done. Instant meaningful father's day gift that we all had a hand in. I'll likely head to Michaels this weekend and get a frame for it, hopefully he can put it up at work. Now I don't feel so practical :).

Here it is, I had to use a photostitcher to put the image together since my scanner doesn't do 12 x 12, so it looks a little off-kilter, but you get the gist.

Been busy...

2010-06-18T07:32:00.002-05:00

So, it has been ages since I have posted. Amazingly, having the girls in summer camp for 6 out of the past 14 days has made my life more hectic than normal. But, despite the back to back doctors appointments, haircuts and car maintenance debacles, I have managed to keep my promise to myself to be "crafty" through it all.

I would love to be one of those moms who sells stuff on Etsy and blogs tutorials about my crafts. But, I am a fast-sewer, I love to race through my projects so I can enjoy them and the sense of accomplishment they bring. So, despite making about 5 or 6 different things in the past month and a half, I have no documentation to show for it!

However, I don't work alone...my creativity is usually inspired by others. Perhaps I can rely on them to aid me in my dreams to post tutorials. Voila, here is proof of my "macgyver mom-ness," a purse...made by me and LOVED by me, and links leading you to the instructions you need to make one yourself, if so desired!

The fabric collection, which I am absolutely in love with is by Moda, and is called Freebird. The colors are fantastic and I particularly love the main exterior panel fabrics (Outdoor Geranium) with the varied colors, butterflies and birds on it. The directions to make the tote is on my new favorite source for sewing inspiration, Moda Bake Shop. And lastly, the instructions for the RIDICULOUSLY easy zippered pocket can be found at Sew Mama Sew.

So there you have it, a tutorial on how to find the tutorials needed to make this awesome purse! I am thinking that Macgyver would have been proud.

Play nice...

2010-05-25T09:30:00.000-05:00

This is going to be a short one. Call it a rant, call it a wake up call, call me crazy...but I think that moms need to learn to be nicer to one another. I sometimes think that moms look at parenting as a competitive sport. You are in a race to see who gets pregnant first, a competition to see whose kid walks/talks/shares/plays concert piano first, a never ending compare/contrast saga of parenting skills. No wonder it's all so stressful. So we join mom's groups and reach out to make friends, just to find ourselves being judged and analyzed all over again. It's enough to drive a mom to drink. Sangria anyone?

Why can't we all just get along? Is parenting such an isolating journey, that we must look to others to augment our self confidence? Is little Billy really going to be THAT much smarter than his friends because he walked at 11 months versus 15 months? Do we really need to judge one another and criticize the skills of our fellow parents? Everyone parents in the way that they find works best for themselves and their children and while some are truly incompetent (leave that to CPS to handle, your judgments aren't going to make a difference here)...most of us are chugging along to the best of our abilities and don't really need commentary. Perhaps the worst part of it all is that the commentary is rarely shared in a constructive way, it often turns into snide comments, nasty looks or rumor mongering. Aren't those some of the things we want our children to recognize as "not nice."

Maybe it is time for all of us to play nice? I know that I have done my fair share of all of the above...but I am determined to mirror responsible social skills to my girls. Here is a good place to start.

Silver linings...

2010-05-13T14:28:00.001-05:00

I loved teaching, which is funny for me to say now, because every time I drop K off at her preschool, I look at her teachers in awe and say to myself "There is no way I would have the patience to work with 16 preschoolers everyday." But I did...I loved teaching, and miss having that experience as a part of my daily life.

In my former, pre-mommy life, I was a genetic counselor. I worked at a large medical institution here in Houston and spent most days counseling patients, coordinating genetic research and guiding graduate students on the finer points of genetic counseling. Working with the students was definitely the most rewarding aspect of my job. I enjoyed watching them grow from frightened first years with limited knowledge of genetics and the human psyche to confident graduates seeking to find their place in the genomic era. I still hear from my students occasionally (thanks S) and get great joy from knowing that some little skill that they learned from me has helped them in their lives, both personal and professional.

This week, I found a way to teach again, despite being in "early-retirement." I have written a story about a very painful and difficult episode in our recent life history and used it as a way to educate my former colleagues about what some of their patients may be feeling. For those of you who know me well, you will have already heard the story about which I write. For those of you who don't, I hope that you can appreciate the difficulty of the situation we found ourselves in and, despite your political or religious beliefs, see the beauty of the silver lining that this particular cloud gave us. This cloud actually gave us two silver linings...one being the experience itself and what it taught me, the other being our second daughter.

To read the story, please go to: The DNA Exchange

Sangria!

2010-05-12T12:41:00.000-05:00

What is there NOT to love about sangria? It is easy to make, involves cheap ingredients (the nastier the wine, the better the sangria), is fantastic by itself or added to a frozen margarita and gives you a serving of fruit to boot! I have been getting a few requests for my favorite sangria recipe these days, so I thought I would post it here. It was adapted from a recipe that I found in Texas: The Beautiful Cookbook. I use ginger ale (diet is fine if you want to cut SOME of the calories) versus club soda, because I like my sangria to be sweet.

Before I list the recipe, I have to give a shout-out for the cookbook mentioned above. L got this book from the "Wives Club" at his employer's corporate headquarters many moons ago. This is my absolute favorite series of cookbooks (The Beautiful Cookbook series), but many of them are sadly out-of-print. We own the Thailand one as well and cook from both books a few times a month. If you are looking for cookbooks with great recipes and fantastic pictures, this series is for you.

Here it is:

1 orange, halved and sliced
1 lemon, halved and sliced
1 apple, cored and sliced
1/4 cup brandy
1/4 cup sugar
1 bottle (750 ml) cheap, dry red wine

Combine the above ingredients and allow to chill. Don't prepare it too far in advance, however, or some of the bitterness from the orange/lemon peels will leach into the wine (1 -2 hours is fine). Just prior to serving, add ginger ale to taste (I usually add about 3 cans/36 oz) and serve over ice.

Cheers!

My child, myself?

2010-05-06T13:43:00.002-05:00

Last week, I was sitting in a friend's play room discussing child rearing and child discipline. Isn't this what all play dates boil down to, letting the little ones run around and play while we mommies get a little insight from one another? Well...really only the good ones do, the ones where you can have an adult conversation because your kids are playing nicely and allowing you to pay attention to something other than themselves. Too bad that so rarely happens, but on this occasion, it happened long enough for some "deeper" conversation. So, we were discussing discipline and my friend brought up the topic of worrying about what others think of our kids' behaviors. She felt that in many cases, we tend to discipline our kids because we want them to reflect well on our skills as parents. Her point, if I understood it correctly (by this part of the conversation, A was trying to beat my friend's 9 month old over the head with a maraca, so my attention to details was limited), is that we shouldn't rush to discipline based on what others think, but should instead discipline based on the child's unique needs and temperament.

This conversation got me thinking. Have I been taking the wrong approach to discipline with my girls? Our primary goals in child raising have always been to teach our girls to 1) respect others, including their bodies (i.e. no hitting, pinching, etcetera) and their things...meaning no dancing on the neighbors couch; 2) to be flexible and adaptable to change; and 3) to be confident enough in themselves to take appropriate risks and to speak their mind (versus throwing temper tantrums). Granted, these are big requests for a 2 year old and A is no where near achieving these goals, but K has done very well and is growing into a fairly flexible, somewhat confident (need to work on that one a bit more), VERY respectful little girl. But as I look at these goals and think about the times I have enforced rules that fall along these lines, I wonder, have I been disciplining towards our goals, or disciplining towards approval from others? Often times, I do worry about the impact that the girls' behaviors will have on others in the immediate vicinity. And sometimes, I find myself disciplining in concordance with feedback I have gotten from family and friends about my children and their actions. Am I teaching my girls that Mommy worries more about how their behavior impacts others than about how their behavior impacts themselves? Am I doing it all so I can look better as a mother?

I think I got my answer yesterday afternoon, when I took the girls to the neighborhood pool. Taking the girls to the pool by myself is stressful, to say the least. K is still learning how to swim unassisted, and wears floaties whenever she cannot have an adult dedicated to watching her. A wasn't able to walk the last time we went to the pool, much less swim, and she is 2 years old now, and the epitome of a fearless toddler wanting her independence. If I took my eyes off of her for a minute, she'd be jumping into the deep-end. So, I gave K three rules to follow at the pool: 1) always listen to Mommy; 2) no running and; 3) be sure you can always see Mommy and I can always see you. K, as usual, did very well with most of the rules, but her excitement got the better of her and she eventually took off running. So, I counted her out to 3, meaning that she has 3 chances to follow the rules, and if we got to 3, we would pack up our stuff and head home. She got to 3. She wasn't happy about it. Tears ensued.

In the meantime, other parents showed up with children, many of whom looked to be the same ages as my girls, and let them loose. They trusted the lifeguards to watch over their kids, essentially, in my opinion, releasing some of their responsibility for their children over to teenagers who, while likely very good at life-guarding, don't have enough eyes in their head to watch everyone. And while these kids were largely well behaved, they were still running (forcing the lifeguards to yell at them) and were still playing in a pool without an adult's eyes on them at all times. One little girl playing by me, well out of her mom's sight, couldn't have been a day over 3!

When K broke the rules and started crying, much of the screaming and splashing going on around us stopped. Parents and kids alike watched us as K begged to stay and I reasoned with her to leave on her own feet versus making me carry both her and A. That is when it hit me....it isn't fun disciplining your children, particularly in public. Why would anyone want to do it for show? Even if I were, I doubt that anyone else watching would have cared, they could barely keep tabs of their own kids much less condemn or compliment me mentally for my parenting choices. At that very moment, I made the best choice for my girls and for me, and I honestly didn't care what anyone else was thinking. If I had, I might have decided to stay, because it was certainly more embarrassing for both K and I to have her crying and begging to stay than it was to have her running poolside, particularly since everyone else was doing it.

Discipline, regardless of the setting or situation, is always about how I expect my children to behave and about learning that their actions have consequences. Discipline, in this particular case, was about loving my children enough to take full responsibility for their safety. For that, I will never apologize.

Bathing beauties (in our little pool at home, no way I can take them to the pool by myself and take pictures!)

Reclaiming laziness

2010-04-29T13:32:00.003-05:00

Stay at home moms , or at least the ones I know, seem to crave activities. We are always looking for things to do, places to go, play dates to schedule, ad nauseum. Whether we are avoiding housework or hoping to tire out kids out so they'll take good naps, we seem to dread staying home alone with our kids. I know that I do. With K, I was stuck in a high-rise apartment in Brazil all day, and just wanted to find a way to get out of the house. Frankly (and some may call is selfishly), I was tired of playing with Little People all day long. So I coordinated a small expat play group and I walked every morning with a neighbor, essentially getting us out of the house and myself off of the playroom floor. When A came along, we were back in the States and part of a mom's group, and I found that the hours dragged just a little less when we were at play dates, so I scheduled one every day I could.

K is four now, and in preschool 3 days a week. On the days she is home, we are usually rushing through breakfast to get out for a walk with friends or head to the grocery store or gym. More and more lately, K has been asking me to give her time to play in the mornings. Play comes after getting dressed, getting your teeth brushed, putting away your clothes, emptying the dishwasher (me...I wish K was old enough to do that) and a million other things. Play has taken a backseat to do.

Experts say that kids don't get enough unstructured playtime and that this phenomenon is leading to kids who are less creative. Boredom is good for children and their abilities to be social, creative, intelligent creatures. And while boredom tends to make Mommy a bit claustrophobic, perhaps I need to embrace playtime, not only for them, but for me. Next year, K starts Kindergarten and A starts preschool. Play will become a rarer commodity, as will precious time with my girls that I will never be able to reclaim. I need to revel in the boredom, enjoy the play, lay on the floor and let them build Little People towers all around me. Before I know it, it will all be gone.

Oh, and according to K, we need to eat more Popsicles out on the back porch...so here we go...

Negotiating the Gray

2010-04-28T12:29:00.000-05:00

I am a control freak. It is such a part of me that I had given up hope of redeeming myself. I try to use it to my benefit and find that I attract friends and loved ones who appreciate that side of me. And while I will moderate it in the company of new acquaintances and friends, the older I get, the more dedicated I am to embracing who I am and not being afraid to share myself with others.

My control "freakiness" has extended itself, naturally, to my child-rearing style. I am the type of parent who tries to have one eye or ear on each kid at all times. I have found that this has served me well in the first 4 years of K's life, as she has grown up to be a respectful, well-mannered child. That being said, I have also made an effort to control myself when it comes to being overbearing in regards to her sense of adventure and risk-taking. I try to allow K to make her own mistakes, as long as the physical or emotional repercussions are minor and limited, and find that this has also helped her grow into a well rounded girl. The one place where I would say that my parenting approach has failed is in regards to K's ability to stand up to herself. She tends to cry easily when another child gets in her way and doesn't always take the initiative to correct them or take care of herself (despite her Dad's insistence that she just punch the other kid in the nose).

My well rounded, respectful girl is now 4 and a half, and has entered a stage I like to call the "tell you whats" Lately, every time I correct K, ask her to do something she doesn't want to do or just say "No," she counters with "I tell you what Mom." The "tell you whats" were cute at first; heck, to hear a 4 year old say that phrase is cute in and of itself. But now, the "tell you whats" have expanded into the "I don't want tos" and an occasional blatant disregard for anything I have said. Needless to say, my inner control freak is mad. I have found myself butting heads with her all week and wondering how do I reign her in now and frightened about how in the hell I will handle the teenage years.

Apparently, I am not supposed to reign her in completely. I am reading Deak and Barker's book Girls Will Be Girls: Raising Confident and Courageous Daughters and am finding that I am making some of the biggest mistakes in raising girls. Namely, I am not allowing K room to, as they call it, negotiate the gray. By attempting to lay down my laws and teaching K to learn from them and them alone with little wiggle room, I am preventing her from learning how to make her own decisions and fight for the ones she feels important. Namely, I am creating a daughter who cannot stand up for herself. Now my inner control freak is scared. How am I supposed to teach her to be respectful of adult authority and allow her to practice negotiation at the same time? How am I supposed to reign in my control freak that has served us so well for the past few years, thereby denying an important aspect of who I am, so my daughter can develop her own self confidence? When do I allow her to negotiate and when do I put my foot down? How do I do all this while raising a two year old, maintaining my home and ensuring the sanity of myself and my husband? Help!!!!

Apparently, I need to learn how to negotiate the gray a little better. Maybe that is why I am a control freak, because I have found it easier to be in charge than to negotiate. Once again, maybe I'll learn something new in the course of raising my girls. I certainly hope I can learn this lesson...

Learning new things...

2010-04-15T14:42:00.000-05:00

Let me begin this story (that is actually about my daughter) by saying that I am a relatively well-educated woman. I put off a husband and kids until I completed my education, and then once I met and married L, we were on the "5 year plan," allowing me to develop my career and us to save some money. K was born when I was in mid-30's and I had lived a lot of life by then. So, I have seen a lot, learned a lot, done a lot, and I am glad that I have. I don't often find myself missing out on things I "could have done" or "could have learned." I feel like this wisdom, as it were, allows me to roll with punches of motherhood better than it would have had I become a mother earlier in life. I have learned a lot in this prelude to motherhood.

One thing that I have yet to learn is that children will always surprise you; you and everyone else that they come in contact with. This lesson is hard-learned, it seems, as I always find myself thinking that my girls, or at least K (she is 4 1/2 and largely self-reliant) , are predictable. And predictability is key to Mommy's sanity. If I can prevent melt-downs and avoid disasters, then Mommy is calm, Mommy has it under control. In other words, Mommy is the unflappable, level headed, well-educated, mature mom that she considers herself to be. If Mommy is not calm, well, we'll just say that we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Today, K was unpredictable. She rode to a play date in the backseat of her "boyfriend's" minivan. Wow, it sounds so scandalous to say that she was riding in a van with her boyfriend, but he is also 4 and his 3 year old brother and mother were with them. She has ridden in the backseat of our minivan (i.e. the Big Black Bus) numerous times. She is a pro at long distance car rides. She has an iron constitution and a somewhat brave demeanor. But today, she threw-up...all over herself, all over her (gulp, $100+) American Girl doll, and all over her boyfriend's car. Someday we'll laugh about it and I'll tell her about times I have thrown up in my boyfriends' cars...when she is older, much older. But today, I was mildly mortified.

Why, why do kids who have never been carsick in their lives suddenly develop this ailment while in another mom's backseat? Why do kids who are so even keel suddenly develop fears? Why are they unpredictable? Why do they continued to surprise me?

Because, they are and they do. They will never fail to surprise you; good, bad or ugly. I am learning this, this new thing. Hopefully it sticks. I didn't let it faze me though...having other mom's around to watch my reaction always keeps the calm intact, but that's old news.

If at first you don't succeed

2010-04-14T13:36:00.001-05:00

I'll admit, I have tried this in the past and failed. I guess I find it odd that someone would want to read my musings. That and I have never been a journal writer...why start now. But, I find myself wishing I could expand on my daily Facebook status updates and, well, I want to be a writer...someday.

So, I will start again, and while I have more than a Popsicle stick, a piece of gum and some tinfoil to do it with, I will call this blog MacGyver Mom. My husband calls me MacGyver...I like figuring things out, putting things together (and often taking them apart) and being an all around fix-it girl. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to keep record of the things I have done so my girls can learn from me in perpetuity. At the very least, I'll get my need to write and need to create out of my system.

So this time, I am going to make an honest effort, or at least more honest than the last one! MacGyver, wouldn't give up so easily...or so I assume, I never actually watched the show.