Thursday Thoughts

I'm way too tired to attempt a coherent post so here are my random Thursday Thoughts:

1. After complaining that we were having pizza for dinner, my older daughter (the Mote) then complained that it was cold. Instead of asking one of us to heat it up, she brought it over to the window and asked the sun to warm it for her.

2. The Mote really enjoyed "Cotton Fu Panda" this afternoon - followed by a real karate lesson at her friend's karate school. The Who enjoyed hearing her sister say "Hiya".

3. I've been working on a knitted lace shawl since BEFORE I was pregnant with The Who (she'll be 1 in August) and I have half a pattern repeat and a the top border left to do and it is done. I'm hoping to wear it this fall. I said that last summer too.

4. I finally started tackling the stack of magazines next to my bed. I'm caught up to April (2008) (yes, skimming the pictures counts as catching up).

5. I, like every other blogger that I faithfully read who is not going to Blogher, is going through some Blogher envy issues this week.

6. Who has cute 1st birthday ideas they want to share? Think 4 o'clock BBQ with a 1 year old, an 18 month old and 9 or 10 3-6 year olds and way too many adults.

Thanks and I promise, next week a real post with paragraphs and all.

To Kiss the Boo Boos

It's been an interesting week around here. It's been a week were I spent a lot of time questioning the decisions my husband and I have made and considering our options. Before we had kids (ok, before we knew how much kids cost!) we made the decision that I would stay home with them, at least until they started school.

Well, soon enough financial reality hit and we realized that I had to work if those kids wanted food, clothing and dance lessons. So, I've started and stopped and restarted various businesses over the past few years. I am currently working on 4 of those businesses - albeit some more intensly than others. And, this week, all 4 required my attention. I am working as (1) a freelance writer for several different clients,(2) a legal researcher for an attorney (I was an attorney way back in my pre-kid life), (3) an independent contractor for the state - training foster parents about special education law; and (4) an independent contractor for a local boutique selling their overstock on Ebay. I really enjoy all of these positions and am so lucky to have them. Yet, this past week all of these jobs needed my attention and deserved to have priority. I found it hard to balance those demands with my children who are, for the most part, home with me this summer.

So, during this crazy week, I decided that I wanted to go back to work so that I could give my attention to my job during work hours and to my kids the rest of the time. I thought I might even be able to spend time with my patient husband again who most often gets neglected because of my schedule.

Then this morning, my daughter bumped her head. Lightly - no big injury, thank goodness. Her aunt, her father and her grandmother, all of whom she adores, were in the room. But, she came running to find me at my desk. She looked up and said, "I'm just so glad that you are always here to kiss my boo boos."

I kissed her head, fixed her pigtails and got back to work because I like being home with my kids and I enjoy my work. There's no need to change a thing - unless any of you know a good, reasonably priced babysitter who wants a part time job :)

I Can't Help It

I had three different blog posts floating around in my head this morning. I was going to update you on my (gasp!) knitting - with pictures (please don't faint.) I was going to ask you for help on learning to trust that my 4 year old will make good decisions. She's a great kid and I need to stop treating her like she's 2 and doesn't know how to keep herself safe. Or, I was going write about how every mom in this town drives a blue or silver SUV or minivan (myself included). Why? Don't they come in other colors? Oh, you don't care?

Well, don't worry because I can't write about any of those things today.

I'm stuck on this "news" article about how people with pets are going to vote in the upcoming presidential election.

Really? Why did we even poll on this topic? Who cares? Oh, and I love my crazy dog but I'm not voting for McCain.

Saying Goodbye

I just wrote a very dark, dramatic post called "how do you know it's the last time?" The last time you'd speak to a friend, kiss an elderly relative or have sex with an ex-boyfriend?

Then I deleted it because, well, it scared me.

So, I changed the title and theme of this post and I'd like to talk about saying goodbye with dignity and grace.

My husband's beloved grandmother is dying. She's been sick for a few months and over the weekend she made the very brave decision to stop all medical treatment and to die. Yesterday, my husband had the opportunity to say goodbye to her. She told him how at peace she was with the decision, how proud she was of him and his family and how much she loved all of us. He got to tell her that he loves her.

Her comments to the twenty something grandchildren were even lighter. She simply said "Adios. See you in the next life." (Adios is light and even funny when used by your eighty something year old Jewish grandmother).

At a time when we all want to comfort her, she continues to comfort us, to love us
and to teach us. She is teaching us to accept what we can't change and to find peace in it. She is teaching us to say what we mean and to love each other. She is teaching us how to end something bravely and gracefully.

And while she never knew what a "blog" was and most certainly will never read this, she did know that we love her. Very much.

Why?

Why is it that I keep going to the doctor with healthy children and coming out with sick ones?

Over the winter, I took the Mote (4 year old)for a regularly scheduled appointment. Everyone was feeling fine. Two throat cultures later both my kids had strep throat.

Then, last month we go for the Who's (almost 10 month old!)regularly scheduled appointment. She's a happy baby and we go through the whole appointment with the doctor remarking on her good nature and (thank G-d!) good health. Then, the very last thing the doctor did was check the Who's ears. She had a double ear infection.

Yesterday, I took the Who for her ear recheck. Her ears look good but her throat is very red and she looks like she is at the beginning of "something". Then I talked to the doctor about the Mote's recent resurgence of potty accidents after a few great months. She wants her to pee in a cup again and test for a UTI. To the Mote there is no fate more horrible than peeing in a cup. The kid doesn't have a UTI. She has a "school's over and I'll make you pay for that" disease.

So, once again I went in with two healthy kids and left with two possibly sick kids. Oh, how I dread our August and September appointments.

Dinner with the Boss

Last night my husband's new boss came for dinner. He is moving here from out of state and his wife and kids are still in New Jersey. They have questions about the area and he's living in a hotel all week so we thought he could use a homecooked meal and some conversation.

Seems we forgot we have children. Next time I tell you we're having company...please tell me to entertain at lunch, not dinner. The afternoon went well. The Mote (4 year old) and I made a pie. The steak was marinating. The salad, asparagus and couscous were ready to go.

Then 5 pm happened. I was putting the asparagus in the oven to roast and feeding the baby when I splattered carrots all over myself. Ok, costume change for mommy was not part of the plan but I can roll with the punches. No problem. I go do that. I come back and realize that I had left the baby's bowl of babyfood on her highchair tray. She decided to make me a masterpiece. She painted her face, her hair, her entire high chair and was starting a splatter paint piece on the floor when I came back in.

Her older sister appeared at that very minute and slipped on the splatter paint baby food artwork. Now, she needed to be changed. I helped her clean herself up and asked her to go change her clothes while I started cleaning up the baby food mess. It was then that I smelled somthing burning...damn. Forgot the asparagus.

As I was swearing at the asparagus (because that would make it better), the Mote comes back in the kitchen. She has chosen an orange and pink wool sweater and blue shorts to wear. I pleaded, I begged, I bribed her to go change again. Into something that was a)appropriate for summer and b)appropriate to meet Daddy's boss for the first time. I lost.

I went into supermom mode and got us all relatively clean and rescued what was left of the asparagus. Things were relatively calm when our company arrived. He got a nice chuckle out of the Mote's outfit.

The Mote was convinced that he was there just to visit her so my husband and I had trouble having a conversation. She had to show him her room, have a race, play Chutes and Ladders and dominate the conversation. He was patient but clearly wanted to take about where he should live, what doctors they should use and what kinds of activities his kids might enjoy in town.

Meanwhile, the baby wanted to be held and only by her Daddy.

And, so ended a crazy night. Oh, and I am not cooking again for a long time. Burgers tonight, I think.

The Birth of a Who

Sorry things have gone dark here for a few days. It's been one of those beautiful summer weeks were a million posts have started in my head and never made it to the computer. School is out and we are starting to fall into a summer pattern around here. I'm finding the work from home part of that pattern darn near impossible but other than that life is good.

Since I can't seem to get my thoughts down on paper and because Alex Elliot has a great idea, I have decided to participate in her Happy Birthdays Carnival. The idea is that each woman gets to tell her birth story uninterrupted.

I could tell the story of my older daughter's birth but we were both pretty sick and my feverish middle of the night delivery after three hours of pushing is a blur. A delightful blur, but a blur.

My younger daughter's birth started pretty much the same. I had gestational diabetes and was ready to have a baby and a milkshake. Because of the gestational diabetes, my doctors agreed to induce me the day before my due date instead of a week after my due date like they did with my older daughter. We went to the hospital at 8 a.m. on August 30. I was on pitocin by 9. I was feeling pretty good and decided that I didn't want pain medication.

At 11 am, my doctor came in and said, how about we deliver you at 3? I laughed and said great!

The doctor broke my water around 1. I remember the pain after that really well. The nurse kept asking if I wanted to be checked and if I felt like I had to push. I kept saying "I have no idea, how bad does this get?" I sat in the rocking chair this whole time and found the rocking motion very comforting.

At 2:50 pm, the doctor checked me and said I was 10 centimeters and I could push. I did and I seriously decided that I could not do it. I told her that I was either going to stay pregnant forever or they needed to get me drugs. She said no - to both requests. Thankfully, my younger daughter has an incredibly agreeable nature and was born in just two pushes - at 3 pm just as the doctor had predicted.

30 minutes later I was off the pitocin and fluids IV and I felt great. Unlike with my first (also vaginal) delivery, I could move around easily and really felt better than I had in months.

My hospital stay was just horrible (unlike my other delivery at a different hospital which was wonderful) but I didn't care. 36 hours after her birth, I was home with my husband and both my girls and, of course, our trusty pup.

While the births of my daughters were different, I really believe they were both as they were meant to be. My older daughter despite her 9 lbs 2 oz size and difficult delivery was born safely. We didn't know if she was a boy or a girl before she was born and when the doctor said "girl" that is one of the most memorable moments of my life - even though I don't remember much else from that night.

In the end, I don't care how they got here. I'm blessed to have them and so thankful for the chance to be their mom.

2008 Summer Knitting Goals Contest

So, Ali got me thinking about my summer knitting goals and I thought I would enter the contest.

Here are my knitting goals:

Finish:
1. The Big Brown Sweater for my husband.

2. Finish the Tilted Duster for myself. All I have left to do is add a sleeve and block the thing. First sleeve went well. Second one doesn't fit. I'm in denial.

3. Finish the lace rectangular shawl. Loving this right now. I've completed 4 1/3 of the 5 repeats and then it needs to be blocked. Hoping to finish this before the end of the month.

Start:
1. A lace scarf. I have lots of beautiful lace and I find it a great summer knit. I haven't decided yet which pattern or lace to use.

2. Mittens for me. I bought the yarn a year ago.

3. Hats for my girls. I bought the yarn last Thanksgiving and can't wait to use it.

And, no, the list does not include the second sock but could possibly include a whole different pair.

Wordless Wednesday

Relay for Life

On Saturday, the 4 of us participated in Relay for Life. By "participated", I mean that my husband chased our four year old around and around while she visited with friends and got her face painted, the baby slept in her stroller and I had some time to walk and reflect.
This year Relay was very personal for our family. I lost a friend last spring to cancer just two weeks after she was diagnosed. She left her husband and four children - the baby wasn't five months old when his mom died. I also have a friend who beat the odds this year and is in remission for the third time. She is watching her son grow up. It was for both of them that I walked.
Our team raised over $13,000.
Next year, we hope to raise more money and we hope to not have anyone new to walk for.

Proud to be a WAHM

Dana brings up a good point and one that I've been meaning to blog about. I've talked a lot about my kids (and random other things) on this blog but I haven't mentioned that work at home thing I do that is supposed to be part of this blog.

I do, currently, work at home. In my post-law school life, I've had a few different careers. First, as an attorney. Then, as an education specialist for the MA Department of Education. After that, I was an education surrogate parent. Now, I am a freelance writer. There were parts of all of my jobs that I really enjoyed and I don't regret any of them. However, there are some things I really enjoy about being a work at home mom in general and a freelance writer specifically:

* I make my own schedule. I am available for all school events, birthday parties, playground trips and doctor's appointments. It means that I work well into the night and on weekends but, for me, it is worth it.
* I get to hear all the funny things my kids say and watch them play all day long. I really enjoy being with them and I'm all too aware that they are only young for a short time. I feel like I need to soak up every minute of that.
* I feel like I'm still in school (which was my goal all along). I work for several different clients and write on a variety of topics. The work is interesting and rewarding.
*Ok, since I'm always honest with you my loyal blog readers, let's not forget my pajamas. I love them and now I can wear them whenever I want :)

Thanks to Dana and to Kelly for making me focus on why I love to work from home. The lifestyle isn't for everyone and, trust me, now that we're talking about work, you are sure to hear about some of the difficulties in the near future.

Outsmarted..Again.

I hate stuffed animals. There, I've said it and now you know. I can't stand them. I don't mind my daughters' dolls so much but the countless bunnies, dogs, ducks, monkeys, cats, unicorns and other stuffies irritate me. And my kids have a lot A LOT of them.

So, one night last week as I was straightening up my daughter's room (stop laughing, I didn't say cleaning, I said straightening) I asked my daughter if we should give some of the dozens of animals to kids who have no stuffed animals. She looked at me and said no.

The next morning she asked for the one turquoise bunny I managed to smuggle out of her room and into the trash. Of course. She had never played with it before but now it was critical to her very being. Being the good mom that I am, I lied and told her that I would look for it.

No more was said about stuffed animals or giving them away. Until this morning.

On the way to school this morning, my daughter said, "Mommy? You know all those shoes in your closet? Do you know how many shoes you have? More than you could ever use! So, I've been thinking we should give some of your shoes to people who have no shoes. Ok? It would a really nice thing to do...."

And once again, I am outsmarted by a preschooler.

My House Circa 1:30 pm

Scene - Me on my hands and knees cleaning the kitchen floor with a Clorox wipe (I clean everything with Clorox wipes).

The Mote - Mommy, what do you think you're doing?
Me - Cleaning the floor.
The Mote (preschooler)- But why?
Me - Because we can't live in dirt.
The Mote - Why? We ALWAYS live in dirt, Mommy.
The Goose (dog)- Good point. Going back to my busy day of napping now.
The Who (baby) - Ha Ha Ha

I give up. Going to the playground now.

Reflections on the School Year

"School" has ended and "camp" begins on Monday. Those words are in quotes because it is a 1 week camp at school and for the life of me I can't figure out the difference between school and camp for 4 year olds. Anyway, I thought this might be a good time for some reflection.

It is no secret to those who know us that the Mote and I have had a difficult transition to organized programs. When she was 7 months old I had to move her out of a daycare because the provider was drinking heavily during the day. The next placement was great but we moved when she was 13 months old so it was short lived.

When she was two she went to yet another in home daycare (her 3rd) and it was not what I hoped it would be for her. I was anxious every time I dropped her there. The same thing happened when she started preschool this year. By February of this year, I was sure there was something very wrong with her and me because we couldn't seem to get along anywhere. I dreaded school days and the Mote's behavior was horrible.

In February she started at a new school. I'd like to say that decision was mine but it wasn't. Her old school asked her to take time off because of potty accidents (do you see why I don't use my children's real names in this blog?!). So, we moved her to her new school. And get this. It is the very end of May and I don't have any concerns, complaints or anxiety. NONE. NOTHING. NADA. We are both excited about school (and camp?) days. I've been so pleased with the Mote's progress in the past few months and the activities at the school. The communication with the school has been fabulous and the Mote has not had an accident there in months. So, Sheryl, Nancy and Lisa, thank you for making this such a happy time for all of us. Even at the incredibly high price of gas (I have to complain about something!) we are so happy to be with you.

Did I Turn the Oven Off?

Seriously, what is it with me and the oven? As soon as I get in my car I begin wondering if I turned off the {insert appliance: hairdryer, coffee maker, oven etc}.

So, this morning I was multitasking. I was working, taking care of the baby and making meatballs, chicken and marinara sauce for the freezer. I have a crazy month of deadlines ahead of me and decided to get ahead in my cooking. Things were going along well until I got in the car to go pick up the big child at school - from school we go to my parents house for a bit and then to swimming. 5 minutes from home I started wondering if I turned the oven off. I worked myself into quite a frenzy but didn't have time to go home and check. My husband works nearby and I asked him to go home and check. He is used to this by now. Of course, being the organized, on top if it multitasking queen that I am (stop laughing) the oven was turned off and the dog and house were safe and sound.

On to the next task.

Getting to Know Each Other

I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to send me e-mails or comment on my blog. I really appreciate your input and you often make me laugh with your comments on my crazy little life.

So, I thought you might all enjoy learning a bit about each other...now, don't worry, I am not sharing names or even any parts of e-mails that have been sent to me directly. I'm not trying to create any stalker type situations here.

Instead I thought I would let you know that the readers of this blog are coming from almost every state in the U.S. as well as the countries of Canada, Ireland, Israel, Italy and Japan.

Some of my readers I knew long before I started to blog and some others have found me through searches that have turned up this blog.

Some of the search terms included:

*What happens if you break passover?
Sorry - I have no idea what happens. You enjoy some bread?

*Love boutique
Um - not here sorry.

*Big yucks
I don't think that post was about the "yucks" you were looking for.

*Goose singing happy birthday
As talented as my pup is, he doesn't sing.

*My daughter hates the taste of her antibiotics
MINE TOO! Thanks for letting me know I'm not alone.

*fancy dress up pirate birthday party
YEAH! We're not the only ones!! Joint party next year?!

*Consider yourself goose
'nuf said

Again, thanks for reading and commenting!

Packing

Seriously people. We're going away for two days. TWO DAYS. I can't believe the amount of stuff we're bringing.
We need:
Several outfits per child (spilling, accidents, change in weather)
Pajamas and favorite blankets
Nightlights
Thermometers and medicine (I am paranoid)
Sunscreen and bugspray
Snacks
Toys
Books
DVDs
Sippy Cups
Baby Food
And oh so much more that I haven't even thought of yet.
It will be worth it, right?

I Am That Mother

You know the mother. The one who can't control her kid? Yep, that's me. The one who cried at her kid's dance recital? Me again.

The Mote (4 year old) had her dance recital rehearsal on Friday. At 2:15 I told her it was time to get ready. We needed make up, hair in a bun and tights on. Costume could be done at the rehearsal.

Well, the kid put on her yellow hard hat and her fairy wings and dug in those heels. She was not letting me near her hair. She screamed. She cried. She fell asleep. I panicked. My husband hovered looking shell shocked.

For a few minutes, I decided to scrap the whole thing. I've had so many battles with her the past few weeks over non-negotiable stuff like taking medicine and going to the doctor. I was going to drop the issue of the rehearsal and recital and just accept that she has a fun year in dance and that was that.

Then, I came to and decided that she needed to learn something here and I should try parenting. I woke her up. I calmly told her that she could either participate in the recital or tell her teacher that she wasn't going to participate but that the teacher needed to be told and I wasn't doing it for her. With that, my husband carried a screaming, kicking, hysterical child and got her belted in her car seat.

She was calm by the time we got to the rehearsal (I did bribe her with ice cream...I didn't say I was a good parent...just that I was giving this parenting thing a whirl).

So, in we walk. Every (E-V-E-R-Y) other little girl is prepared with her hair and make up done and is holding her mom's hand with all of their stuff in a neat little bag. My kid's face is swollen and blotchy and her hair looks she's running off to join the circus. I'm holding her little dance bag, her costume, my camera, my keys, my cell phone, her shoes and I look like a bag lady who forgot her bag. Our stuff is all over the place. She's whining.

That's when I became that mother. Neither one of us could get it together so I yanked her into the bathroom with all of our stuff falling out of my arms and yelled something about getting it together RIGHT NOW. Didn't work.

Some other mom got her hair in a ballerina bun. I got her costume on. And she looked at me, apologized and ran up on stage with an 18 year old who is her new BFF. G-d help me.

They practiced the finale first and she kept up with all the big kids, looking adorable. I was ok then. Even when she bowed by herself.

Then came time for her class to do their number. And I became that mom again. The one who goes up to video her kid while she is crying and shaking with pride. The one who forgets that every other mother in the place is feeling the same thing and is sure that she is the only one so choked up and so proud. The one who wants to run up on stage and get her little girl and bring her down again and go home and play blocks and just keep her a baby a little while longer because I don't think I can handle this growing up thing...

The one who is so proud of her girl and can't wait to see the recital on Sunday (oh- and have a few months off from dance class and payments too :))

Great Grandma Bess's Strawberry Pie

When I cook (which is not nearly as much as I should) I do it from respectable, copyrighted recipes. Thank you Food TV.

Anyway, since this is rarity - both me cooking AND having a non-copyrighted recipe - I thought I would share with you our family favorite Strawberry Pie. It is a favorite among all 4 generations of my family.

I didn't know Grandma Bess but from what I hear she did not speak English well, she did not measure ingredients and she was one hell of a cook. So, this is the best I can recreate her recipe. Sorry, Bubbe Bess for any variations.

Great Grandma Bess Strawberry Pie

1. Prepare a pie crust (for me, that means defrost a pie crust but make your own if you are so inclined)
2. Fill pie crust with vanilla pudding (instant is fine).
3. After pudding sets, put sliced strawberries on top.
4. Make filling. In a medium pot, mix together 1 cup crushed strawberries, 1 cup sugar and 3 tablespoons corn starch. Add 1/2 cup water and 1 tablespoon of butter. Cook over medium heat, stirring regularly, until mixture is thick. Let cool completely. Spread on top of pie.
5. Let pie set in refrigerator for several hours.
6. Whip up some fresh whip cream (no cans here people, make the real thing) and add to pie just before serving.

Yum.

A Farmer I am Not

If you love me...ok, if you want me or my kid to come to your birthday party then please for the love of G-d do not have it at a farm. Please.

As you can probably guess, my 4 year old and I recently attended a party at a farm. I was all excited about the afternoon. I dropped the baby off at my mother's house and took my older daughter and her friend to the party. Most of her class was there and I was looking forward to hanging out with some of the other moms while the children had themselves a fine time at the farm. The weather was perfect. 68 degrees and sunny. Apparently, I missed the idea that this event was at a farm and not a country club.

So we arrive at the farm and begin the trek out to the stream to see the natural spring. After the little boy I was watching stuck his hand in a pile of compost, my daughter decided to see if she could balance on a rock in front of the stream. I caught her on her way down and only her feet got wet.

After that, our 16 year old farm guide let the children into an enclosed fruit and vegetable garden with instructions "not to run" and "not to step on the beds". Wanna guess what happened next? It is going to be a very poor strawberry crop this year on the farm, I'm afraid.

Not heeding the lesson of the berries, our fearless (or high) tour guide then brought us in to the chicken coop with the same "do not run" instruction. In all fairness the kids were pretty good about the do not run rule and the nice lady said nothing like "don't try to pluck feathers off the live chickens". Two of the other mothers were conducting business on their cell phones. In the chicken coop. Another one, was texting her husband about her sudden desire for wings for dinner.

After that, the children headed into a big pen with 2 goats and a sheep. The mothers decided to hang back this time. Wrong choice. My child lost her footing and slipped and rolled down the hill. Yes, there was poop involved. No, I'm not ready to say more. Clothes have been thrown out. Another child angered a goat who went after him. This activity was short lived.

From there, they brought the kids to an herb garden and let them taste different kinds of herbs. Except it was 5 pm and the guide lady called it a vegetable garden. One of the kids wanted corn, mine wanted celery and so the hungry, tired, smelly children began to wail. All 15 of them.

After applying copious amounts of Purrell, we gave each child a chocolate cupcake and went on our merry way. And that, my friends, was the farm party.