aisle 9

in light of the thousand things i have failed to post over the past umptyump months, i am a wee surprised (and embarrassed) that this is what i end up sharing with you. but, seriously, its funny. in a seventh grade humor way. i came thisclose to stopping in my tracks and thanking this young couple for giving me the best laugh id had in a loooong time (im blaming the grumpy frumpy miserable preggie ive become on my lack of good will and laughter). anywho...so im at a store enjoying some retail therapy (aka alone time making up uses for stuff i dont need at target) when i overhear a conversation at the other end of the aisle. they were young, but not super young...its amazing what i now consider young...im guessing mid twenties and they were def a sweet couple. this is their dialogue that im sure they would be totally fine with me sharing::

sweet clueless girl:: honey, i just dont see it here. you know what im talking about though, right? its that arousal stuff i need.

not so clueless guy:: no, babe. i dont know what youre talking about. this is furniture cleaner.

sweet clueless girl:: nooo, not cleaner, the arousal stuff. it sprays. its smells awesome and works great!

not so clueless guy:: you mean, aerosol? not arousal? aerosol spray? a-e-r-0-s-0-l?? air freshening aerosol spray?

sweet clueless girl:: oh, yeah. thats it. whatever, same thing.

not so clueless boy:: um, no. its not exactly the same thing. its a waaaaay different thing...

at this point i am laughing so hard i have to excuse myself from eavesdropping, i mean inadvertently overhearing their convo which im bummed about because i would have loved to hear his explanation of the difference to his adorable, vocab challenged girlfriend. so. funny. to me....in a 7th grade humor kind of way.

dead bolts

okay, so while i really thought id be blogging more, i now realize this goal can go ahead and join the ranks of wanting to run more and eat less cheese. clearly, i am incapable of making the time to get this done. the truth is, for the most part, my time is not my own. and before you assume im singing the 'whoa es me' mantra of a stay at home mama, let me assure you, i am living my dream and would not wish to have any other precious time thieves than the two little ones i have. and with the lumpy one in preschool two days a week this year, i have revisited the art of long lunches with friends with uninterrupted conversation free of baby wipe napkins and the responsibility of cutting up someones meal. it has been altogether fabulous. however, there are still a number of things i like to do while at home that dont include wiping noses and playing cars, dolls, trains, kitchen, doll house, etc...(this list could go on for pages...thank you, God, for imaginative children....most days).

there are really only two things i totally took for granted before having children...ie, i didnt see these entering the realm of extinction in my life as clearly as i anticipated less sleep and baby weight. they are:: phone time and shower time. who knew? apparently, along with sleep and an ideal weight, my ability to maintain a distraction free conversation on the phone as well as my ability to shower without the constant litany of questions from the other side of the door have vanished. gone. it never fails, the little people are happily playing together, practically reciting scripture in the corner until the phone rings at which time they come unglued. they instantly have 146 ailments, injuries, needs, complaints, questions, arguments, disasters and messes and complete chaos ensues within minutes. my own mom listened to my disbelief at this phenomenon, sympathetically enthralled in my predicament and offered this when i finished, 'at least you can walk away. when you were little, i was tied to the phone by one of those cords, unable to escape the kitchen.' it was at this time i realized how obvious the solution was, i am the adult. i own a cordless phone. i have a bedroom. with a lock on the door.

my plan was hatched. the next phone call i wanted to or needed to take, i was taking, undeterred by the mass chaos that ensued around me. after all, i would just retreat to my bedroom, lock the door and let my responsible 2 and 4 year old work it out, lord of the flies style. maybe santa will bring them a conch for such times as these...either way, im out. when the phone rang and it was a friend i had wanted to chat with, i tiptoed upstairs and locked my door. i experienced almost three minutes of conversation before those people picked up my trail and ended up at my door. i calmly explained id be out in a few minutes and would be happy to hook them up with whatever they needed at that time. i continued to talk while the sound of two whiny voices and 4 little hands pounded on and knocked on the door. it was a mild distraction and i was committed to my plan of just a few minutes on the phone. a moment later, it was silent and i smiled, savoring my small victory, realizing i had taught them a valuable lesson of not interrupting and learning how to entertain themselves for a few minutes. the silence lasted less than a minute and i heard a slight scratching sound coming from the other side of the door. how clever, theyve decided to play kitty or doggie and are pretending to try and get in.

i hadnt even completed the thought when the door opened and standing there with a plastic sword is bonnie and clyde. after immediately hanging up and accepting defeat, this conversation ensued::

me:: um, georgia, what are you doing?

georgia:: i picked the lock with jacks sword.

me:: you did?? how in the world did you do that?

georgia:: i just put it in the knob and turned it the other way to the unlock. it wasnt even tricky. i did it last week when i accidentally locked jack in his room. i can show you how if you want.

me:: no thanks, geogia, i think i can figure it out on my own.

im not sure what to do with this one other than realize that children have been crashing phone conversations since the beginning of phone time and i am no better, smarter or more creative than any other mom with kids before me. im considering a deadbolt, but feel that if i raise the challenge ill simply find myself with a 4 year old who will inevitably take the opportunity to hone her power drill skills. good times.

eleven minutes

so ive got around eleven minutes before the lumpy one will be joining me after he hops out of his crib without any effort to blog and im thinking eleven minutes is actually a pretty long time. jack has begun climbing out of his crib with the ease of spiderman and while i was initially panicked, im now seeing it as a sign of him growing up, becoming responsible for his own sleeping habits and of course getting one day closer to being capable of making my coffee.

we just got back last night from a quick weekend trip to hershey, pa and for those of you who are exceptionally slow, that would be the mother ship of the chocolate company. i consumed enough chocolate to make me sick and the kids started and ended each day with a mouthful of sugar. we did a day at hershey park (thank you hershey man for making it a discounted day for the military) and better half and i were able to rediscover one of our first loves. roller coasters.

somehow, in spite of our shared fear of fixed heights, we both looooooooove a great roller coaster. the pics they snap mid ride always tell the tale...this time around i had one pic that looked like i was on the brink of tears (thats a good ride) and another that looked like id just been told id won a winery in tuscany (this would be a happy crazy surprised face). both of them, however, only showed one chin so i was pleased and as tempted as i was to throw down the $12 for these tacky 4x6 souvenier pics to commemorate the thrilling time, i did manage to pass on them. we spent that $12 later on a kids meal. anywho...we had a really great day and loved spending the weekend with some of our besties and the fam.

a close second to my love of roller coasters is my love of people watching and for me, an amusement park is like hitting the mother lode on this obsession. i waffle between judgment and relief (im just being honest here) as i see the landscape of our country and where i fit in. and im still amazed at the number of tattoos that everyone seems to have. as one who has longed for one since i was 15, i can now safely say that over the last 6 months (no kidding) ive decided maybe i dont want one. the truth is they seem to be the least badass thing you can do these days with everyone from soccer moms to dentists having them. and really, that dolphin i desperately wanted 17 years ago would look like a dying beached whale on my navel at this point. and of course the sun i wanted on my back would look like a tramp stamp and the turtle i wanted on my foot would look like an open wound from a distance. most recently i wanted a word (i love words) on my wrist. alas, i couldnt decide on a word and am now thankful i didnt slap one on there. i guess im just realizing a tattoo is not a wise investment for a gemini who changes her mind at least twice a minute and has the attention span of a drunk gnat. i still see one on occasion that has me a little envious, but as time goes (and i seem to grow up....imagine that) i become less and less enamored with the idea of permanently putting something on my body. my parents are not so silently relieved.

road tripping with the little people is always a pleasure as well. mind you, this was only 2 1/2 hours, a laughable amount to all you road warriors with hundreds of hours logged and the crumbs proudly stuck in between the seats marking all of your journeys. however, for us amateurs, it was a drive. before heading home i decided, in a move that i was certain would pay dividends later, to find a parking lot and slap some jammies on these over sugared, under slept kids. while it did require a bit of effort, i assured my better half it would be worth our time, making for a seamless transition from car to bed with sleeping children upon our return home.

i somehow forgot we have the only two children who are incapable of sleeping in the car. as in, gk prefers to giving us a mile by mile commentary on her ever changing surroundings and jdub prefers throwing books and blowing his nose (his new talent) in his hands. i had to explain to the peach why we were no longer eating snacks as we had just completed 48 hours of chocolate and amusement park food and while that seem to satisfy her for awhile, she eventually began questioning my mothering abilities with, 'mom, did you pack any healthy snacks for me? im really hungry'. no, georgia, nothing healthy. rule #3 of a road trip is crappy snacks that taste great, curb hunger and can also do double duty by bribing you to be quiet when your dad and i get desperate. cant really imagine getting much leverage from a carrot stick.

and so it went. for 2 1/2 hours. they were really really good even if they didnt sleep and im just counting down the wake ups until we get to start our 16 hour road trip to the beach. perhaps by then ill be splitting a tylenol pm between the two of them. ill research that for the rest of you and report back.

happy summer and happy road tripping.

jimmy dean

i have always had sausage fingers. regardless of weight or size, my fingers have always resembled a nice collection of 10 sausage links in varying lengths. in hawaii, after an evening of grilling out with great friends and probably a few great drinks, one of my friends found out that my middle name (prior to me getting hitched and making my maiden name part of the deal) was for the vast majority of my life 'dean'. as in katherine dean. as in katie dean. as in of course (how the hell could i have missed the obvious correlation my entire life) katie dean sausage. fingers that is. trust me when i tell you that in order for you to get the heelariousness of this night, you did have to be there preferably with a slight buzz and a front row seat to frank (the friend) giving out his best katie dean sausage fingers commercials. they were funny. i laughed. i still laugh every time i think of it. what made it funny was a combination of many things, but what made it super funny to me was that it was just my fingers. wouldnt have been so funny if it had been 'katie dean sausage body'.

which leads me to my recent journey through the trenches of hell known as swimsuit shopping. two things i know i should have done more of before having kids (which incidentally i didnt figure out until after having them. (thats fairly typical of my luck and judgment) 1. sky diving (once was not enough) and 2. bikini wearing. yes, i wore them. a lot. always under the constant self loathing that bookended my bikini esteem from ages 14 to 28. i see pictures now of those days that had me hating my body and am saving them for my plastic surgeon for what i want my after pictures to look like. i would no more put on a bikini today than attempt to do math in public. im not putting my kids through it (seriously, your kids do not want their mom rocking a bikini) and im really not willing to put myself through it. but alas, who really loves their body in a bikini and more importantly who wants to be around someone who does? ill take self deprecating friend time on the beach any day over 'happy to be in my body' banter. like thats fun.

anywho, i decided it was time to add to my swimwear wardrobe this spring. when i originally ventured out in february, i put on a suit and immediately thought, 'okay, this is way too soon. clearly im still winterized', must wait until spring. but we all know that the early bird gets the worm or in my case, the reluctant winterized shopper will at least get sizes other than 2 and 16 to choose from. part of my problem (which i assure you is vast) is i have not committed a day in advance to this endeavor. its always grabbing a few minutes of time to try something on and then realizing it doesnt work. if i had a day in mind, i could at least go tanning (spray on, mom, i promise) and of course a 24 hour fast wouldnt hurt either, but these few minutes here and there with kids with me is not conducive to swimsuit shopping success. take last week for example when i had jack with me at an unnamed store. i grabbed a few options that involved mini swim skirts (the lamest attempt ever to make a 'mom' suit sexy) and halter tops. i also grabbed a box of yogurt covered raisins to keep jack happy. while stripping down to swimsuit attire, i noticed jack was now eating the raisins off the floor. thats dirty. and awesome because i would need to make a large deposit to his future therapy fund if he were actually paying attention to his half naked crazy mother frantically tugging and tying and turning around. which i should not have done. things werent awesome from the front, but really, a 3 way mirror in a dressing room?? shouldnt those only be in the common dressing area, as in youd have to really want to see yourself from 3 angles to do it? why are they forcing reflections of myself on me id rather not see right there in the dressing room? i made a mental note to fill out a customer service card, just a simple suggestion of removing the 3 way mirrors when the swimwear arrives would be sufficient. while staring at myself in disgust, jack thankfully broke the mood with the pin cushion. as in he found it somehow between fistfuls of dirty raisins and was now beginning to put the pin in his mouth. so, i moved in quickly and saved the boy from the choking hazard. i did nothing about the dirty raisins. i decided to call this a wasted day and started getting dressed. i was between the swimsuit and my clothing (that brief minute when you can think of nothing other than the comfort of your own clothes that fit and hide hail damage) when jack opened the dressing room door. thank you, jack. now im naked and horrified. what a great combo. in one seamless move jack was tossed and the door was closed, with a barricade of me preventing any future public exposure.

we left that wonderful 3 way mirror, pin cushion, lever handle door knobs store and came home. which was awesome because my $400 lands end order was waiting on the steps! yay! i had been assured by several very reliable sources that lands end was made for moms and grandmas and all varieties of women who need some bathing suit help (which i find somewhat deceiving because none of their models need any help, but whatever). apparently, they have an insane amount of spandex (which i always thought i should avoid, but supposedly, when in a suit, it has a less trashy scary look and manages to hold you in) it sounded altogether magical. i have never in my life been in such a hurry to go through the hell of putting on a suit, but with the lands end package in hand, i felt my luck was changing. ill say right now, dont take me to vegas. i put that spandex filled contraption on and looked. and stared. i look like something...something familiar, wait for it...oh, clearly, i looked like a sausage in casing. a big katie dean sausage. you have got to be kidding me. am i really the one person in the world who cant even wear a lands end suit? i have already returned all but one of them. the one i kept is really not good. add in what i paid for it and its down right ridiculous, but im not giving up or giving in. i am keeping this casing until i look great in it or find something else. im ordering from athleta this week...ill keep you posted.

**it happens

normally i avoid poop stories. mostly because there is still a part of me left from my childhood that would like to pretend no one poops. im sure it stems in part from growing up in a house with 3 girly girls living in it and no place for bathroom humor. i didnt know poop could be funny until i met pat and then of course his sister who is a total girl and can still find bathroom humor somewhat entertaining. and while i continue to avoid most conversations that center around poop, lately its becoming unavoidable.

i find it truly amazing what motherhood will do with an aversion to poop. she comes in with this bundle of joy and then all but immerses you in a sea of sh**. it starts with seemingly harmless poop that barely exists and is mostly scent free. and then of course before you know it, you are changing the diapers of a manchild who eats everything you eat and the nasty grows. then theres potty training (which for me was pretty uneventful the first time around which all but guarantees a multitude of poop issues the second time around) and then the announcements from the backseat of, 'i have to poop. a little, but please hurry' or while at the playground you suddenly find yourself leaving one child in the care of total strangers to take the other child into the woods to poop by the old oak tree.

and if not for the 24 hour span i recently experienced, i might be able to let this post pass, but as one who has just had the poopscapades ive had, i just have to share. you can thank me later.

on wednesday while hosting some of the coolest people in the world for their visit to d.c., we were all doing our part in helping me get the peach to preschool. we'd had a lazy morning of coffee drinking and talking and before i knew it i had exactly 7 minutes to get georgia to school. which was awesome because we were all still in our jammies. i began flying around upstairs disguising my lack of hygiene with a hat and spackling on some under eye concealer to trick people into thinking id had a lot more sleep than the few hours i really had. gk was in her room independently getting herself ready when i heard a blood curdling scream from her bathroom. i went running, as any semi responsible mama would and found her pants down, crap smeared self standing next the toilet. i said, 'sweetie, WHAT is the matter???' to which she answered, 'my brother did THIS!' and pointed into the potty. i hadnt even noticed jdub standing there until that moment. but just as she said, there he was, with a fistful of her necklaces looking into the poop filled potty. apparently, hed bum rushed the toilet, knocked her off and thrown something of value into the now crowded toilet. when i looked down, i could see what was freaking her out. the FREE plastic necklace shed picked out at the doctors office eons ago was now at the bottom of the toilet. everything in me wanted to 'accidentally' flush and move on, but i knew if it got stopped up, id have to admit to patrick (who is no plumber) that i had in fact, lazily chosen to take my chances and flush the necklace/poop combo. crap. so, i did what any sleep deprived, rushed mother of two who has become so desensitized to things that just a few short years ago would have had me gagging or hiring help to take care of. i reached in and grabbed that piece of crap necklace, flushed the poop, cleaned the toilet and the peach and began sanitizing all surfaces. and we were only 4 minutes late for school.

this should be the end of the story or at least the end of the poop story, but shock of all shocks, it isnt. i had around 24 hours to recover from the trauma of 'operation crappy jewelry' before experiencing poopscapade numero dos.

gk has had a cough for weeks. long enough for me to dismiss the 'its just a cold' theory and long enough for me to take her to the doctor for real meds. unfortunately, real meds have real side effects. some of you mamas are already tracking. that little miracle antibiotic, augmentin, is good for two things: curing what ever ails you and causing insane amounts of poop.

day 1 on the augmentin:: 'mooooooom, i need you, i had an accident.' i was sluggish to respond. mostly because she hasnt had an accident in many many months and even more so because i was chatting with my mom on the phone. i casually walked over to the bathroom and said something along the lines of 'mom, i gotta go, theres poop EVERYWHERE'. click.

and there was. the toilet, the floor, the door, the door knob, the rug, the peach. everywhere. seriously? apparently the antibiotic was doing wonders for her cough and her intestines. nice. so, we cleaned, cloroxed and sanitized all appropriate floors, knobs and surfaces. this was a scene that would repeat itself on a much smaller scale no less than 3 more times that day. three. (arent you thrilled im not sharing those details?) during the clean up of the first disaster, jdub managed to climb on top of the dining room table and fall off. fortunately his fall was broken by one of the chairs (weak silver lining, i know). at some point (although i barely remember it) i called patrick at work and gave him a run down of my morning on his voice mail. i must have sounded pathetic enough to land some serious sympathy points because he arrived home that night with the prettiest box of chocolates ive ever seen.

im hoping this is the last chapter in my long list of poopscapades, but with two little people in the house that continue to eat, i highly doubt this is the end of it. good times. please feel free to share any of your poopscapades, now that i get bathroom humor and know whats funny, id love to hear them. cheers to motherhood and her very dry sense of humor.

resolutions

i know you thought early february would be entirely too late to post a few new years resolutions. clearly you dont know me and how notoriously late i roll. so here goes in absolutely no particular order my list (less some of you type A crazies try and crack the code...there simply is none).

1. i will have my list done no later than february 3rd. already im exceeding expectations for myself.

2. i will continue busting my arse at the gym even if only for 10 more pounds. they are afterall, the most resilient 10 pounds in all the land, resisting mile after mile of calorie burning, exhaustion inducing treadmill time. they are my nemesis and i will run them off this year. or i lll give up entirely and toast my defeat with a pint of ben and jerrys. either way, im all in for at least a little while longer.

3. taking my cue from the movie julie & julia, i will no longer have friends i dont like. admit it, if you are a woman, you have friends you dont like. its crazy and im confident one of the reasons women still dont get equal pay...men dont have friends they dont like. we have got to correct this insanity. im starting now.

4. i will stop eating chips and salsa for lunch everyday. mostly because i can no longer justify to gk why she MUST finish her nitrate free sandwich, organic milk, organic fruit and last nights leftover veggies before she can have (drumroll) yogurt covered raisins. all of this with a mouthful of some vegetable oil fried tortilla chips and salsa. the hypocrisy has been brought to my attention by one fairly insightful 4 year old and i am fresh out of a legit comeback. they may also have formed an alliance with my 10 pounds. this is one happy union im going to attempt to break up.

5. if there are type As and type Bs, ive decided im a type Z. im finally okay with that. i have come to terms with how im wired up and i will no longer resist my type Z tendencies which include lots of to do lists that list numerous things ive already done, just because i like crossing things off and feeling like im making progress. logic rarely comes into play with type Zs.

6. i will finally clear out my linen closet and along with it years of linen loving collecting. at this point, we could have 7 beds made, with everyone wetting the bed the same night and not one would be without a fresh, clean set of sheets. crazy. i could be considered a linen hoarder. i have crappy towels from a decade ago that ive been saving in case we give the dog a bath. except we havent had abe since may of 2007 and i would never wrap up one of my soft, sensitive skin kids in one of them, so they need to go. along with the shower curtain from our first house. i paid too much for it and have been hanging onto it out of guilt. of course i just spent $30 to mail something to hawaii...type Z. nuff said.

7. we will invest stock in julios seasoning & chips, blue bell ice cream and shiner bock beer. why? because everyone we know outside the state of texas would offer up their first born or at least a kidney to have all three in the same house at the same time. theyre just that good. except for that seasonal shiner that tasted like crap. that was a rare exception.

8. i plan on watching mizzou and texas a & m lose every single game this season. especially when mizzou plays criminal ku and a & m faces t.u. this is my new expectation and im not holding out for any pleasant surprises. no edge of your couch anticipation, no game day parties with neutral friends who watch us become heartbroken fans left with nothing more than stories of decades past where victory was really a possibility. nope. from now on, we are looking forward to another rebuilding year.

9. i will no longer allow myself to get sucked into the infamous military wife chatter of one upsies. so, we moved 5 times in 8 years with a lot of crazy highs and lows and last minute change of plans. there in lies the story of EVERY military family. youre not special. im not special. in fact, we have had it pretty easy considering what so many other families have endured. we are unbelievably blessed to have job security serving in the most noble of ways no less with the perks of seeing the world. does it suck somedays? of course. am i drinking the kool aid? not a chance. but, i am guilty of listening to the litany of military speak complaints and sharing my own hard to believe tales. im done with it and promise to do better. at least until better half deploys again...then ill need some accountability...angie, dont let me slip. :)

10. i will blog more. my disclaimer is they may stink. i may have nothing to say or share, but i certainly wont let my lack of worthy material keep me from putting it out there. i have to make a more consistent effort. heres to mediocrity and a happy 2010.

almost right

so today, while attempting to call my brilliant and talented friend, natalie, i relied heavily on my crazy good memory. i recalled her digits from deep within the depths of my tired mind...a number i had not dialed in over 2 years (because im THAT awesome at keeping in touch). often wrong but never in doubt (as my incredibly perceptive dad likes to point out), i dialed. ring ring. ring ring. so a few more rings later and the voicemail kicks in. this message was so outlandishly stupid with the thickest, weirdest accent and strangest names imaginable, that i, remembering natalies adorable sense of humor, proceeded to ramble on a 5 minute message. no joke. of course i mentioned the 'clever' voice mail message noting the weird accent (afterall, she lives in south dakota) among other numerous details of my life before laughing once again at her creativity with the voicemail and finally hanging up. a few minutes passed when i thought to 'double check' my crazy good recall skillz with my contacts list. yes, i had her number in my contacts all along, but my phone was charging and i was so very sure of myself. blah blah blah. once i checked the number (merely for some ego stroking affirmation) i realized i was off by one number. just one. but...we all know thats really all it takes, right? so im waiting for freak show voicemail people to call me back anytime. ill keep you posted. sometimes i really impress myself with the level of dumb i somehow reach. good job, katie, that memory is almost as awesome as your judgment.

thanks peach

i can always count on georgia to lighten my mood. always. except between the hours of midnight and 6 am at which time my mood is on 'irritated' if im awake regardless of who you are. last week as a result of a routine check up at the eye doctors and not so routine appointment at the pediatricians office for 14 consecutive days of green snot, we were booked for both appointments with an hour and half between them. so doable, but not so much fun as i have become completely insane with the kids touching things in public places (i blame the media for my swine flu paranoia) and i have taken to hand sanitizing them at minute intervals in every waiting area imaginable. first up was the eye doctor where we were quickly ushered back from the waiting area with windows and armchairs (and finding nemo on the tv) into the dimly lit exam room with thousands of dollars of breakable eye equipment and one big chair that incidentally goes up and down if you dance around the pedals long enough. not a huge deal, we were after all the first appointment past the lunch hour (score!) and both kiddos are typically pretty awesome at this kind of thing. pretty awesome for awhile. not so awesome for an HOUR. no joke.

within the hour, we had successfully given the exam room an extreme kid makeover complete with 233 cheerios on the floor, an elmo phone, a sippy cup and several pacis, all of which i was picking up, wiping off and handing back to the bored lump while simultaneously trying to pick up the shower of cheerios and hide the evidence we had broken the absurd 'please no eating and drinking in exam room' rule. i was mildly distracted (read all but standing on my head to keep jack happy) when gk gets my attention with, 'mommy, the chair is way up high.' why yes it was. way up. as in i thought we may have broken it for a brief minute until gk showed me how to make it come down. apparently we had been in there long enough for her to learn the ropes on some of the equipment. im guessing a few more minutes and she could have given herself, jack and i all a thorough eye exam. so, an hour into it with me now sweating and swaying with the 25 lb jack in my arms while ripping open every fruit snack in my purse in an attempt to make all the eye crap seem less tempting to the peach, id had enough. as in...so sick of practicing my patience i could just about scream. and then i made a huge mistake. i opened the door. the one that they close immediately after putting you in there. the one that provides a layer of protection between you and them when youve had enough of the insane wait time. the one that offers an element of privacy and mystery while your left there to simply check your watch and count the minutes until you hear the footsteps finally stop outside your door and the chart finally get picked up and then...then the door knob turns and you are seen at last!! well...i opened the door. when my look of 'please help me, im dying in here with the little people' didnt get anyones attention, i started walking down the hall toward the waiting area. i had the appearance of someone just venturing off a deserted island where there was plenty to eat but the conditions were brutal. as we turned the corner into the bright shiny happy waiting area that now smelled like freedom, gk yelled, 'they have nemo out here!'. yes, gk, they do. but we have a really expensive chair that goes up and down...isnt that fun?

at this point there is no one heading my way with a life boat or cocktail and i reluctantly head back to the exam room where we happen to pass the good doctors office. where his door is open. where he is on the phone. scheduling a TEE TIME for the upcoming weekend. it is on. we get back to the cell and wait another five minutes until the doctor finally joins us. he was so chipper, probably imagining the fun hed have on the course in a few quick days while we on the other hand were now resembling survivors of some horrible experiment where they put you in a room full of germs and crap that could cost you money if you break it with little light and nothing to do with small children by yourself for over an hour. and for added fun, they add in loads of snot dripping from the children. nice. anywho i explain in the nicest tone i could find (which is always fast and unnaturally high pitched when im hiding my livid side) to the tiger woods wannabe that i would love to chat but we now had 15 minutes to make it to our next appointment to check on ear infections, pneumonia and other fun stuff. he kindly rushed through his exam, kept the dumb jokes to a minimum and assured us the peach is doing quite well. as he was turning to leave he tells gk 'goodbye' at which time she says, 'goodbye. now we're going to see the REAL doctor.' he mentions that he is in fact a doctor. she laughs. literally laughs and says, 'no, i mean the doctor doctor. the one who makes me feel better.' normally i would have corrected her. normally i would have fallen over myself with some witty explanation. not after an hour. nope. this time we just left it like that and headed toward freedom on the outside of the exam room.

the not so great outdoors

let me start by admitting in complete and total honesty im a total poser when i appear to be enjoying myself in the great outdoors. i own northface and merrells. i can rock nothing but chapstick for a day or two and ive been known to take a shower with nothing but a few baby wipes, but i pretty much hate every second of it. its not my thing. sure, i have romanticized the crap out of the IDEA of camping...campfires, shooting stars, crisp mountain top sunrises with nothing but the birds keeping me company. the problem is the reality of it...bug bites, crappy coffee, a hard ground, gear to haul around like mules, limited wardrobe changes, non existent shower facilities (and let me just say right here for you crazy 'oh there are campgrounds with showers and bathrooms...i say boo to you...really? i know theyre not clean, and while running water may constitute a shower to you, i require a bit more, like steaming hot water, clean tiles and soap that smells good enough to snack on). and of course theres the beginning of time dilemma of where and how do you pooh in the woods...and why of course you cant pooh for days on a camping trip. ah yes. and tava, we cant all have fifth wheels. soooo, back to why camping sucks and more importantly why its on the brain tonight...

i once thought patrick and i should go camping and like all new ideas of mine, i got overly excited and eager about the accessorizing part. i spent loads of time researching tents, perusing up and down aisles everywhere from rei to target wondering what the perfect tent would look like for us. thank God i had the opportunity to go camping in a tee pee in aspen for a few days because i immediately realized that our perfect tent looked identical to a room at the hilton. there were porta potties (which are really just little caves i refer to as hell deterrents as i imagine hell is one big giant porta potty that everyone in hell has to use and spend all their time next to) and sleeping bags and of course baby wipes. it was a fabulous opportunity to spend time with amazing students and it saved patrick and i a boatload of money because if it wasnt for that trip we would be the proud owners of all things camp like and it would all be brand spankin new.

needless to say, our sweet kids will get their love of the outdoors from some other people which remain unknown to us at this current time because we pretty much roll with people like us. however, this week i did have a brief opportunity to share with georgia a camping experience. on our way home from running errands, i, in an attempt to reward some outstanding behavior suggested we travel to a new playground. one far from our house and in the woods. brilliant. we arrived at the hidden playground to find one mama watching over her 4 year old little boy climbing on the slide. georgia was thrilled, i was thrilled. fast forward 20 minutes into our excursion. other mama and i have made enough small talk that i know she is tired and relieved to have 2 of her 3 boys in school while monkey child hangs and swings from every piece of playground equipment. jack is happily swinging in the swing and the peach is enjoying the tunnel slide. all is well. at this time the peach mentions, 'mommy, i have to go potty'. i said, 'okay, no big deal. lets pack up and go home and i promise we can come back later today or another day.' to which my natural born used car salesman replies, 'actually, i really dont have to go.' fast forward 48 seconds....'mommy, actually, i have to go poop and i have to go right now.'

several things flashed through my mind and i was left with only one choice. i looked to the other mama and said something like, 'can you make sure no one takes my baby from the swing while i take my daughter to poop in the woods?' these are words i really never thought id utter and yet, here i was, leaving my infant in the care of a stranger to take my peach into the woods to poop. i hate camping. once in the woods, the ever inquisitive georgia asked, 'what do i do?' to which i answered, 'well, honey, you just poop. right here. under this lovely tree.' she looked at me like she was waiting for me to say just kidding. when i didnt, she said, 'well, i guess im fine with that.' so she pooped. and of course she wanted toilet paper. geez, georgia, right now toilet paper and some hand sanitizer would really make my day too, but what we have is a leaf, so here you go. double eww. at this point all i wanted was a hot shower in my clean bathroom with this whole disgusting experience behind me. so we headed back to the swings to find jack happily, obliviously swinging. he was laughing at us like, 'i get to poop on myself. its so much easier.' i thanked stranger lady profusely for preventing any abduction of the lump and we called it a day. and while im no camper, the peach may just be...on the way home i overheard her talking to her baby doll and it went something like this...'so, baby, one day when youre big like me, you can poop in the woods too. its really pretty cool.' ugh.

hodgepodge

every now and then i have a few things to share...some isolated incidents that are worth mentioning. and while none of them on their own is worthy of an entire post, when combined, i think they just might be. first of all, i just spent a wonderful weekend in williamsburg, va with my 3 college roomies. i took away a few things from the 24 hours spent together drinking wine and reliving days that are further behind us than any of us would really like to admit. williamsburg really is a nice little city full of pancake houses and historical reenactments. woo. instead of getting our history swagger on, we opted for laser tag, a visit to the winery and a record trip down to a bar on the one hip strip in the burg. laser tag:: super fun. ive played before and had a great time, but this time was even more fun thanks to the group of 15 8 year old boys out for blood. at one point one of them yelled at me when i missed an open shot on my best friend (on the opposing side) by screaming, 'shes blue shes BLUE!!! this isnt boys against girls, lady, its red AGAINST BLUE!!'. awesome. gotta love that enthusiasm. at that moment i was relieved that we werent in real combat (hed clearly be way too trigger happy) and of course that i have a son who i hope to one day have running around with guns yelling at random strangers with the same adrenaline filled conviction.

also, i know williamsburg isnt that southern by southerners standards, but seriously...i have a suggestion for all of you southern drivers on the highway....are you listening? rain is not the same as ice and you are not driving sugar cubes. please stop flicking boogers on my happy place behind the wheel and proceed at the speed you were just lollygagging at prior to raindrops falling on your windshield. this is not dangerous. this is not reckless. it is actually keeping you safer because those of us just passing through are raging at your sudden braking over the precipitation.

after spending the afternoon and night at the winery, we were tired and thankful for malena, our rockstar server who not only gave us great service with free wine and cookies, but also safely delivered us all back to our hotel when our lame cabbie never showed. at this point we all wanted to put on fat pants and relax in our room. that would make sense. but like a group of convicts just escaped from prison, we didnt want to waste even a minute of our precious freedom. so we boarded the bus to abilene, called another cab and ventured downtown with some nice turkish driver from istanbul here on a student visa at william & mary. i know you dont care, but being the big loser that i am, and having just watched patrick spend an entire year working on his thesis on muslim extremists, i was actually really curious to know what this guy thought of the terror threats abroad, specifically the extremist views in his home country of turkey. thank goodness i had a fleeting moment of situational awareness and simply shut up and color. i find it thoroughly amusing that my situational awareness on my girls night out now keeps me from chatting up the cab driver with current topics as opposed to other things. lets just say we've come a long long way.

once comfortably seated on high barstools created for the arse of a 12 year old, we promptly ordered waters and some bar food. this began the 30 minute litany of complaints and criticisms of our server by each of us. he was rude, rushed, didnt make small talk and rarely visited our table. hmmm. after a brief moment of clarity it occured to me it could be because we are at a BAR....ordering WATER....with a server who is serving, bartending and probably trying to pick up the table of COLLEGE chicks over there. im going to go out on a flimsy limb here, but i think we could finally be moving beyond this stage of our life at last. i mean really, when our topic of conversation at a bar revolves solely around our crappy service, we may be out of our zone. so we ate our crappy food, drank our tap water and called mr. istanbul to pick us up. home sweet home by 11, just in time to catch 9 hours of sleep before hitting a pancake house. an altogether great weekend with the best of friends. and no rain on the way home. perfect.

hookers

let me assure you my next post will have nothing to do with the little people...it will most certainly be about my recent decision to pay to have my arse kicked on a regular basis....yes, i have in fact hired a personal trainer and have been unable to brush my teeth since our first workout. the perk is that it is also difficult to get the spoon full of dublin mudslide ice cream to my mouth as well.

however, as anxious as i am to share my riveting and painful gym experience with you, today i have to tell you the position i found myself in just a few short hours ago. three days ago, while playing with jack, georgia informed me that the plastic clips that hook toys on strollers, carseats and trays are in fact called, hookers. i found this pretty funny as any mother easily entertained by her 3 year old would but didnt think much more about it.

but, today, at the eye doctors (gold star for anyone who knows what theyre called AND can accurately spell it) georgia mentioned to the kind doc that her brother likes hookers. yep. AND that he shares them with her because (of course) hes a good sharer. sure, this is amusing. this is entertaining off the cuff at its finest, but she saved the best for last when she blurted out, 'yep, when i lay all the hookers out on the blanket, my brother loves playing with them.'

the doctor mentioned he thought he could finally retire as he had in fact finally heard everything. nice. thanks gk....the smiles never end and we are eternally grateful for every last one of them.

SHIaTsu

i know ive been lazy and neglecting the blog...its not for lack of want or material, its merely a lack of time issue. the precious minutes that i usually carve out for my therapy on this site have been spent reading (how ive missed it!!) and napping (which btw has become so rare, im not even that good at it anymore). however, this week we were able to sneak down for a quick visit with good friends who happen to live in a colonial paradise just outside of williamsburg. we thought we would cram in one final trip before they move south to alabama in a few short weeks. how quickly and easily i forget the fun and convenience of guests who choose to visit right at the peak of a stressful move...yes, i have become that friend.

within the hour we arrived, gk managed to lose the battle with her top button and pee right next to the toilet while jack peed through his diaper for the first time in months. finally after getting the little people bathed and quietly in bed (no small feat when they are sharing a room and the oldest is convinced that no bedtime routine is complete without a minimum of 10 questions and the little one is desperately trying to cut his first teeth) i came downstairs to see patrick enjoying a relaxing conversation, glass of wine and none other than a brookstone shiatsu massager on his back. (this is not to imply he wasnt helpful...he had just beat me back downstairs by a mere 5 minutes and while i was amazed at how quickly he managed to assume the 'happy and relaxed' position, i knew that with the same determination i, too, could achieve the same euphoria within moments).

once the shiatsu massager was available (guilted from his hands no less) i positioned it right between my shoulder blades and located the on switch. let the stress melt away and the relaxation begin. listen, this thing is no substitute for a great massage, but the two round balls applying strong pressure in a circular motion on my shoulders was pretty darn nice. for almost 2 whole minutes. this would be a good time to mention that im growing my hair out for locks of love...it is annoyingly long...even longer than usual and while im tempted on a daily basis to cut it myself, i am committed to doing this locks thing with a close friend whose mama is battling breast cancer these days.

so just as i was beginning to enjoy this shoulder massage i felt a slight tug on my hair. the slight tug grew into a strong pull and within seconds my hair was being wrapped around the balls of the massager. i yelled S***...how do you turn this thing off?? patrick, all relaxed and what not, jumped over to where i was and attempted to locate the off switch. thankfully, he momentarily did before accidentally pushing it too far which merely changed the direction of the rotation. at this point my hair was wrapped so tightly around the balls that they were at my scalp and i was straight up panicked. jason (co owner of the torture device) ran over and turned it off. i had not been this relaxed since the moment before my epidural took effect and i began to wonder if i was going to be cutting my hair off at the scalp. this would be another good time to mention that rayna, (primary owner of torture device) is an incredible photographer who so kindly was planning on shooting some family pics the following day. perfect. newly shaven head just 15 hours before professional pics. jason began to try and extract mangled mane while i lay still with shiatsu massage securely attached to my head. are you kidding me?? who does this kind of crap really happen to? pat assisted with 'oohs' and 'ahhs' and 'oh crap, katie, that looks really bad' while jason continued to try and extract all 16 inches of hair from this thing that i now felt had actually attempted to take my life and could only get to my hair.

jason suggested we try and disassemble the killer balls and set my thoroughly relaxed self free. with a little gentle pulling (similar to some beach tug of war) the balls were removed and i was FREE. i was a tangled and tense mess, but i was at least finally separate from the device that moments earlier had made a noteworthy attempt on my life. within a couple of minutes i, too, was in possession of a glass of wine enjoying a fabulous conversation that consisted of no less than five references to how thankful i was to be free of the shiatsu massager. jason, thank you again for saving my life.

i should know better

im not quite sure what my issue is as of late. perhaps its the daily struggle to shower or more accurately disguise the fact i havent..thank goodness for hats, pony tails and bronzer...they go a long way in times of hygiene drought. but im realizing after the liquid liner ordeal, the threading fiasco and now my most recent attempt at upgrading my blah self that i may have a problem.

all i had to do was pick up a prescription for the peach. thats it. there was nothing else in that entire cvs that needed my time or attention. however, i could not resist the magnetic pull to the cosmetic aisle. why?? i have no idea. i have already confessed i rotate my wardrobe between 4 exciting colors...black, grey, white and brown. i avoid prints and patterns and havent changed my limited cosmetic routine since 8th grade when i did, in a moment of fleeting adolescent clarity, finally quit wearing electric blue eyeliner (there was an audible collective sigh by my parents). but in spite of my unwillingness to change anything permanently, i am more than willing to throw money away on countless possibilities...like the silver mac eyeshadow that looks awesome if your rocking wings down a victorias secret runway or the shimmerific bronzer that looks like i rolled my nose in georgias glitter. and then theres the smudge liner intended to give you a smoky eye, which leaves me looking more like a strung out heroin addict without the waif like frame.

but here i was again, dangerously sampling every product under the sun imagining all of the possible scenarios in which they wouldnt leave me looking like a clown. i walked up and down each aisle until something shiny caught my eye. hmmm. lip inflation. sounds fun. i noticed it was very glossy and looked fabulous on the model...as if theyd really try and sell their product with an eye catching ugly chic. it was even packaged in gold. must be nice. i tossed it in my basket along with some butterscotch chapstick (i know its completely pathetic that i cant even resist desserts when i cant eat them) and some water proof funky brush mascara.

once home i retreated to the bathroom to begin sampling my new treasures. first, the butterscotch chapstick. yum. it smelled so wonderful i added cookies to my mental shopping list. then i applied the water proof mascara which had a brush that looked like a sea creature...wth? is this seriously supposed to work? trusting the experts in cosmetic land, i applied a quick coat. too quick. it ended up on no less than 3 places other than my eyes. hmm. i began the tried and true quick dab method at which time it smudged and became permanently affixed to my fingers as well. no biggie. i began vigorously rinsing my hands under the sink only to realize this mascara was staying firmly put. after rubbing the spots on my face, the only evidence that it was working were the red marks that now surrounded the sharpie like mascara spots. nice. without the patience to mix up the turpentine to remove my mascara i moved onto the gold lip inflation. i applied one coat, then two. it smelled like cinnamon and was super shiny. how nice. for a brief moment i was able to avert my eyes from the sharpie spots and see the shiny gloss. i was happily thinking 2 out of 3 is better than my usual odds when i began to feel the burn. super fire hot burn. my lips were on fire. i wanted to stop drop and roll in the sink. i grabbed a towel and wiped my mouth, hoping that the blistering sensation would end.

and it did after scrubbing the top layer of skin off of my lips. what began as an enthusiastic attempt at subtle change ended with me looking like a victim of an attack by a drunk monkey with a sharpie and piece of sandpaper. mark my words...i am DONE with change. done. keep me accountable to that statement if you happen to hear me discussing any of the latest and greatest in cosmetics. ive decided they are all lies aimed at inflicting mass torture on already tired and hopelessly insecure women. or is that just me??

threading

there are three things that instantly make me feel a thousand times better about myself...i would love to say its kind gestures from a thoughtful mate (like the roses that arrived last week) or words of affirmation from a sweet three year old (like the 'youre a great valentine' props from the peach), but unfortunately im just not that great of a person. the three things that always make me feel better are: a tan, freshly waxed eyebrows and a shift down (ever so slight) on the scale. its that simple. im that simple. so last week while out with a friend when she mentioned this new threading thing she had done to her brows, my interest was peaked. i decided then that the first opportunity i had sans little people, i would try out this new and exciting brow shaping thing.

four days later i found myself in an interesting salon (i use 'salon' very loosely as there was the faint smell of possum urine and hazy green smoke lingering) without an appointment. nice woman from nepal puts down some strange cuisine and comes over just as the smell was having me reconsider the whole thing. i explained i was a threading virgin and was up for the thrill of manicured brows. it was at this moment with my excitement reaching an unnaturally climactic high that i realized i dont get out nearly enough. nepali chick realized it too and joining in my unnatural joy, enthusiastically led me to a seat. and while i was hoping for some cucumber water or tea, the ripped plastic chair and weird smell were all the ambiance i was going to get.

she jerked my head back and began rubbing my brows before threading a long piece of string through her fingers and...mouth. at this point i closed my eyes and happily imagined aveda like thoughts. she kindly explained i would need to hold my brow area taut to make her job a bit easier. fine. no more pretending i was somewhere else, i now had to actively participate in this fun. whatever. at this point there is some rapid ripping of brow hair going on and it is only the thought of what might happen if i move keeping me stiff and still as a board in the seat. she says something about me being 'strong lady' and 'handle pain well' as she continues tearing hair out at an alarmingly fast rate. never one to just shut up and color, i cannot resist the urge to chime in with 'well, i did have a baby not too long ago'...ha ha ha. lame, i know and pretty stupid since at the time of having a baby i had no feeling in my body, was ready to run away with my anesthesiologist and wouldnt have known the difference between birthing a baby human or elephant calf. anyway, she finishes up with one brow and while there is still a slight stinging sensation going on the entire side of my face, im not about to cut this session short with one brow looking great and the other looking like ive just spent 3o days on survivor. besides, after having my pain tolerance talked up, im feeling a wee bit over confident. mostly because im an idiot and partly because its just that easy to stroke my fragile ego.

and so begins the other side. or as i now refer to it, 'the side of hell'. within moments of me once again holding my brow taut for the brow ripping, i realize the only thing keeping my entire body from flinching out of the chair is the flexing of every muscle i have. i begin to remember one of the girls at the salon i worked at in college telling me everyone has an 'easy' brow and a 'hard' brow. basically one that lets go of the hair easier and one that doesnt. clearly, we have just discovered which is which for me. nice lady now starts saying things like, 'tearing is very normal' and 'this wont take much longer' and finally, 'a lot of people cry a bit'. nice. im not crying, i simply cannot control the excessive watering that is now coming from my eye.

the good news is, they really look much better than a wax, there is no redness (although based on the pain level, i was surprised there wasnt blood dripping from my face) and she assured me that it would be less painful next time. yes, but will it still smell like possum piss?

mama told me...

there would be days like this. days where you rushed into the shower for the first time in 2 days only to realize afterwards that in your haste to finish while baby screamed and toddler stood guard asking a relentless series of questions regarding said shower that you forgot to rinse the conditioner from your locks. now you look like a shaved version of you only with incredibly greasy hair. you hop effortlessly back into the shower with mascara left from the night before streaming down your face to rinse the conditioner out.

after uber relaxing shower, you manage to remove the alice cooper look only to replace it with that liquid liner you just had to buy last week at macys against all reasonable and better judgment...(why is it that when you are feeling the yuckiest, ie, 10 lbs heavy you think its time to experiment with hair/makeup/wardrobe?? as if lining your eyes and cutting your hair will somehow distract you from the discomfort of your jeans...) anyway, liquid liner does look great when that smokin hot professional make up artist applies it. looks a little less great when frazzled under slept and over caffeinated in a rush and completely distracted mama does it...gk even mentioned, mama, what are you doing with your face? thanks, babe.

its onto feeding the baby, packing the back pack and heading to preschool. thank goodness wednesday is a half day so i dont have to pack lunch for the peach. what a relief to have those extra few minutes...except, georgia goes to school on tuesday...which i remembered when i walked in and saw all the responsible parents carrying lunch boxes packed with im sure well balanced super nutritious lunches. its one thing for the people that know me to see my imperfections (which are plenty and hard to miss) its a totally different story when strangers see me fail...and i know its just a lunch and i know others have certainly felt this inadequate, but i have a thing with appearing irresponsible and negligent to people who dont know me. more on that major issue in another post...

so, wonder woman who runs the show at the preschool offers to save the day and grab my kid a happy meal for lunch. perhaps she senses the tone of my day as i bend down to retrieve wallet out of 50 lb diaper bag only to have it slide off my shoulder and slam into sleeping infants face. nice. hungry 2 year old? check. screaming infant? check. sweating, fumbling dotted liquid liner mommy? check.

relieved to have one child in responsible care for a few hours, i head out for a bit of retail therapy...ie rushed errands with just one kid. this turns into me bouncing a crying baby in some aisle where im sure i could find something to buy if i wasnt completely preoccupied with the crying baby. this would be a good time to mention that jack has almost convinced me that any area of our floor and surface of his crib/cradle/swing/bouncy seat/activity mat potentially has an electrical current flowing through it. it seems the only safe place current free is in my arms. which is good, because ive found its hard to open up the tub of ice cream and eat it with one hand...however, super easy to dip chips and salsa..so i digress.

with errands complete and one child nursed (in a display chair at target...i NEVER thought i would be THAT woman) i call it a day. the rest of the afternoon unfolds as seamlessly as the morning and in the craziness of the day i manage to finally put jack down for a nap in his crib. what a success...he sleeps out of my arms for 7 whole minutes!! woo hoo.

so, im spent. worn out after doing virtually nothing..didnt even pack the lunch. but, in the midst of it all, georgia starts naming off all of her friends from school. when i ask her who her bestest friend is, without hesitation she answers, 'you, mommy, you are'. please give me more days like this where i can rush and fail and endure the frenzy and at the end of it all have it all.

excuses and exhaustion

we have been lucky. unbelievably lucky according to some. gk has been in a toddler bed, free of the baby jail known as a crib for nearly 4 months. without even the threat of invisible crocodiles on her floor or an electric wire, she has NEVER gotten out of her bed. until this week. now we have a 2 month old sleeping beautifully through the night and a 2 year old wearing us down like tire treads at indy. last night, her reasons (LAME excuses) for getting out of her bed were as follows::

1. i was just coming in to check on mommy...how thoughtful, if you really cared about your mommy your arse would be in your bed allowing her to get some much needed rest...the kind of rest that gives her the patience you have come to expect over the last couple of years.

2. i really dont like the scary shadows in my room, can you turn off my night light so they go away?...shadows are not scary, they are evidence that all the stuff you love to play with remains in your room even while youre sleeping, ready and waiting for you to wake up...

3. i really dont like the scary dark, can you turn on my night light so i can see?...this is the same light that creates those shadows...how about you just close your eyes when you see something you dont like?

4. i just wanted to come and snugoool....and on saturday morning after 8, you are more than welcome to climb into bed and snugool...however, at 5:20 am, snuggling is not an option for ANYONE in this bed.

5. um, i dont like my rocking horse looking at me...first of all, i dont think hes really looking at you, his head is facing down. second of all hes been in your room since december 26th 2006...its a little late to start faking fear of this one.

6. could you move my dresser into the hallway please? its just too big and scary...okay, remember the big guys who dripped sweat all over it carrying it up the stairs into your room? its not moving until they come back.

7. i have snots and need a tissue...this is legit. take the tissue to bed and use it until it can be squeezed like a towel. do not call for us until snot drips from it.

so, today, again im still caffeinating at 2:42 in the afternoon after a long night of sheer craziness. any and all suggestions are appreciated...there is nothing we wont consider at this point.

victory

you know youre life has taken a turn when your new moment of victory is not dropping an expletive when your two year old pulls back her toe nail and says, 'look, mommy, i have an owie...see it goes all the way back like this'. aaaaahhhhhh.

and this would not be the only noteworthy victory from the week...patrick and i pulled off a heist worthy of a james bond flick by extracting two pacis guarded as well as fort knox with just a little help from the paci fairy. oh yes. the withdrawal has been slightly better than a heroin addict in detox. no shakes or sweats, but a plethora of well thought out questions by our interrogator. the best was the first night of 'operation paci-free' when said interrogator summoned us to her room moments after bedtime to inform us that she was in fact in fear of the legendary paci fairy...that she 'wears a big hat and opens her mouth wide like a cow but doesnt say moo and thats scary'. i promise i did no drugs during my pregnancy. patrick assured her the paci fairy was rather small, had hands to drop gifts with and wings to fly away with. no big hats, big open mouths and nothing to be scared of. we are now 5 days paci free and while i dont need to stand on a ship with a crowd, i will happily hang a 'mission accomplished' sign and toast yet another significant victory.

making friends and marking territory

the other night our neighbor, being super nice and neighborly kindly lugged all of our trash that had not been picked up that day and brought it back from the curb for us to put out a couple of days later. this was no small task as we have been in the process of purging everything from light fixtures to boxes to full length mirrors (dont ask).

feeling grateful, i threw some cookies in the oven and sent pat and the peach over with a 6 pack of beer and warm cookies. thanks neighbor.

fifteen minutes later, the front door opens and i hear the smallest and sweetest of voices saying 'i had an accident, but daddy says ill get cleaned up and its no big deal.'

hmm. i had a moment where i briefly thought/hoped/prayed the accident meant spilled juice or melted cookie on a dress, but deep down i knew that would have been referred to as a mess, not an accident. gk and her daddy carefully climbed the steps into the living room and she proceeded to tell me in great detail that while next door, she had to go potty (and not knowing where the potty was) she opted for a pile of toys in the living room. 'i just went like this' she explained while spreading her legs hip width apart, 'just like this on the toys'.

ohhh. thats really all i could muster while trying not to laugh an all consuming laugh of amusement and pure embarrassment. i glanced at pat and thanked him for saying all the right things. this is a child who has made the potty training saga a virtual breeze and i dont want her to ever feel reprimanded or embarrassed because there was an accident. what significant accomplishment ever comes without a few setbacks?

'so, im going to go upstairs and get cleaned up and get my jammies on now'. and with that she exited stage right up the stairs with her dad following behind. a few minutes later she appeared again on the stairs and i thought id ask about something other than the accident...'so, georgia, what else did you do at our neighbors house?' 'mommy, member, i told you, i just peed on all their toys.' the speechless mommy took over and so she proceeded to repeat it again for me.

great. enough of that conversation. hope the cookies and beer were were good. next time we'll take over resolve, towels and a change of clothes.

moment of truth

there comes a point in every new mothers life when she must face none other than herself in a full length mirror without the safety of soft lighting and security and now well fitting maternity clothes (who knew even the darling huge tents you purchased at month 2 never believing you would actually fill them out would eventually be cutting off circulation and sliding off your mountainous belly by delivery) and acknowledge once and for all what they mean by 'baby weight'. what they really mean is everything in addition to the insignificant 8 lbs you drop by downloading precious life during delivery. the rest is what i call 'ben & jerrys' weight. we could all fill in the blank...for some it was bagels with mounds of cream cheese, others an endless supply of grilled cheese. but for me, it was dublin mudslide or peach cobbler by my favorite two vermontans (yes, i know thats not a word). and so, yesterday, against my better judgment (a completely overrated part of my self anyway) i did it.

after showering, i decided my moment of truth had arrived. while i knew it wasnt going to be pleasant (after all, what part of this entire process really is?) it was necessary. as necessary as my sick sacks for puking in public places and my epidural. so, in an instant, i dropped the towel and peeked. it is an image that is permanently seared in my mind. i will not go into details... most of you really dont want them anyway, but suffice it to say, things have changed. a lot. so, sopping wet, with milk dripping and mascara running i owned the months of ben and jerrys and now have a starting point. my first drastic measure is to stop wearing the now 'too big and uber comfortable' maternity pants. they give me a false sense of what really needs to be done as i have to continually pull them up. basically, anything with elastic needs to be off limits. unfortunately, i can hear my regular jeans laughing at me every time i even think about putting them on. but, put them (or more accurately pour them) on i will.

i picked my most forgiving pair. a roomy, stretchy pair by the brand seven that tends to be somewhat understanding of my current situation. i put my first foot through the leg and was pleasantly surprised it worked (as if my lower leg would really be the problem area). i pulled them up and while i did manage to pry them over my hips, i now had a button and a button hole a solid 4 inches from ever meeting. not to be deterred by logic or reality, i began pulling them together, willing them to meet again. and they did. barely. leaving me looking like jabba the hut in really nice jeans. how depressing. only my best friend suzy would issue this warning to patrick..."pat, put your safety goggles on, that button could pop at any given moment". ah yes. the truth teller. so, here i am elastic free with what im certain will be a permanent red mark around my waist. and im only mildly uncomfortable...just enough to remind me to put down the vanilla wafers and grab a carrot stick instead. the joys of motherhood....

cell phones behaving badly

i love technology. i really do. particularly in the incredibly small doses that i currently have it in my life. i enjoy reading some blogs, shopping and researching online, keeping my ipod up to date and being available by phone 24 hours a day.

the cell phone has to be the greatest invention next to velcro and maybe stretch denim and while my phone (like every other piece of technology in my life) will always remain smarter than i am, with countless features i will never bother to learn, much less use, it is a welcome fixture in my life. and while i may never understand how it really works, i do know that towers are involved, roaming is no longer an issue and they function best if they have not been exposed to water.

water would be what caused the latest malfunction of my cell phone...actually my moms cell phone that was in my care for the weeks leading up to my stateside cell phone purchase...which is now complete if you need my number.

in order to complete the loan paperwork for our home purchase (which is also complete if you need my address) i needed to contact the county courthouse in omaha, nebraska to have a few documents faxed relating to the sale of our last home. sounds simple enough. i realized the morning i needed to make these calls that the phone had been sitting in a wee bit of water all night long, but somehow was still able to dial the necessary numbers and hold the connection long enough for me to make my requests to denise in omaha. simple enough. i hung up, went outside and began a morning of sidewalk chalk and coffee.

an hour later i came inside and heard voices. not the kind youre thinking...i followed the sound to the cell phone which was closed but talking. there was a clearly annoyed voice saying something about 'who IS this??' i picked up the phone to see who had last been called and it was kind denise at the county courthouse. kind denise did not sound particularly kind. i was about to check the rest of the call history when it started ringing again in my hand...not for me to answer, but for someone else being called by the phone in my hand. i tried to hang up, to stop the call, to even turn the phone off, but to no avail. it was denise again sounding thoroughly angry and wanting to again know who was calling. finally, she hung up and i was able to check the call history. oh. my. gawww. there were 97 calls to the courthouse. 97!! as in three shy of 100, which quickly became 2 shy as it again started ringing in my hand. CRAP. i took the battery off the back to avoid call number 98 and began wondering what i should do.

i waited a few minutes before putting the battery back on and turning the possessed phone on. as soon as it was powered up, calls 99 and 100 were placed. clearly i had pushed the courthouse office to a point where someone was probably going to get hurt. i wondered if there was some poor employee who had just gone through a break up and some ex was wrongly being blamed for all the calls or even worse.

so, crazy cell phone was disabled again and we called the provider who graciously removed all the calls from our bill and talked us through ways to trouble shoot the issue. the phone dried out and hasnt caused any problems since.

the next day, denise actually called me and mentioned there had been a problem faxing one of the documents to me the day before. she apologized perfusely for not calling me sooner, but explained they had been having major phone issues the day before. i told her it was perfectly okay and that i completely understood. i was only tempted for a brief moment to disclose my part of the phone issues but quickly decided against it. im still wondering if full disclosure falls into the new truth leaf ive been turning over. im thinking it doesnt. at least not this time.