Things I've Learned This Week

• Williams-Sonoma Meyer Lemon hand soap and hand lotion is totally worth the price.


• Williams-Sonoma Meyer Lemon hand soap will not, however, remove the smell of vomit from a 4 year old's favorite teddy bear.


• Being in a funk and being in a funky groove are nowhere near the same thing.


• More exercise, better food, and fresh air will not cure my funk.


• Long, funny conversations with a wonderful friend that make me late for picking up my son, will bring on a funky groove.


• In the retail world, Easter is already over.


• Sometimes, a cigarette really does help.


• Shopping for little girls is wading into a swamp of gender stereotype issues. Thank goodness I have boys.
• Toddlers will eat an entire strawberry, green parts included, if given an entire strawberry. At least mine will...

That Karma...She's a Bitch

Monkey Man called early in the day yesterday to invite me down to the University Main Gate. Our babysitter and her younger brother were going to be playing in a jazz band at 6:30 so he figured we could meet there, have a bite to eat, let the boys listen to the music. One more night I could avoid cooking dinner - great plan!

I'd been having a completely bipolar day with the boys. One minute I'm getting kisses and thinking about how I'm the luckiest woman in the whole world. The next minute I'm contemplating abandoning them at Target. I'm not terribly cruel - they'd have lots to do and plenty to eat. I was looking forward to sitting down for a few minutes and letting Monkey Man chase Quake's conversations and just literally chase Cha-Cha.

There's a small brew pub across the street from where the jazz band was playing, and Monkey Man had left work a little early to catch a beer with our babysitter's dad (with whom he works). I fight through terrible post-work, pre-party traffic, get the car parked, get the stroller and the kids together, and then contemplate how I'm going to get the whole shebang to the second floor of the brew pub where the grown-up boys are... Ah, look! There's an elevator!

Quake loves elevators. He pushes the buttons for me. We go to the second floor...

Nothing happens.

The elevator goes back to the first floor. I laugh, tell Quake someone else must have pushed the button making the elevator go down before the doors had a chance to open. We arrive on the first floor...

Nothing happens.

Quake pushes #2 again. We go up. We stop...

Nothing happens.

I tell Quake to push the "open doors" button. You guessed it...

Nothing happens.

I calmly peruse the elevator button panel looking for the call button when my phone rings. Cell service in an elevator? Now that's a miracle. It's Monkey Man, wondering where we are. I tell him we're on the elevator, that I think we might be stuck. He thinks I mean the elevator is just really slow. He pushes the button for the elevator, and...

Nothing happens!

You know it's not broke until a man can't get it to work.

I got to spend 20 minutes in an elevator with two small children I wasn't particularly fond of at the given moment. One of whom was a bit frightened, the other one starving. And me without fish crackers - bad mommy!

And then, they didn't even offer us free beers. Bastards.

Soccer is Hell

Oh, thank goodness the evil-that-is-soccer is over. Your kids love soccer? You love taking them to soccer? You love hanging out at the games and cheering on your little tyke? Good for you! Now I no longer have to pretend that I'm just like you. So far Quake has shown no interest in continuing with this experiment. Although he has been wearing his medal around the house. And to the grocery store.

I'm thinking about getting a whole batch of those suckers made up. I could give him one for every week of the summer during which I don't consider locking him out of the house. Now there's a competition I could get behind! Go team!

Preschooler and Their Pets

In case you can't quite make it out, that is a plastic spider. I found it making a home for itself in the phone pocket of my purse. Do I need to point out that I almost jumped out of my skin the first time I saw it there? Do I also need to explain why, after the skin jumping incident, it remained in my purse for a good two months? If I could figure that one out I'm sure my life would make a lot more sense to me too.

Go, Team!

Yes, well, getting back into the swing of things around here has proved just a teensy bit more difficult than I had originally imagined. I've been moping through my days feeling sorry for myself because Monkey Man was so busy at work, and I'm tired, damn it!

Plus I'd been dreading the soccer-day-from-hell that had been planned for me yesterday. Quake had pictures at 10:30, then a game at noon and a game at 1pm. Two hours of soccer for a 4 year old? That's about 90 minutes more than he's interested in playing. Then Monkey Man told me he had band practice at 1. Then the nice man on the news told me it was going to be 90 degrees. Then I dissolved in a puddle of god-I-hate-being-a-soccer-mom-itis.

It was almost as bad I thought it was going to be. Monkey Man's cousin drove down from Phoenix to see Quake play so at least I had an extra hand to help with Cha-Cha (2 hours of soccer in which he is not allowed to participate is just about 120 minutes more than he's interested in watching). But the weather? Even if Quake wanted to play again, I'd tell him there was no more soccer until next November. And then I'd tell him all the parks were closed until then too. I guess it's a blessing that all he really wanted was the uniform.

Look Before You Sit

I had nightmares as a child that a snake or crocodile would come up through the toilet and bite my ass. Actually I'm pretty sure I was still afraid of that as a young adult. At least when I was drunk. These days we should all probably be afraid of tiny little cameras, but that's a topic for another day.

Apparently I should have been afraid of plastic fish and octopus combs. Thank you Cha-Cha, but this is not just a small bathtub. At least he didn't try to flush them. And I found them before the 3am-in-the-dark piss.

How To Know If Your Toddler* Will Make You Gray

The boys were taking a bath tonight (I like them to get clean a few times a season). Cha-Cha starts crawling out of the tub, which is usually Cha-Cha-speak for "I'm done!" I sit an arms length from the tub because Cha-Cha? He likes to splash. Big splashes. The splashing? Not so good for whatever book or magazine I'm reading at the moment. So as I reach over to help the baby, who is not adverse to flinging himself onto the bathroom rug, he slips and rolls into the water.

Just a note here. Unlike many parents I know, like, let's say a certain father who may or may not live in this house, I do not panic at these moments. Contrary to popular myth, the child will not drown in the 3 seconds it takes me to fish him out of the water. Do not email me to tell me what a terrible mother I am. I read while my kids take a bath - I already know I'm a bad mother.

Before I can get my arm in the tub, Cha-Cha's head pops up. Is he coughing? Is he desperately struggling to get air into his water filled lungs? Is he crying? No, no, no, no, no. My dear, sort-of-sweet, devil of a child is laughing. Gleefully.

And he's also not done.

He spends the next 10 minutes putting a foot up on the edge of the tub and then "pretending" to fall back into the water. A few times he actually does slip, and I watch him roll into the water. And then I watch him pop up laughing. Every time, laughing. The game only ended when Cha-Cha decided it could be made infinitely better by actually getting out of the tub and then back in. Even I'm not lazy enough to let him do that.

Cha-Cha will probably never be an easy child, but he's always fun.

*I am so not ready for Cha-Cha to be a toddler. Since he has decided to not talk, I've decided he's still a baby. And will be at least until he starts to drive. Or goes to college. Or turns 30.

Once Again Proving My Lazy Status

Yesterday we resorted to using swim diapers. Because driving the 4 miles to Walmart? Too.fucking.hard.

Just so you know, swim diapers will not hold an entire nights' worth of pee. In case you were curious. Or as lazy as me.

In Which I Stomp My Feet And Pout

It's Rodeo time here in wonderful, oh-my-god-is-really-90-in-Feb Tucson. Schools are shut down, which caused momentary panic, but Monkey Man has the time off too. Yeah! I don't have to lock the boys in a closet to keep myself from going insane! Monkey Man actually had to take the time off as his company tries to save money so they won't have to have a layoff, but I'm focusing on the positive. I get help with the kids, and he still has a job. Everybody wins!

We took a walk/bike ride/scooter ride as a family this morning. Family time? Not spent in front of a TV? Crazy. It was so much fun, I was grinning like a fool the entire time. Seems like this is something we should do more often. But in some sort of bizarre, upside-down way, it's often difficult to make ourselves do the things that bring us more joy. I'm working on that.

I've been spending some of my copious amounts of free time reading the archives over at The Happiness Project. Ms. Rubin's ideas about feeling good, feeling bad, and feeling right really resonate with me. Just like most depressives, I spend a lot of time and energy avoiding feeling bad (which sounds counterintuitive; that's why they call it crazy) and end up never feeling right.

This manifests in my daily life when I avoid doing all those little tasks that would greatly increase my satisfaction with life. Taking the dog for a walk, washing my face before I go to bed, blogging. I won't even start the discussion about exercising and eating better. Because (cue 3 yr old whiny voice), "I'm too tired... I deserve this treat... I DON'T WANT TO!" Yes it's true, being depressed often feels like having a very bad tempered 3 year old in your head all.the.time. And when she and the uber-critical Super Bitch start fighting...well it's really no wonder that getting out of bed just seems impossible some days.

So I created a list of 11 things I'd like to do on a daily basis that will increase my sense of feeling right, and I'm tracking them. I hope that developing these better habits will not only give me more satisfaction but also lead to further development of good habits. Even when I.don't.want.to! Habits like taking a family walk?

Why Are You Crying, Mommy?

Last week, while the boys were in the bathtub, Quake holds up the baby shampoo/soap* and says, "Mommy, can Cha-Cha use this soap?"


"Sure. Wait, why?"


"Because I want to wash his hair."


So I helped him wet Cha-Cha's hair, and he went to washing the baby's hair. He's on his knees, massaging the shampoo on Cha-Cha's head, saying, "Does that feel good, Cha?" I only cried a little bit.


*method baby squeaky green hair + body wash in rice milk + mallow - love it! You know I'm cheap so this must be fabulous if I'm willing to pay for it. It doesn't have that cloying baby powder smell, and the lid is a cup

They're Getting More Than My Blue Eyes

Earlier this week Cha-Cha ran off in the general direction of his brother at the school playground, and I lost sight of him. It's an entirely enclosed area, but Cha-Cha has a bad habit of wandering into any open door and joining the class in progress. I asked Quake where Cha-Cha went. The response? Not what I was expecting.

"He got in the car and drove away."

Yeah, go ahead, laugh it up. I did. It's hilarious. My own smart mouth has come back to bite my own smart ass.

Quake has since made several attempts at repeating the performance with little success. Until last night. When asked, "Hey, Quake, do you know where the remote control's at?" he barely pretends to acknowledge our existence, he says, "Cha-Cha put it in the toilet."

I'm so proud. Is that wrong?

Officially a Cliche

Life as I once knew it has come to an end. I am a...

Soccer mom!

Quake had his first practice Wednesday night and his games start next week. Oy. He's playing with the 5 and 6 year olds even though he doesn't turn 5 until April. He's still one of the three tallest on his team, but he's no longer the fastest. Athletics come quite easily to him - he totally gets that from me. Well, me in a previous life maybe. Shut up! It's my dream. The competition will be good for him. If it doesn't utterly destroy him. Just saying.

High waisted jeans, here I come...woohoo!

Closer to Home

Yesterday the bad news about the economy came knocking on our door. Monkey Man will be taking a 7% decrease in pay for at least the next 6 months. I am so grateful that he still has a job. And I can stop beating myself up about not feeling like we can afford to put Quake into private school next year...because there's no question about it now!

It's amazing how having kids has changed my view of the little things. Like recessions. I can no longer listen to or watch any news reports that talk about the economy. It just sends me into a tailspin. So now I can't watch TV or movies that use the abuse or neglect of kids as a narrative device, and I can't watch the news.

Cool. More time to persue my own personal growth as a human being who is not only a parent. Or more SpongeBob. Whatever.

Running on Unleaded

Why? Why, why, why, why, why? Am I up at 4am? For the second day in a row?

Meet my amazing baby, Cha-Cha, who doesn't need to sleep.

Which of course goes a long way in explaining why I've been so tired lately. But it turns out there's another reason...

I measured out the coffee grounds this morning, debating whether I should stick with a smaller pot (Monkey Man's currently in Japan) or go with a full one today. As I'm putting the lid back on the can, I glance down, and for some bizarre-ly random reason the word "Decaffeinated" catches my eye. WTF?! I've been drinking decaf for the last few weeks?!

My recent headaches? That I thought were related to the increase in my zoloft meds? Maybe something else entirely!

Why did I notice it now? I've made coffee a number of times since I bought the new can. And of course I bought it. And apparently I completely ignored the green markings on the can, universal symbol for unleaded.

On the upside...withdrawal not as bad as I would have imagined. And that new bag of candy cane kisses I got yesterday will comfot me nicely. OK, two bags. Who's counting?

I'm Like a Weeble!

We spent the weekend in Phoenix helping Monkey Man's cousin celebrate her 30th birthday. Her house is always a big hit with the 4 year old because she has a Wii. And really? What could be more wonderful to a preschooler already addicted to video games and obsessed with sports?

And she lets him drink Coke. It's kiddie heaven.

So she got the Wii Fit thingie for her birthday and much fun was had laughing at the adults who were often much worse at the activities than Quake. For those of you who haven't seen it in action, when you first get started it measures your "Wii age" based on some combination of your height, weight and balance ability on a quick succession of tests. Everyone else got ages 20 and 30 years above their real age. I managed to get a 37, only 1 year, actually 6 months, more than I currently am.

Losers! I may be fat, but I'm agile, damn it!

My mother will be so proud to know that all that money she spent on dance lessons finally paid off...

Did I Forget Something?

Today was parent-teacher conferences at Quake's new preschool. I admit that I was on my knees crying, "Why, God, Why?" when I found out that he wouldn't be going to school for two days, but then my babysitter called and said she had the week off too. See? God really does answer prayers.

Anyway, I left Quake at home. Yes, alone. He's already 4 for crying out loud. Oh right, I already mentioned the babysitter. Nevermind. But I took Cha Cha with me because Cha Cha? No so big on the whole being left with strangers thing. A category which includes his own father. To be fair, I sometimes like to pretend Monkey Man is a stranger too...

Was I in the middle of telling a story?

I'm listening to David Sedaris in the car (Books on CD from the library are my salvation. Amen.) so I'm snorting and wiping tears away when I pull up to the school. I manage to pull myself together by the time I get to Quake's classroom where I stop. Thinking. Something. Something. Something is missing...

Oh, right! The baby! Cha Cha was still snoozing peacefully when I got back to the car. And I'm officially a dumb-ass.

Stupid Baby Tricks

I discovered a new way to soothe a cranky baby last night.

Bacon.

Hoes Are Garden Tools...

Holy crapola! How did it get to be October?

Have you tried Pandora? It's this great internet radio site where you create your own station by telling the system which artists and songs you like. I've discovered that my musical tastes are just as schizoid as my choice in magazines. I've had to create a number of stations because it just can't seem to figure out any underlying theme to the songs I like. (note to Pandora developers: it's the lyrics, and yes, I know I'm strange)

The best part for me, because I'm admittedly not much of a music person (no one in my household owns an MP3 player or even sees the need for one), is getting to listen to really different music. Bust has great music reviews, and I've managed to find quite a few of the artists on the site. WooHoo, broadening my horizons!

So I'm enjoying some... sex-positive lyrics from Khia, when Monkey Man mentions that I might want to change the station. I turn down the volume to ask why (gonna give him a piece of my mind for not liking my new music) and realize that Quake is singing a line from the chorus. Pretty sure that language isn't acceptable at preschool...

Well I guess everyone is getting broadened horizons today!

Not So Good With The Chores...

Quake, my 4 year old, put on a pair of boxer shorts to wear as underwear yesterday. He usually wears them as pjs (just add a t-shirt too small to wear in public and you too can have cheap kid's pjs!), but it's not completely bizarre to see him dig out a pair for day-wear. So today I finally started the laundry from our trip to San Diego. Because we've been back for a week now. And I suppose that's long enough.

My child had no. clean. underwear. Bad Mommy! Bad!

Bad news: I'm a bad mommy and my son doesn't want to tell me I'm slackin'.
Good news: My 4 year old is a creative problem solver!

Do you think when he's older I can convince him that I taught by example and not by desperate need?

Time Is Not On My Side

I am feeling so completely overwhelmed these last few weeks. Nothing new really.

I started this class, Becoming More, over at Big Picture Scrapbooking. The first week has been all about defining my values, yadda, yadda, yadda. It's not like this is a new concept for me; my very first therapist had me read The 10 Natural Laws of Successful Time and Life Management. It's probably unbearably corny, but it actually helped. I bought myself a fancy planner, filled out all the worksheets, and got focused. That year I got re-involved in theater, planned a wedding long distance, and lost 30 pounds. Damn, now that I think about it, maybe I should dig that planner out of storage.

Anyway. Of course I'm realizing that how I'm behaving is not in-line with my values. Because that would make too much sense. If I was happy-warm-and-fuzzy, I probably wouldn't have been drawn to taking this class, now would I? The parenting thing is great. Yes, I need to be "present" more often, but that's a little tweak. The problem is the gaping hole in my life where all my creative pursuits should go.

I want to write, here and in other areas. I want to get some pictures scrapbooked. Oh, oh, oh, and actually, I don't know, edit and order some photos. I'm only 5 months behind. Taking photos would be great too. I also have this stack of craft projects I'd like to try just because I like trying new things. I also have a few canvases that I've been wanting to play with.

On the other hand, I haven't paid the bills (that was supposed to happen last Friday). I seriously need to get some exercise, not only because I'm turning into a cow, but because I feel like crap. And the dog is being seriously neglected. I have doctor's appointments to go to, groceries to buy, cards to send, laundry to wash...sigh. How do I take care of my family and take care of myself?