I am a Case Study in the Disadvantages of Google

Typical 2am, right?

My life right now is a lot more treading water than I would like it to be. It's a lot about keeping my head above water and a lot of questionably wasted energy going into the status quo. Apparently swimming against the current is my special, special art form. Why go with the flow when you can just fight the universe? *eyeroll*

When the hell will I learn, you guys?

Lately it's Kai. Gosh, and to my poor, amazing eldest son, it's probably always Kai. What can I say? Kai has just always been...Kai. Believe me, I know how horrible it is to compare your kids and blah blah blah, but this past two years has just been trying. But trying in ways that I practically predicted, and therefore [in the most neurotic part of my head] should have planned for better? I obviously always wish for things to be best case scenario though, so even saying out loud that they haven't, seems ungrateful. Because some kids have terminal illnesses and some kids never make it to see two, and some people are struggling with such unimaginable things and are still doing it better than me. 

Even before he was born, I worried about it. I worried about how we would deal with "starting all over" again. I had hyperbolic, tear-filled and pregnancy hormone related conversations with Sean where I guiltily questioned if we were doing the right thing. I mean, we were happy. We had one healthy, beautiful kid and we were lucky enough to know we were lucky. Why chance things? Why rock the boat? The answer then was the same that it is today though. Because our family wasn't complete, and because we had more to give.

Don't even start with the lecture on self fulfilling prophecies, but I always had a feeling that Kai was going to give us a run for our money. He was a high-maintenance fetus for crying out loud. With the first serious contractions at 31 weeks, with the weekly non-stress tests and multiple admissions just to "make sure" I wasn't going to go into labor early, I secretly knew this kid was something else. At 33 weeks, when I started really showing labor symptoms, I held my breath while staring at that ultrasound screen. Waiting for him to show that he was taking enough "practice breaths" to make the tech happy. While staring at the IV and hoping it could ease the contractions; When I was counting the kicks while hooked up to the monitors and hoping that he could just hold on awhile longer so there would be no NICU time. Each time I closed my eyes and prayed that his heartbeat would just do the right thing when I had those weeks of constant contractions, I knew he was different.   

It's been quite the road since then.  I can count the number of nights he's slept through on one hand. My days are measured in cups of coffee and I try my best to stay one step ahead of the constant motion, the constant demands, the silence that surely signifies trouble. I've been in the pediatricians office more in one month with him than I had in one year with Kelan. He's had 9 ear infections now, not to mention the milk allergy, sinus infections, eczema, influenza, you name it I've lost sleep to it.

Our biggest test comes this week. We heard the dreaded words, "delayed development" at his 18 month check and since then it's been a lot of worry, planning, and hoping with him. I find myself getting frustrated when communication is just not coming. We all are, Kai included. So on Thursday he's being evaluated again. Therapists will come in our apartment and check boxes on their sheets to see whether or not he is "delayed" enough for concern. I have no predictions. I have endless worries, fear of some inane diagnosis, but no answers.

So I Google. Then I take deep breaths, but I panic when I think of the future (really, what's new?) but at the end of the day, he's still Kai. I practice gratitude because I should. It will be okay. It will all be okay. I'll be okay too, just as long as I can remember to turn around and swim with the current for once.   

I Spend More Time Than I Should Being Pissed off at Bob Saget. subtitle: Happy Mother's day.

You know what? Full House really set me up to feel like a failure as parent.


That show was pretty much at the center of my television life from grades k-4 or 5, and maybe 6, who can remember. I swear though, that it wasn't just me. Without exception, each year on the first day of school when we did all that ice breaker/get to know your teacher stuff we would have to go around and say our favorite show. Now, this was back when TGIF was the height of the elementary-aged child's Friday night plans and Sunday's Casey's top 40 officially marked the end of my weekend so there really wasn't that much out there.  Also, now that I think of it, I did live in a very low income area and our playground was literally made out of old truck tires and wood logs (I promise you I'm not kidding)-- So maybe we all just bonded over that show because our home lives were pretty tragic anyway. I for one, took great comfort knowing that I could always rely on the worst problem of Stephanie Tanner's night being the lack of a ride home from the mall. That show was like my most comfy worn-in jeans.

I just KNEW that when I had kids, it was going to be all soft piano music and the quiet passing on of parental wisdom to a ready, listening ear. Then we'd all go out for ice cream and laugh about that time  someone's pet monkey snuck in the house and climbed in bed with another someone who mistook the monkey for a significant other. (Canned laughter Ad friggen nauseum).

Fast forward to reality. Did you know that in real life you can't just get down on one knee and endlessly lecture a five year old? Shocking! As it turns out, not enjoying criticism is kind of a universal human trait. Who knew? Not this girl. Danny Tanner LIED to me.

I try to gently reason with my kids all the time, and guess what? Eye rolling is not just for teenagers. It starts early, people. Not for the first time, earlier this week while I was trying to sweetly drop some serious wisdom to my seven-year-old he turned to me and said, "Mom. Please. STAHHHHP."

And this is exactly what pops in my head. 

So I'm dropping my wisdom here. The trick to lecturing your kids is just to flat out trick them, ninja-like. Ply them with something sweet. Get them into the car and don't start until it's running (I realize this sounds a lot like kidnapping and that's because it almost is, which is actually the brilliance of it). Then, condense your entire life's worth of awesome advice into maaaaybe five words and spit them out quickly, because it's the digital age and the average attention span is like two seconds. Boom. Parenting.

You know what's heartbreaking though? Bob Saget might be a hilarious comedian but I will never know, because the second I started watching that Netflix stand up special all I could think was, Omigod, Danny Tanner! What a terrible potty mouth you have!!! I turned it off five minutes in. My childhood was built on lies. Cheesy, piano music laced lies.

And then I Just Stared at him and Blinked a lot

I'm scared.  It's not even February and we are all suffering from severe case of cabin fever here. It's not the bad kind though. Yet. The bad kind is when you find yourself just staring out the windows with crazy hair, still in your pajamas, digging into a box of dry cereal and giving handfuls of it to the toddler just to keep the whining at bay for another 5 seconds. I'm not there yet. I mean, I totally got dressed today.

We're at orange level cabin fever. Orange involves my poor, poor seven year old being forced to watch youtube videos with me and before I know it I'm laughing way too hard for the situation and he starts looking at me funny like I might be patronizing him, but I'm really just trying to keep hysteria at bay. I miss the outdoors. I miss when my youngest wasn't either on antibiotics or on his way to needing them because leaving the house happened more often.

Today, when we were looking for awesome youtube videos, I was reminded of an amazing experience we had last year at this very time doing this very same thing.  I've always wanted to share it with the world, so here is what happened...

One boring afternoon I had the idea of Spotifying (screw you, autocorrect, that is totally a word) the Macarena so that Kelan and I could dance to it because if I had to suffer through the 90's, I think he should get a taste too. But when I busted into the Macarena he had a very surprising reaction.  He told me I was doing it wrong (!?).

Hold up. No. I went to my seventh grade dances thankyouverymuch.

But I decided to take the bait. "What do you mean?" I asked. "This isn't how the song goes, I listen to this in Kindergarten all the time. This is the song where you count."

And then I just stared at him and blinked a lot.

Then I just started interrogating him, Law and Order style.  Tell me about this "counting song", I demanded.

After much confusion I just decided to google "counting Macarena song" and it led me to THIS AWESOME PIECE OF AMERICAN HISTORY. *writing side bar* I would have totally just put the video here but embedding is not an option on the iPad version, so please just click the link, it will be worth it, I swear.

After I watched it, I didn't even have words.  "You watch this in school?" I finally asked.  "We do all the time" he said.

And then I just stared at him an blinked a lot.

We probably watched it ten times that day because I just couldn't stop myself. It's just so...bizarre.

May your winter be short and your ear infections far between, my friends.

2014- Sitting with it

My 2014 in a quote?

       "Experience: That most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn."  

                                               C.S. Lewis

"Sitting with it" is a term that psychotherapists use to describe the uncomfortable process of feeling strong emotions.  I am a chronic avoider, a lover of distraction.  I enjoy escaping into humor and light-hearted fun. When a therapist told me that I had issues with avoidance, I couldn't possibly understand the problem. "Um yeah, I don't like to feel crappy and anxious, I'm crazy like that." Is what I remember defensively uttering back. 

This year though, I vowed to face things in a more straightforward fashion; And *spoiler alert, it sucked. Then it sucked some more. In the end though, I came out with a lot more peace in my life. I ate more humble pie and scowled at the people who were too nice to say, "told you so."  

In 2014, I sat with my (many) imperfections. I felt the full chaos of a messy house and learned to sit down with the baby and be in that moment. I sat with the anxiety of not knowing what would come next, and learned that I would be able to deal. It was predictably, pretty terrifying. For awhile.  But then it wasn't so much.  I sat with gaining.  I sat at a healthy weight and I didn't cease to function. This was, perhaps, my biggest win. It may seem shallow but I'm proud. 

In 2014 I sacrificed the quest for perfection and started the quest for authenticity. I stopped asking myself what I should be doing that's more "normal" and started asking myself what I could be doing that's more "healthy".

In 2014 there were first steps and kisses, parent-teacher conferences and cub scouts. There was terrorism and Ebola and bombs and hunger.  There was a big picture as well and my tiny world to battle with. 2014 taught me to love until it hurts and to forgive even if it's for my own benefit. 

It's been a freaking long, terribly exhausting, and  seriously humbling year, you guys. But I wouldn't change it for a thing.

So if you're reading this, Thanks for being in my life. I mean that.

Happy New Year! Bring on 2015 (I think).

  

Oh hello there, 2014

I have to admit, I've wanted to start blogging again for awhile now but it took me several months of random password guesses to get into this account. I'm both proud of and disturbed by my ability to protect my blog from my potential blogging.

I've missed this though. I've missed the tiny corner of the internet where I get to share my ramblings and pictures, because lately Facebook has been scaring the shit out of me. Ever since they added that trending section and I get to constantly see updates about Ebola and global warming and this zombie apocalypse that people are sure is going to happen. It's been making me a little...tense. Needless to say, I'm not a person that seeks out the kind of news that updates every millisecond with the latest way everyone is sure to die a horrible, miserable death VERY VERY soon.

So with that out there, I'd like to share some things that made me smile today. Things that actually weren't about Ebola or war or whichever former childhood star is making the worst choice possible.

Today I dropped Kai off for a couple hours at the drop-in childcare center so that I could navigate the boundless ocean of housework that seeks to drown me daily.  For a few short hours, I was able to delegate the wrestling match that is changing his diapers.  I was able to focus on a task without wondering if the quiet actually meant that Kai was in mortal danger -- and before you roll your eyes thinking I'm being hyperbolic, I did have to call poison control last week after he had a run in with my baking cupboard and more specifically, my almond extract. My children are lucky to survive me.

When I returned to pick him up, the sweetest thing happened.  The daycare teacher ran to get her phone... She was so genuinely excited to show me a picture that she had taken of Kai when he fell asleep in the middle of bouncing like a maniac.

Later this afternoon we had Kelan's first parent-teacher conference with his new teacher. She started by sharing an anecdote about him; how the "mother hens" in the class were jumping in to help him when he hurt his hand last week. She spoke of all her students with genuine interest and enthusiasm for their successes. It was really touching.

I've seen a lot of amazing teachers getting understandably fed up with the politics lately, I've seen some good ones leave the profession because of the insane demands and the ridiculous budget cuts. I've seen some become apathetic and passionless and honestly, I have nothing but compassion for them. However, when I see a teacher that goes above and beyond, that genuinely cares about education and is willing to be at the front lines against the crazy helicopter parents and the intruder trainings and the endless red tape, it makes me forget about the doom and the Ebola and the fact that there are groups of people that call themselves "preppers". It makes me smile. It gives me the energy to do it all over again tomorrow, provided the zombies don't get me in my sleep.

I resolve to not lose my mind in 2013

I'm not good at creating habits.  I dread routine because it seems to turn months into years pretty quickly.  Even my morning coffee seems to give me that feeling of, didn't I just do this? Where did yesterday go...

But alas, I'm off meds so I made a couple of resolutions to lessen my anxiety, routines are actually really good for that. Routines and sedatives.  I kid.

Resolution #1- Stop drinking coffee like it's water.  

I think I've built up a tolerance for caffeine.  I need to get down to a cup or two of coffee a day at the most, and I need to stop mixing in the sugar for that extra burst of energy.  Too many crashes.

Resolution #2- Keep the weight on.

I write this more as an awkward confession than anything, but I've had a couple uncomfortable conversations with doctors involving my fertility.  I was under the impression that my weight was fine, but the bottom line is that if I ever hope to have another baby, I have to stay at a weight that is uncomfortable for me.  Setting aside all of the tangents that can stem from that statement, I recently sucked it up and gained 10 lbs.

Now, I accept that only certain people in my life can understand that it is not stone cold narcissism that holds me back...  It's complicated.

And I'm not going to pretend it's easy.

But I've made the resolution to try as hard as I can to keep this weight on...2013 here I come?

And finally, Resolution # 3- Facebook less, blog more.

I recently read a couple scholarly articles about the effects of social networking on the average person.  Turns out, facebook actually makes people sad.  I admit it has the power to make me completely insecure.  One look at how wonderful everything is for everyone at any given moment does have the ability to make me wonder if I am okay.  Am I doing it wrong???? But then I unplug and everything is okay again.  So I've been checking in once a day rather than 20, and taking one day a week off from finding out what everyone ate for breakfast.  It's already freed up some serious time!

So yeah.  That's it.

I hope I don't jinx anything by doing an early New Years post

I've spent a lot of time reflecting lately, on this past year and all of the new lessons I had to learn the hard way; On all the accomplishments and setbacks, and of course all the crazy. This is what I ended up with, bullet-point style:

The world didn't end on December 21st- so there's that.

Parenting continues to be the neverending lesson in futility, but apparently the universe wants to pound that one in.  I'm a slow learner, what can I say? In my defense,  Infancy is a big huge parenting tease. you put them in the cute clothes, buckle them in the car seat, and take off.  It's a micromanager's dream.  But then they get opinions, and with that comes the bittersweet realization that, as a parent, letting go is all you'll ever do.

Truthfully, There are a lot of power struggles in my home.  Sean and I could not be more opposite on the parenting-style spectrum, and yet we are on the exact same side of the stubbornness scale.  Luckily for us, we didn't get a very malleable child, or we'd be screwed.  Kelan knows himself, and is strong-willed, he's better off for it, even if I don't agree tomorrow. Or by the time I'm finished writing this sentence.

I guess what I'm trying to say, and not so eloquently, I might add, is that learning to let go is a constant lesson in my life, 2012 was no exception. My dad likes to remind me that control is an illusion anyway, and I'm grateful for that.

Which, Segue! Brings me to...

Gratitude. By far and away the most important force in my life this year.  Because, a tiny part of me always knew that I'd be ready to move on from the money pit just as soon as I started to like it.  I don't know what it was about that house, but it just always seemed to symbolize all the "stuck" in my life, and the resentment was palpable.  It was like I was literally living in my own negativity.  We all were.  And then we took it off the market and I just decided to be grateful. For everything.  Little by little.  I realize that I am sounding kind of nuts, but hear me out.  It was the key, the key to moving forward and not being stuck anymore.

So I carry it on to this new place in my life, I'm grateful for every little part of it, and deep--really freaking deep down, I know it could not be, unless I'd been "stuck" for a ridiculous amount of time.  But don't tell me that a year ago- I would have probably slapped you in the face.

I think that's probably enough reflection for the day.

Summary: 2012 was eventful.  2013 has its work cut out for it.

Happy Early New Year!

So

So... It's December.

Suddenly I have a five year old, which is just...wow.  I mean, it's probably time to start breaking out the Boniva and make an appointment for Botox because I'm OLD now. I have had a serious conversation with a medical professional about my child's "stool". There's no coming back from that, no, "Oh, where's that kegger at tonight?" in my future. Not that I want there to be, just...you know, noting.

Um, I digress.

December!  And it's the end of an era for us (and hopefully not also the end of the world, because that would be a bummer).  We are finally saying goodbye to the money pit.  I know, bittersweet, right? No.  Pretty much just sweet.  T- minus twelve days until the move and I can barely sleep I'm so excited.  Homeownership is not all it's cracked up to be, people.  Especially ancient home-ownership.  For the near future, this girl's American dream involves a magic phone number to call when anything needs maintenance and a landscaping budget the size of a windowsill.

So that's what's new.  Packing and cleaning and organizing and sorting. It's like Christmas came early!

I'll let Samuel Jackson do the cursing for me this time

Well, things around here have officially gone from kind of nuts to cartoonishy crazy. I couldn't make this stuff up.

For your sake and mine, i'll stick to bullet points

- The heap of junk that sits in our driveway

Yes, our old Civic is on it's way out.  We have put thousands into that car and it has given us a couple of good years, but I'm pretty sure it's time to call it.  I'm not very picky about what I drive so I would be happy enough just to drive the car until it putters out, but the big issue is that it's become kind of an environmental hazard.  It basically makes it's way through the city leaking oil in a steady stream.  I've learned not to park in any driveway for any reason. Ever.  We checked on what it would cost to fix the issue and it's more than half of what the car is worth these days.  We need it to last until March. Keep your fingers crossed for us...

-  The heap of junk that sits on our property

What's new with the money pit, you ask? Wait, you didn't ask?  Here's the scoop: it's not sold yet and thankfully now, off the market for awhile.  We averaged about one showing per week this summer, which is kind of a lot, but unfortunately we are just going to have to stick around here for awhile, tossing more money into the pit. Which actually brings me to....

- The bats!  

The bats! The bugs, I've gotten used to.  The mice? The cats have gotten used to, but the bat situation in this house has me losing it.  It's almost exactly like that movie, Snakes on a Plane- Samuel Jackson's famous line, actually-- just watch this. Yes. That is how I feel except, replace snakes with bats. And replace plane with house. We've had four of them in the past two months. We had one exterminator come out and all he could say is that he has no idea where they are coming from* The last bat we woke up to flying overhead at four am. In our bedroom. Good times.

- the zombies! 

Fine, so there is only one, and it's me.  It's still a threat though.  Going off all my meds seemed like such a good idea back when I was still on them; Back when we were thinking of potential future risk to fetus (what is the plural of fetus?), because, baby fever!!  However, now, in the thick of withdrawal from Effexor--constant headaches, brain fog, nausea, and debilitating fatigue?? The extent to which I look and feel like the walking dead has me thinking, baby shmaby, my brains are gone...give me yours, nom.  Which brings me to...

- my unemployable self

Okay, I know what you're thinking.  It's probably the zombie thing, idiot! But you're wrong, because, of the six part-time minimum wage or near minimum wage jobs I've applied for this summer, not one prospective employer has even seen me in person! That's right, not one interview.  It's pathetic really. On paper, though, I don't even look that bad! I'm a responsible adult whose had some college, an average work history, and I volunteer in the community! What gives? I'm already picking out the classes I plan on taking next semester. I've had it with the Wisconsin job market. 

- cactuslegsgate

The thing is, it's basically a miracle that this doesn't happen more often based on how often I talk without thinking.  Basically cactuslegsgate started one evening when Kelan and I were watching television together. He turned to me and said, "Ew mom, your legs are pokey." I absentmindedly replied, "Yeah, I guess I do have cactus legs today, don't I?" Apparently K thought this was pretty funny, because two nights later when we were reading stories he proudly mentioned that he told Miss Rachel (daycare staff) that she had cactus legs. Nice.  So, to anyone my child may have offended, please accept my sincerest apologies.

There you have it.  This is what we have been up to lately. Zombies, bats, oil spills, and vast pits with money at the bottom.  It could be better, it could be a whole lot worse.  I'll take it.  And just like the lyrics in that One Republic song, We'll keep marching on, one foot right in front of the other. 


*Hades?

   

We are a weird people, in my not so humble opinion

I've never hosted a foreign exchange student, but sometimes I like to pretend that my four year old is just an inquisitive foreigner that I have to introduce our culture to... it's nice to switch things up a bit.

Truly though, I love that he asks the type of questions that force me to see how ridiculous some of my own practices and beliefs are. His questions even make me feel better about the things I've never understood about our culture, for instance, now I know I'm not the only one who wonders why high heels exist if they're not fun to walk in, or why all books don't have pictures in them.

I have always been driven to understand the "why" behind things. It makes me crazy when others don't share this personality trait, but then again, those people probably get a lot more sleep than I do (and will probably live a good ten years longer too). I'm glad that Kelan seems to be a natural "skeptic", even if it does make me crazy in an, oh-my-god-shut-up-and-just-do-it-already-don't-ask-why-just-obey!!! (Which is kind of what I imagine a lot of our politicians think to themselves....)

What all of this has so clearly been leading to is a list of things that I will never understand how to explain to him, all of these are things he's asked except for one (you can try to guess which). It's a list of things that I will never understand about our society.

1. People who are above the rules, in both large and small ways- and it's not the big stuff that gets to me, really. White collar crime? Murder? I can kind of wrap my brain around it. Mostly it's mental illness and narcissism, plain and simple. But the small stuff? Like cutting in front of me in line? Refusing to obey the rules of a four way stop? Jaywalking? That's the stuff that makes me want to pull a person aside and ask, "Why does everyone have to follow the rules but you? What makes you so special?"*

2. Breast implants- As a culture, we are so incredibly vain. I am not "against" breast implants or anything. Plastic surgery has its place.** But I've just never really understood it. The only time I think I could advise anyone to do it, is if they could honestly answer the following, "If after the surgery, you woke up to realize that you were the last person left on Earth, would you still do it?" Not that the procedure would cause the human race to die out, just that you could be absolutely sure that you were doing it for yourself and not anyone else. Because, I understand that we are visual creatures. I can appreciate beauty and symmetry, but whenever I see a pair of perfect, obviously fake breasts, all I can think, is that they look like that because somebody CUT THEM OPEN or otherwise shoved some sort of plastic-y liquid filled bags in there.

3. Over sized cars (and don't even get me started on mansions)- Do you own a Tahoe? An Excursion? Do you own an over sized pick up truck? I'm not judging you, but I do want to know why... because the only answer I will understand, is that you a) have six to sixteen kids to haul around, b) live in your large SUV, or c) haul large things daily. DAILY. Otherwise, I just can't quite see the reason. I'll still like you, I'll still be your friend (if you are not an asshole), but I'll ask you an endless stream of why questions, if that's okay.

4. Taxidermy- What? The hell? My sister recently made me watch this famous commercial on Youtube, which I replayed and laughed at about 500 times; But the commercial, combined with a local trip to a nature preserve really made me wonder about taxidermy. We've all (okay, maybe not everyone) stayed at that friend's cottage and had a creepy night's sleep under a large dead dear head with it's eyes staring at you. Or at the very least have come face to face with that large moose behind counter at Abercrombie and Fitch. Have you ever stopped to wonder why? My four year old and I have. Why would someone want a dead animal in their house? Why would another someone study the art of how to turn a dead animal into a permanently alive-looking dead animal? Does this not creep you out just a little? As far as I'm concerned, Jeffrey Dahmer tried that with people and that was frowned upon. It seems like just a small line to cross from a moose if you really think about it though...

5. Catch-and-release fishing- I'm not against hunting and fishing. I do think it's become a little perverted in modern time considering it used to be for life instead of for sport, but I understand hunting. I don't despise hunters or anything. What I don't quite get is catch-and-release fishing for "fun."  I mean, it has to be just a little bit of a power trip. Why do it? So that you can prove that fish can be tricked by your bait? It just makes me think of how strange it would be if I was walking along the street one day and grabbed a yummy doughnut to take a bite only to be pulled into who knows where, maimed, and then thrown back. I wonder if it causes some sort of food phobias in fish populations. I should study this.

So yeah. What have you had a hard time explaining to your foreign exchange student, child, self?


* Which is why I do not subscribe to helicopter parenting. Is there a better way to create entitlement issues? I can't think of one.

** (Insert bath salts/ face-eating reference here)

Unless you are a fan of vomiting in your mouth a little, don't read this.

I'm not posting this one on Facebook because I don't want to bore anyone to death with details that, frankly, aren't even a little exciting.  But all the same, I needed someplace to document this stuff because I'm getting older, and there's no way this is going to stay in my brain long.



A picture could not relay this, but he is singing in the rain.


One of those just between us, veteran-mom-speaks-to-novice-mom type books during my last months of pregnancy warned me that it's normal for the whole "motherhood" thing not to hit you right away.  A lot of veterans mentioned that feeling of unreality about having a child, even described feeling as if they were just babysitting long term or didn't feel like a "real" mom until some poingnant moment came along and it suddenly hit them.

I most definitely didn't feel like a "real" mom right away. It hit me slowly over his first year actually.  It was always those little shoes that did it. I'd be picking up those tiny shoes off the floor and think, "Holy crap, I'm someone's mom." Same thing when I'd be folding onesies at 8:00 p.m. on a Friday night, which might as well have been midnight. The big one though, that one poignant moment that hit me like a bolt of lightning, happened when he was a little over a year old.  I had him out for a walk in his stroller and he'd had a cold.  I remember wiping his nose and then freaking out because, where do I put this dirty Kleenex? Yeah, the moment that shoved me over the line into full-on motherhood, was the first time I shoved a dirty Kleenex in my coat pocket. There's no turning back from that. It's probably one step down from using spit to clean your kid's face. 

I take a lot of unusual pictures around the house; Pictures of toys set up in the midst of play, of the superheros lined up on the bathtub to dry, of that jar that he tried to keep the latest caterpiller in, along with one lonely dead leaf. If you looked at my iPod or cell phone's stored pictures, you'd find a lot of random scenes like that. Not because I'm trying to be super artsy and unique, but because these are the things I'm scared of forgetting. Just like the dirty Kleenex and the baby shoes, I'm terrified that by the time he's speeding in our car and lusting after vapid, overly made-up girls, I'll have lost the memory of the time he let me take a nap when I was tired, and busied himself by building a huge duplo creation. And when I woke up, how he was so excited to tell me it was called "The double tree restaraunt"- his restaraunt that only sold pancakes and strawberries. The lego guys sure seemed to be enjoying it.

I'll end this with a list of my favorite Kelan words and phrases- the things he has defined himself, and I love them too much to correct him on. 

Fire letter- lighter
Washing syrup- laundry detergent
"The sand for the dishwasher"- Cascade
"For the heck of god"- he says this when he is frustrated
The butt snacks- Veggie Booty or any of the like
The block store- The learning shop
The puzzle game- any iPod or mobile device

If I don't answer the door, assume that I am off shopping for ugly lawn ornaments

Four weeks until freedom.

In just four short weeks our contract with the latest realtor is up.  She has been such a great realtor, but we need a break from the insanity.

I'm positive this is the right decision for now, because I'm already fantasizing about coming home to a house without one of those stupid key holder boxes on the door.  It's been so long that I have forgotten what our doorknob looks like.

It's crazy the things that you can adjust to when a process that is meant to take a couple of months ends up dragging on for years.  Nothing surprises me about the homebuyer anymore. It doesn't phase me when I see people trying to peek into my windows. I'm no longer taken aback when someone knocks on the door at eight in the morning wanting to know the price. And when Sean is out doing yardwork on the weekend and someone begs to come through the house?  I actually survey the mess and contemplate, instead of being appalled. I'm not exaggerating. This has all happened.  More than once.

A couple of weeks ago, I came home to find a large van blocking my driveway.  With my arms full of groceries, I casually went inside and set them down before confronting the strange woman on my deck.  She had "just come by to check out the property" which she mistakenly had assumed was "vacant" which surprised me, considering Kelan's bike was parked on the front walk.
But these days, my head is in a house sans a For Sale sign in the front yard. I'm almost feeling a little rebellious. The freedom will bring seemingly endless possibilities! I can stop being hyperaware of the superficial negatives of the house. Hell, in a month, if I want to, I can put a bed in the livingroom! I can plaster the rooms with personal pictures, paint a room neon pink, or even take a shower without being unduly afraid that the call center has gotten the time wrong or forgotten to confirm a showing and someone might walk in at any moment.*

This zombie lawn art?  Is now officially an option. I bet you take that for granted, comfortable home owner.

I am excitedly awaiting that large sigh of relief that I can breathe on August 1st. 


*The various call centers have yet to mess up, but it doesn't stop me from showering with lightening speed on days with showings...

I think you need to see this

I heart google images.  It's like this hotbed of weirdness at my fingertips whenever I wish.  A couple weeks ago, I came across an image that I just couldn't stop looking at.  I saved it to my desktop and I have been looking at it when I need some cheering up. I did follow the link once and it turns out it is a picture from a Japanese catalog (I'm not sure what is for sale in the picture though, because I am not fluent and it's really not all that clear). 

So I'm putting it here to share it with you.  I'm kind of sure that it's illegal to just be grabbing images and posting them all willy nilly, but I really think that the law would understand once they saw.

!!!!!!!!!

And I'm not sure exactly, if it's the orange socks, the look on his face, the pose, or the unhealthy plant that draws me in. But. yeah. This is the cure for the Monday Mundane.

I'm sorry or you're welcome. Depending on what you want to hear at this point.  

Mrs. Robinson, I'm not.

Apparently I live in a neighborhood that loves handing out money, because I feel like I am constantly answering the door to people who want it.
I don't know if you feel the same way, but for me, this is awkward under the best of circumstances. Then add me and, if the money-wanter is even a bit awkward themselves, it is literally the perfect storm. And, I swear I'm not a misanthropist, but it kind of makes me long for the days of "buzzing people in" if only to prevent the discomfort for all involved. 

There is one visit in particular that I dread each and every year. It's a very specific group that is politically motivated to "make some big changes in our state". The irony, is that I agree with the political affiliation, I just can't stand anything else about the group. Especially how they go after donations. One year I made the mistake of giving them my phone number and I was kind of harassed on the phone.  The woman actually offered me a limited time "deal" on a certain donation amount. True story. Like I was lucky that she was going to "knock down the price" of a donation.  When I tried to kindly get off the phone by saying that I was going to see about it and possibly make a donation online? She told me that she would be happy to stay on the phone while I walked to my computer. I felt like some sort of hostage. My palms are sweating just thinking about it.

Well, This year's visit was equally crazy. Well, to me anyway. 

Let me paint you a picture. It's a Monday afternoon. I'm right in the middle of cleaning out the refrigerator (because I live a fancy and glamorous life). I've got my iPod headphones in my ears, not even a tiny bit of make-up on, and my hair (which I'd just let air dry into a frizzy, curly, mess) is thrown up into one of those scary top knot deals. Earlier in the day I had a stroke of genius in which I decide to wash all the shelves at once in the dishwasher so of course I'm busy trying to remember where they originally were, determinedly trying to jam them in places they don't fit (much like a toddler doing a jigsaw puzzle) I am literally sweating.

That is when I heard a knock at the door. 

It was loud, so I figured it must be important. I mean, I had to answer it. What kind of neighbor would I be if the house next door was on fire and someone needed a phone or CPR or something and I just ignore them to scrub the fridge? But, by now you know where this is going...

I open the door to find three young men. Since my cats have a way of darting out the door and pissing off my neighbors by eating the local wildlife, I am forced to hastily shut the door and join them outside. When the deer-in-headlights thing finally wears off, I realize that it's too late to turn back. I'm forced to say, "Sure, I've got 'a sec'." I will now share with you the weirdness in all it's glory, complete with Italics for my inner monologue!!

I feel like if I need to share the burden of this interesting exchange. 

First off, the characters: 

Boy #1-  age anywhere from 17-23 tops. Carries himself as if he looks like...

Hey there, can I have a second of your time?

                                                                             THIS.

Only, what I actually see is more like...

                                                                           THIS

Also, I feel the need to add that he was wearing hipster glasses.

Boys #2 and 3-  approx the same age as boy #1, although I never really looked at either one of them as they were standing a good 3 feet behind boy #1 the entire time.

Hot mess answering the door- 28 going on 60, looking a lot like....



Say what?



                                                                               THIS

                                            (only without the nice features or any of the makeup)

Boy # 1 (after I tell him I have a second) "Hey, did you just get back from UW Madison?" 

Me- Uhhhhh long silence as I realize that I am wearing an old Badgers tee that I acquired from the little boys section in a thrift store.  

            

              "Oh. Um. No"   

(Wait "back?" How old does this kid think I am? Is he asking if I'm home from college for the summer?)

Boys #2 and 3:

Boy #1 (Still smiling exactly like the picture) "Great, well I'm "forgothisnameasecondafterhesaidit" and we're here in your neighborhood today because we are looking for people to help us out with our fill-in-the-blank organization.  As you know the job market has really been suffering in our state.  We are part of the fill-in-the-blank project to help create more jobs in your area, it's very important to our state and the future...

(hands me a clipboard with a laminated newsletter or something, on the message and stares at me expectantly.)

Me- Am I supposed to read this? Like right now? Can't he just give me a pamphlet or something?

          (staring at the paper thinking instead of reading)

Boy #1- (Two seconds later) So, I think you are on our side in terms of this agenda?

Boys #2 and 3-

Me- In terms of jobs being a good thing and that we need them? What exactly is this? Is anyone against jobs? Is he asking if I agree that jobs in Wisconsin have been on the decline?

          "Uh.. Yes"

Boy#1-

                "So, obviously this initiative is going to take a lot of us to rise up and work hard to get this done.  Today we are asking for donations from twenty dollars on up, I was wondering if I could have your signature and your cooperation in this?"

Boys #2 and 3-

Me- Why is he still smiling like that? He must think I'm some sad, frumpy college student that is going to give him money because he's paying me attention. How do I get out of giving these people money without them talking to me longer?

    "Do you have a website that I can use to do more research on this topic?"

Boy #1-

               "Well yes we do have a website and here is the address (pointing to the laminated paper) but we're hoping that you understand how important this is right now, blah blah blah ITS GOING TO TAKE A LOT OF US....blah blah blah blah ROLL UP OUR SLEEVES AND blah blah blah blah BIG CORPORATIONS....blah blah blah blah So, can I have your signature?

Me-  Oh my gosh they are never going to leave and I'm sweating now. I sure would like these boys to give me a pamphlet... why would he think I should give money to them right now, I don't even know if they are legit..

         "You know what? I would really like some time to do more research and discuss this with my husband before making a commitment to donate."

Boy #1- "Well, that's cool.  I understand.  We are going to be in your neighborhood until pretty late tonight, what time can I come back this evening after you've spoken to your...husband?"

Me- Wow. Is this guy bluffing?

            "Well he doesn't even get back from work until six so....

Boy#1- (interrupts) Great! Well see you later then!

Me- OMFG! They are going to come back and break my kneecaps.

         "Uh, bye?"

Boy #2 and 3-


Oh, and they did come back, I heard a loud knock at my door at around 8:30, but Kelan and I were too busy watching SheRa to answer the door. 

Thoughts on motherhood from someone who has a lot of thoughts. Too many, almost.

It's mother's day and I have had far too much caffeine, so bear with me, because this may or may not make any sense.  

I remember my expectations of having kids before I actually had one.  2012 emily smiles and nods at sweet, ridiculous, idealistic, pre-child emily. The only way I can really sum up the thoughts about motherhood that are rolling around in my head right now, is with a list; Here goes: 

THINGS I THOUGHT WOULD HAPPEN OVERNIGHT UPON GIVING BIRTH (BUT THAT DIDN'T BECAUSE HAVING EXPECTATIONS IS THE WORST MISTAKE ANYONE CAN MAKE WHILE RAISING HUMANS):

1) That I'd know how to keep my own baby alive (Also included, that my baby would know that he was supposed to help me out a little in this department).  You think I'm joking but I'm not.  Many people asked me when I was going to take all those Lamaze classes and the breastfeeding tutorials.  People gave me books that just sat around, because I was smug. I just kind of wandered around in a haze, ignoring everyone. People have been doing this shit for thousands of years, and I'm not an idiot, so why do I need to "study"? Then I had my baby a month early. No notice, no suitcase, no idea. The four NICU nurses waiting to see if my baby would come out blue with no idea how to breathe on his own? Yeah, not exactly what I had envisioned. 

2) That I would fall in love. That I would cry and feel euphoric. That I would be so overcome with love for my baby that I would immediately want to jump in front of cars and buses and stuff. Don't get me wrong, I love my child and rainbows and kittens and butterflies and all of that, but I'm only a little ashamed to say that my first thought after delivering my son? (well after finding out that he wasn't against breathing oxygen and all), That was gross. Someone get me into the shower so that I can stay there for a couple days. Also, I would appreciate everyone keeping their hands to themselves now. I'm still waiting for that euphoria by the way. 

3) That everyone would shut the hell up about my breasts. Ha! I've blogged about this ad nauseum, so I'm not really going to get into it, but I honestly thought once the baby came he would provide a distraction for people from the never ending breast is best discussions. And I wasn't against breast feeding, I just thought that it would not be all that complicated...or that public, is all. Turns out, people care. Nurses care. Lactation consultants care. Strangers who see you in the formula aisle at the store care. My baby? not so much. Scold me if you will, La Leche League, but there is NOTHING natural about my breastfeeding experience, which included pumps, unsolicited advice, batteries, creams, rules, time sheets, and more people than I have breasts.  Like quadruple the amount of people. The only one who didn't give a crap was Kelan. And truthfully, I still thank him for that.

4) That my vocabulary would just up and change all by itself. My generation swears a lot. I don't like it, but I accept it. I don't swear a lot, but I do drop an f bomb way more easily than I should. No worries, because people with kids don't swear! I assumed that this was because something magically happens in your brain when you give birth. Um, it doesn't. Just ask my son's babysitters about that damn it phase he went through. I'm not perfect you guys. It turns out you actually have to TRY to not act like a sailor around children.

5) That I would suddenly love dealing with bodily fluids. No. Just...no. I still hate talking about feces, dealing with vomit and blood and mucus and I'm dry heaving just typing this. Eww you guys, kids are constantly leaking stuff. It doesn't magically become awesome. 

6)That sleep would be insignificant compared to the amazing life I created. Screw that noise, I'm still tired.

7) Basically, that I would know what the hell I was doing. I suppose I could have just had this be number one and stop there, and I'm kind of sorry that I didn't because you probably think I am a child- hating freak. On mother's day. Great.

Guess what? I'm going to reference a movie! The Weather Man. Seriously an underrated movie. It makes me cry every time I see it. I hope you aren't thinking of that one Will Ferrel movie, because I'm talking about that Nicolas Cage one. There is a line in that movie that gets me every time. Nicolas Cage's character is talking to his dad and the dad says, "You always worry about your kids... no matter how old, there's always looking after." That? Has taken me four years so far to come to terms with. The concept, not the scene in the movie. 

Because motherhood is for life. I kept thinking that there was going to be a magic day that everything just gets easier. Because some moms make it look like a breeze. I have found an unreasonable amount of contentedness in the fact that I'm probably never going to feel good at it. It's not ever going to get easy. On the other hand though, it's never going to be less exciting. It's never going to be less of a gift. 

And after all that?

I think I want to do it again. Perhaps if you are a mom you will understand.

Happy Mother's Day, everyone!

A post that isn't about my kid!

So, I'm sure you've heard that adage about the definition of insanity, or perhaps it is not so much an adage as it is the actual definition of insanity, but I'm too tired to look it up. Anyway, so apparently the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? Something like that? Well, I was folding laundry and crying yesterday, when I realized that technically, what we are doing with this house on the market is insane.  I mean, not just silly, or annoying--not even stupid, or maddening.  But BAT SHIT CRAZY. 

And the worst part, is that it's self inflicted.  No one has had a gun to our heads for the past three years forcing us to let hundreds of strangers walk through and judge our abode unlivable. So I sucked it up and gave myself a pep talk, which went something like this, "Oh my gawd emily, what the hell is wrong with you. People live in Darfur. Seriously. Your life is awesome, so quit being an entitled whore." This is actually my go-to pep talk btw. Welcome to the inside of my head.

So then I started to think rational thoughts for a few minutes, and decided that I can't have it both ways.  I can't be involved in this clearly-masochistic-at-this-point process of selling my house, and then feel sorry for myself when I get a last minute showing on my "mommy-Kelan day" no matter how much detailed planning I had done.

Because, once again, let me explain to you that selling your (old character) house (without a garage) in this market (if you can't afford to take a 10-20 grand hit), is hell. Or, to express my feelings in the form of a Jerry Maguire quote, "An up-at-dawn, pride-swallowing siege, that I will never fully tell you about." Which works, because I was literally up at quarter to five steam-cleaning the carpet in my basement, trying to hide the fact that yesterday's rain storm caused a mysterious wet mess in the basement that neither Sean nor I want to even think about because we just spent a ridiculous amount of money replacing our water heater last month, and we gots mouths to feed and cats to vaccinate and we can't see Kelan's eyes underneath that mop of hair on his head.

So the crux. Am I stubborn enough to fight the universe on this one? Do I keep smiling at strangers who stop in front of our house to peer into the windows? Do I address the fact that the neighbors might want to not live next to the house that is forever on sale?

Truth?

We haven't decided yet. 

But it's kind of fun to laugh about. I don't know what I would do if my life suddenly became predictable. Probably not laugh as much I guess, or for that matter, not cry into mismatched socks as often. And who wants that? 

In his defense, most people react this way to my cooking

Kelan and I have been clashing over dinner lately.  He argues that I don't make pizza often enough, and I argue that his palate is not as refined as it could be. Seeing as it's a struggle for me to put one dinner on the table, I kind of refuse to make him his own special foods, because in the words of every other sadistic mom, "You will eat what I make buddy, this is not a restaurant!"

On Friday it was cold, like, jack up the furnace when Sean isn't looking, cold. So I put together some chili and made some rice.  I hadn't yet put out sides when I called Kelan to the table. Because I am passive aggressive amused by his antics, I grabbed the camera so that I could share. Because if you can't learn to laugh at your kids (publicly and behind their backs, of course) you are in for a lot of crying. 

Someone hand me a drink, before I think myself to death

I have to admit, it's not writer's block or an insanely busy schedule that has kept me away from this blog.  Sadly, it's just my raging insecurities, and the fact that if you are reading this, you might be judging me.

Once in awhile I will think of a quote from that movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" that has stuck with me for years. Actually, it's a conversation that Johnny Depp's character has with Juliette Lewis' character. Juliette asks Johnny* what it is he wants in life and he starts to list the things he wants for his family. She ignores it and presses him to answer what it really is that he wants for himself. He finally replies with, "I just want to be a good person"* I know it sounds childish and completely trite, but I totally understand that line, which I guess kind of goes without saying, or I probably wouldn't be refrencing a strange film from the early nineties.

I've heard people mention that they "are not good at taking criticism," and I'm not sure I know what this means.  Does it mean that you instantly become super angry and defensive? Suicidal? Or that you just don't use the information to elicit any changes? 

I think I am amazing at taking criticism.  Which is why I think so many people offer it so freely. I just kind of ponder it and use the information to create crazy racing thoughts that keep me awake at night; wondering what it all means, and what I should do about it.** I had a therapist once call this process, "mental masturbation" I suppose because it is actually kind of a narcissistic process that hides under the guise of self improvement.

What I'm saying is that this has been a year of much self examination so far, and it's only April.  I have had the chance to see myself through a lot of other peoples' eyes, and am still trying to figure out what I want to do about it.  I vacillate between wanting to make people understand me and trying my hardest to make everyone love me, and wanting to simplify things by being so private that no one even knows what I do or say so they don't even get a chance to have an opinion.

So my solution I think, is going to be throwing myself into more volunteer work, so that I can get a break from thinking about myself period, because I'm kind of sick of humble pie. It's pretty much all I eat these days. True Story. 

Um, lighter posts to follow soon?



*I'm sorry, I am too lazy to IMDb this and find the actual names, well just hers because his is in the title, I suppose. 

** It's sick, I mean, you should be thankful that you were not in my head during the "I'm quitting breastfeeding, or aren't I era, that lasted roughly eight weeks. The social pressure of this decision has made me dry heave when anyone even mentions it.  And I dare you to ask me about my plans if I ever get pregnant again.  I. dare. you. 

2012. It's here.

Spring makes me incredibly uneasy.  It's my least favorite season, and it always seems to follow the same disturbing pattern of events. 

Right around the time that an entire hour just up and disappears, the restlessness starts.  Soon after, a girl scout comes to the door and hands me a couple boxes of sheer panic (Caramel deLites and I are frienemies). Next thing I know, there's that weird smell in the air and all that is left of winter are those random grey-brown piles of snow that just sit there until they melt into some sort of muddy goo that Kelan just can't wait to stomp in.  Finally, it all culminates in the terror of facing the stores for clothes. Clothes that don't cover enough of my seriously Casperesque skin. *shudder*

It's enough to make me ill.  Or more likely just stressed enough to dig out the boxes of cookies that I had shoved in the way back of the cabinet and eat enough of them to consider starting that weird fast where you drink maple syrup with lemon juice or whatever.

ANYway................

I'm right in the thick of it, and, ick. But there is a huge light at the end of the tunnel; the only thing that will pull me out of the annual spring funk, and just thinking about it makes me smile. That's right guys,

SPRING FREAKING CLEANING TIME !!!!! 

And it's been a superbly awful January through March, so I'm going to indulge, and indulge big time. In fact, don't expect to see me for a week or two. And unless you are at my door with a couple of toothbrushes and some bleach? You're not getting in. 

Peace and love and stuff!   

This might be insecurity talking. Or it could be pragmatism. I'm really not the best judge of this stuff.

I don't know Martha Stewart personally, but I'd really like to meet her... so I could kick her ass, although, she'd probably be able kill me*. And then bury my body in some sort of decorative way. 

Martha Stewart is not responsible for my insecurites, but I do, for whatever reason, correlate the start of this whole make-everything-look-beautiful-and-perfect-so-that-my-psychological-issues-don't-show phase. But I've really only been around since the mid eighties, so what do I know.  I'm sure she wasn't the first to advocate meticulously planned dinner parties and shoving all your skeletons in a box decorated with flowers that you grew and dried yourself. 

Wow. I have gotten off track here.

Kelan is turning 4!

Raising this kid gets more fun and more complicated by the day.  I like to use Kelan's birthdays as a way to pat myself on the back for having kept him alive one more year**.  I know you'd like to think I'm kidding, but this shit is hard! I'm amazed that any child makes it a day past their first steps. And we're talking about a child who eats crackers that he finds under peoples' couches here. Yesterday, I found him in the kitchen trying to open a bag of crackers. With a steak knife.

Naturally we want to celebrate his birthday, but since when has a homemade cake and a few relatives been a sign that you are a crap mom who doesn't know how to decorate your cupcakes with fondant whatever-the-hell-you-think-your-4-year-old-loves?  I have actually given this a lot of thought this year.  Sean and I just couldn't decide what to do.  Our house is small and a hundred years old and does not lend itself to gatherings any larger than about four people. Which is fine, because I hate hosting- it involves way too much pressure. And more forks and spoons than I own. 

Just now, I was paging through a community publication and I came across an article about planning a special party for your child.  It suggests a theme, four dishes that require intensive labor in order to be "on-theme", and suggests that you make your own birthday hats for everyone- the directions of which are mind boggling, and involve several trips to a craft store no doubt. Not to mention, I'm not even sure what "fringe" is, or where it goes.  Here's the best part.  The article tells you to, I kid you not, construct a photo booth complete with homemade costumes for the kids to wear.***

Now, these aren't bad ideas or anything.  To each his own, and if that's the kind of thing you really enjoy doing, go for it! I'm just the type of person who feels insecure at these types of parties.  I feel uncomfortable eating finger food that so closely resembles the animal it was made to look like.  I usually leave wondering if I don't love my child enough. I didn't plan his party six months in advance! I forgot to have an enlarged photo of him framed for the event! I suck!

In the end, Kelan's party will be at a local pizza place. We will invite some close friends and relatives, and we will probably buy a cake from the store the morning of.  There won't be homemade birthday hats, and there won't be any foods shaped like numbers or animals, but I'm not sure Kelan will care.  I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure all he cares about is the cake, and the fact that he finally gets to be the one opening the presents. I think I'm OK with that. We'll save the "special table with pictures of your child and his many accomplishments!" for when he wins the nobel peace prize.


* She's been to prison. She can probably make some hardcore decoupaged shivs.   
   
** After all, it is about ME.

*** No doubt so that every mom can stand around with their digital camera and take a hundred pics for facebook and twitter. 



P.S. I don't really hate you Martha! Please don't kill me!