Jan 24, 2020 | What's going on |
I have thirteen minutes to pound this out before I have to pick up Annabelle at ballet.
Sleep or lack thereof: I’ve been doing a better job of being up and ready for the day before AB wakes up. Five out of seven days she would wake me up by appearing at the side of my bed and asking for breakfast, telling me a fact about Elana of Avalor or where her rag doll is and how she had her water bottle, lost it under the blankets then found it again. She wakes up ready to greet the day with all the enthusiasm and energy of a five-year-old/energizer bunny. My greeting of the day could not be less different.
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| Me when I wake up every morning |
For the last several days I’ve gotten up first and as much as I hate to admit it because it means less sleep, it has made the mornings easier to get up on my own terms. Tuesday I had to drag a sleepy Annabelle out of bed so we could make it to the homeschool group on time. I was doing her hair and singing a really superb song about how we needed to trim her nails next. She sighed very loudly and said, “Mom, it’s too early for all these shemanigans.” That’s exactly how I feel every morning! Too many shenanigans from the child of the house. Have a taste of your own medicine.
School: We attend two homeschool groups- a Classical Conversations group on Tuesdays and a regular homeschool group on Fridays. It took several weeks for me to start liking the CC model but it’s started to grow on me. I have no idea how to make what we learn on Tuesdays into an entire curriculum and I wish it was MUCH more hands-on, but Annabelle has learned quite a bit and enjoys going. She gives a presentation to her class every week and unlike her mother, there has never been any hyperventilating or tears before she gets up. Every few weeks a CC family has to stand in front of the entire group and tell a little about themselves. The mom who did it this week said, “We also have a son named Samuel, but he’s in the classroom right now because crowds and people looking at him make him very uncomfortable.” ME TOO, SAMUEL. Our turn is in March and I’m already planning on being sick that day.
Weather: it’s reached a brisk 42* at noon this week and the entire town is acting as if the sky is falling and we’re all about to die any second. Three separate people told me that this is supposed to be the coldest week of the year. I didn’t bother saying we’re only 23 days into the year so that doesn’t take much, but I tried to be outwardly sympathetic. Inwardly I’m all but putting up a billboard reminding people that January is winter and this is all totally normal. Nobody panic.
BRB. I have to go retrieve my child.
Still alive: our angel tree. It’s the Christmas tree that refuses to die and I refuse to throw it away while it still has so much life left to live. It’s been up for six weeks now which I think is long enough for a phone call to the Guinness World Record people.
Researching: the current situation surrounding the royal family. If you’ve got questions, I’ve got opinions galore. Christopher has tried to participate in my Sussex family conversations and I truly appreciate the effort, but it’s become clear he has not been paying attention. I was giving a lengthy soapbox speech about how they’re leaving the country of Harry’s birth and not even going to live in the country of Meghan’s birth. They’re up in Canada where the national snack is a weird dish of french fries with cheese curds and gravy. (Obviously, I’m not knocking french fries. I always have and always will love french fries. It’s the cheese curds I object to.) Christopher said, “Well, she is Canadian so that makes sense.” I was flabbergasted. Speechless. Has he learned nothing from me in the last several years?! She’s not Canadian. Didn’t he read all the headlines that said “American princess”? Was he not paying attention when I told him two and a half years ago that Lian’s son went to the boys’ version of the college prep high school in Los Angeles that Meghs attended? I would say I won’t share any more of my royal thoughts with him but we all know that isn’t true. I’ll be back at it tomorrow and there’s nothing he can do about it. It should have been written into our wedding vows. “In sickness and in health. In war and in peace. In times of royal gossip triumph and royal disdain.”
To sum up my thoughts on the current Sussex situation, I’d like to borrow a word from AB. It’s a bunch of shemanigans.
Dec 20, 2019 | Party people, What's going on |
For those keeping up with the saga that is Lucy’s allergies (and who isn’t?), I had to take her back to the vet for recurring sores on her legs. They took her back without me which was fine because I needed to focus on AB who had attached the leash to her dress and wanted me to walk her like a cat. I asked the very timid vet assistant to ask the vet for a more concrete plan than me bringing her for a shot every month. She returned several minutes later with the following medical plan: put hydrocortisone or antibiotic ointment on the trouble spots and make sure Lucy doesn’t lick it off. Sure. No problem. I’ll do that right after I stop the waves in the ocean and keep the world from spinning. There’s no way I can control where the cat puts her tongue.
On Sunday we had a little Christmas party for a AB’s friends. I told the family several times in the days leading up to the party that I wasn’t going to go crazy about it. It was going to be very relaxed. I scheduled it for 2 o’clock so I wouldn’t have to serve lunch or supper. All we needed to make was snakcs. Everyone would be impressed with how non-OCD I was about the napkins. Weekday Sarah forgot to tell party-eve Sarah the stay chill plan. I won’t go into details but it was not chill.
This was pre-craft and cookie decorating. The whole house was clean and quiet for all of 7 minutes.
To be honest, the house wasn’t entirely clean. We piled stuff into a laundry basket and hid it in the closet. The picture has been leaning against the dining room since we moved in several months ago.
I planned on making a bead snowman craft but when I went to Joann’s they were out of beads. I stood in the fake flower aisle and scrabbled to find another option that didn’t involve paint. Plastic ornaments were on sale so I bought a bunch to stuff with tissue paper and decorate to turn into reindeer.
The kids crafted, decorated homemade cookies, ate played, scarred the cats for life and genuinely seemed to enjoy themselves. Annabelle, who had done 12% of the preparations told me, “I’m glad I’m learning to be a host but it’s A LOT of work. I need a nap.”
Me too, sister. Try orchestrating a kid’s party AND making sure your cat doesn’t lick her legs.
Dec 6, 2019 | North loving, southern living, What's going on |
I currently have both apple butter and pot roast cooking in my kitchen. If ever there is a time I feel like Betty Crocker, it’s when I have pots bubbling on the stove.
Suddenly it’s December 5th. I’m not sure how that happened but here we are. I’ve been getting snail mail and emails saying “Last minute deals for your last-minute gifts!” in a very bold and panicked font. It’s 20 days until Christmas. I don’t consider that last minute. I’m never in a rush to finish shopping by December 1st. I spend all year making notes and gearing up for the gift-giving season. I consider birthday gifts throughout the year to be warm-up for the Iron Man marathon of Christmas time. I live for this time of year. Don’t be telling me I have mere minutes to wrap up my shopping!
I finished up my Christmas cards last night. I plan out the card in my head for several months and spend many an afternoon perfecting it. This year’s card is not my shining glory. It’s fine but I could have made it better. Christopher and Elizabeth both told me it’s good but my inner perfectionist was screaming it was borderline boring and blah.
The house decorating has been a little rocky. There’s a stack of fake greenery, little village houses and fake berries in the corner of the living room. I’m trying so hard to get everything put together, but I feel a little less Christmasy this year because I was so hoping to buy a stocking for baby Elliot but now I can’t. We put our fake tree up on Sunday and Lucy climbed to the top of it and knock the angel off. Her weight, slim though she is despite all the food she sneaks, is bending and breaking some of the fake limbs. I spent part of the afternoon twisting together pipe cleaners that look like greenery and jerry-rigging the tree back together.
I do love how the mantle turned out. The lights from the mantle and the lights from the tree make the whole living room glow.
Speaking of Christmas and winter, while my family up north are shoveling snow off their cars, we FINALLY have enough leaves to jump in. AB insisted upon bringing her wooden chair out and jumping off it into the leaves.
When you can’t make snow angels you make leaf angels.
Nov 28, 2019 | What's going on |
My car died last weekend. Christopher jumped it on Sunday and it started working, but it was dead again on Monday. Naturally, we had a playdate and four time-sensitive errands scheduled that day. Instead, Christopher came home over lunch to jump it again and I went to buy a new battery. The GPS brought me to the wrong garage so I had to go to an Auto Zone on the other side of town. I think I could identify four items in the entire store- tires, air fresheners, tictacs, and a pocket knife. The very nice man asked if my Rogue is an S, SL or SV. I had no answer to that question. I told him all I know is that it’s a blue Nissan and I like it. I don’t know about cars. He followed that question up with “Is it a four-cylinder?” I got the feeling he wasn’t listening when I told him I DON’T KNOW ABOUT CARS. I’m part of the reason why there’s a stereotype about women not being knowledgeable about cars!
One of our stops after getting the new battery was to drop off our Operation Christmas Child boxes. I’ve been doing them for over 12 years and now AB gets just as excited about packing them. We’ve learned how to really maximize every square inch of the box.
We’ve always included a card, but this year at the homeschool group we were given OCC sheets to color and put in the box. Look at the care with which Sesame drew our house. Such attention to detail and dedication to including all the loving decor touches I’ve labored over.
Annabelle’s future husband invited her to friendsgiving today. She was the only girl in a group of 9 children and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. She kept giving them the side-eye and covering her ears (both of which I wanted to do myself).
It’s not as if she’s always a dainty flower at home. She makes plenty of noise and ruckus by herself. She’s constantly asking, “Do you want to hear how loud I can yell the word ________? Can I have a snack? Can I watch a show? MAAAAAAMMMMMMAAAAA!!!!!”
Her talking could fuel all the vehicles needed to transport the shoeboxes around the world.
Nov 23, 2019 | What's going on |
Last week, Mom, Grandma, and Elizabeth came to visit. They never comment on the state of my house, but I was cleaning and vacuuming like they would arrive with a magnifying glass and sue me for every speck of dust they found. I assure you I’d have lost the million dollars I don’t have if I was fined for every spot left unclean.
The main outing of the trip was a visit to Jimmy Carter’s boyhood home. There isn’t much to do in our town, or within three hours of our town, so JC’s has become The Place to bring visitors. It’s JC’s, the library or the playground. The paparazzi snapped this photo of me playing secret service and escorting Grandma down the stairs while she asked why Jimmy wasn’t going to meet us for lunch. “I come all the way from Massachusetts and he can’t meet me for lunch?”
I’ll be honest. I tried to photoshop my double chin out of this photo. I rely on picmonkey to be my poor man’s botox but sometimes it doesn’t work and I end up looking like a cartoon character. We all have our burdens to bear and multiple chins is one of mine.
I didn’t picture my life one in which my little girl would be playing in a southern cotton field on a breezy 78* day in November, but here I am.
Multiple times a day I tell Sesame she’s my best girl. She always responds with “You’re my best girl too, Mama.” I’ve always wanted her to be close to her relatives but this trip presented an unexpected issue. “Actually Mama, you’re still mostly my best girl but Aunt Squiddzen (Elizabeth’s nickname) is my best girl too. It’s like, her than Grammy than you. You’re still my best girl but more like my third best girl.” Well. That backfired. I’ve promoted them too much. I’ve raised them too high on a pedestal!
She’s still MY best girl.
Oct 25, 2019 | What's going on |
You know the saying “that ship has sailed”? Not only has my ship set sail, I’ve been doing everything I can to keep the sinking ship that is my current life afloat.
The first thing to sink to the bottom of the ocean is my chance for the 2019 Mother of the Year award.
I’ve had to get blood work every few days for almost two weeks and I’ve had to take AB with me every time. We were sitting in the quiet waiting room and she was telling an endless story about her toothbrush. I shouldn’t be surprised when her stories go on fifteen times longer than necessary. She has me for a mother. Tree, meet your apple. Honestly my mind was wondering but it got jerked back to reality quickly when she said, “I was looking for the toothpaste so I looked under the sink. I found some medicine but I thought it was toothpaste so I took the cover off and tasted it. It wasn’t toothpaste. I think it was medicine.” I was mortified.
I have made it a main mission in life to keep her from putting the wrong things in her mouth. The quarter swallowing incident of 2018 was too costly to be repeated. At least once a week we talk about what goes in her mouth and what doesn’t. We’ve had several conversations about not taking medicine that I don’t give her. Ninety-five percent of our medicine is locked up for foster care but somewhere along the line I threw the impetigo medicine under the sink. Again, the waiting room was VERY QUIET and she was not whispering as I had instructed. I swear everyone in the waiting room snapped their head in my direction and started judging the mom who leaves medicine out everywhere. She kept going. “I was like, no. This isn’t the regular toothpaste! I think it’s the hand, foot and mouth medicine. Isn’t that funny?” Yes. It’s hilarious.
If there was any chance left of me receiving Mom of the Year award based on my performance for the last several months, it is now long gone.
A few days ago I turned on my computer to finally do some blogging. Somehow, without my permission or desire, the computer did a factory reset and I lost everything. Every document. Every bookmark. Every school thing I hadn’t backed up. All that was left a random collection of previously deleted things in the recycle bin. I have most of my photos on an external hard drive but I know I lost some. I haven’t had the emotional capacity to look and see exactly what I lost.
Finally, between Christopher being rear-ended and the kitchen sink leaking, I got pregnant. It was much less of an unexpected surprise and more of a very planned event with Dr. John. I’ve had three years of secondary infertility and gone through my fair share of poking, prodding, and very unpleasant appointments. We decided to do IUI in September. Christopher had to be at work during the procedure so I was impregnated by another man while my knowing husband was the next town over. Christopher does not find this as funny as I do, I have to find humor in the situation. Dr. John did his thing then I had to lay on the exam table for 15 minutes. He offered me magazines then asked if I wanted the lights off so I could take a nap. I love an unexpected nap so I agreed. He took my phone, put it on the counter where I couldn’t reach it and said, “If I don’t take your phone you’ll get antsy and start twitting your friends.” That right there is the kind of generational gap I need if I have to have a male doctor up in my business. I need a doctor who doesn’t know that the correct word is “tweeting.” Of course, I started giggling even more because giggling is what I do at the doctor’s office. I really need to find a more adult way of dealing with nervous energy.
The two weeks between the procedure and the day I could take a test were very long. As soon as I took a positive test I went into panic/early nesting mode. I cleaned and organized more in the next week than I have since we moved in. I tried to do 500 days worth of projects in a week. I was sure the hyperemesis from AB’s pregnancy was coming down the pike and I wanted this house whipped into shape before I was laid out for nine months. I never got any pregnancy exhaustion which really helped my mission.
Sadly I think the pregnancy was doomed from the beginning. I had stomach and back pain from within 30 minutes of the IUI. I had several other issues that I won’t describe in detail because as I said earlier, I don’t know when to end a story. I earned my WebMD Masters degree during the short pregnancy. I googled more than I should have and one link for IUI side effects brought me to a site providing housing resources for aboriginal women. The internet is an odd place. Last Tuesday a nurse called and very unsympathetically told me all my numbers were lowering and “it wasn’t going to work out so you can stop the progesterone.” I had lots to do that afternoon but all I did was go home and lay down with my heating pad and cry while Annabelle watched too many shows. With every blood test the numbers went down and the same nurse would call to update me. I love the doctor but I want to put myself on that nurse’s no-call list. She could have been sympathetic while still sharing the facts! Annabelle didn’t understand what was happening. She kept asking, “When will you feel better? Is there a reason you’re sick? Why do we keep going to the doctor?” We weren’t planning on telling her until after my first appointment so I never said what the real problem was. By Thursday it became clear that the baby wasn’t going to stick around and just like that it was all over. It was a very long and emotional month and I am SO TIRED.
It was too early to know the gender. but I wanted the baby to have a name. I think every person should have a name. Good gender-neutral names are hard to come by, but we settled on Elliot. It seems like the right one for our baby.
