I am pretty steamed up right now.
I went to the library to get Brother "Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing" by Judy Blume. (We just finished the Percy Jackson series. Loved. And now it is time for something new.) While the OPAC indicated the books I was looking for were in, they were not on the shelf. Ok. No problem. That happens in the Juvenile section with kids reshelving books at random places. So, I go ask for help. I went to school for two years to get a master's in librarianship! I know that the library workers are there to help. I can ask them questions and not be intimidated! *Ahem* After telling the elder woman that the books I was seeking was in the catalog but not on the shelf, she still spent a good 5 minutes on the computer making sure I wasn't feeding her a line.
Then, she led me to a back room full of just piles of paperbacks that needed to at least be ordered as they were all fiction, but not in the system, to see if there was a copy. She expected me to DIG through a room of books! Pfft. Look lady, I don't have time for this. I am on a quick break from work!
Someone had been working on it at one point...a volunteer. I am not satisfied with the status of my local library system and was looking to get involved in some way and before I could add up all my other responsibilities in my head of all the stuff I should be doing, I blurted out that I would be willing to volunteer to help get them in order and SHE TOLD ME NO.
I am a fucking LIBRARIAN, yo. Scandal. Am highly put out. When you show a patron a huge mess and they offer to clean it up...do you say no? Of Course NOT. Do I look like I can't alphabetize by author last name? Really? I really want to call someone and yell...but I won't. Because you catch more flies with honey. I just need to figure out how to sweeten this situation.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Dear Husband,
Dear Husband,
I hope you don't mind...I have bought myself an Easter present. Although it might be more appropriate for Mother's Day. Take a look...
Only, I custom ordered it to have two eggs (for our two little chickadees) in the nest, as opposed to three.
Hope you don't mind,
Your Adoring Wife
~~~~~~~~
Just do a search on etsy for birds nest necklaces and there are just tons of them. I chose this one because of how it was attached to the chain. It sort of looks floating to me. Isn't it just lovely? Inspired by Swistle's picture, discussed here and here.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Dirty South
Last Friday we got a load of 7 yards of dirt delivered to Our House. Our backyard is really low and the clay soil holds a LOT of water. We have been wanting some dirt for some time and I found a guy who was willing to deliver it on the cheap. So, I called him up on Friday.
M: I would like to get an estimate on a load of dirt and delivery please.
Guy: I got dirt cheap dirt!
M: What is the delivery charge?
Guy: FREE with the purchase of dirt!
M: I'll take it! When can we set up delivery?
Guy: I'll see you in 30 minutes!
Well then.
I was really impressed with the service though. When he did deliver the dirt, he looked at my backyard and said, "Call me when you need another load." Heh. I guess he knew that one just wasn't going to cut it. So, in about one weekend, we almost knocked it out, spreading the dirt into the swampy soupy low places. It felt good to exercise and I am not really sore. But let me tell you, there has been much hollering at children for muddy footprints and muddy clothes and oh-my-god-what-do-you-MEAN-you-didn't-know-they-were-school-shoes???
The kids are partially the reason that we got it done so fast because, oh my horseshit, I cannot live with a giant mound of dirt for the boys to play in. The floors are dirty; there is a constant supply of mucked up clothing and much stripping in the kitchen because you are NOT walking through my house like that. And I am the most half-hearted housekeeper you'd ever want to meet. It reminds me of this when we first moved in and it felt like we lived in a giant dust bowl. Also, it feels like we are taking steps backwards into a construction zone in order to move forward to a yard I can walk all the way across without hip boots. Note to self: buy grass seed when getting bunny chow. SOON.
M: I would like to get an estimate on a load of dirt and delivery please.
Guy: I got dirt cheap dirt!
M: What is the delivery charge?
Guy: FREE with the purchase of dirt!
M: I'll take it! When can we set up delivery?
Guy: I'll see you in 30 minutes!
Well then.
I was really impressed with the service though. When he did deliver the dirt, he looked at my backyard and said, "Call me when you need another load." Heh. I guess he knew that one just wasn't going to cut it. So, in about one weekend, we almost knocked it out, spreading the dirt into the swampy soupy low places. It felt good to exercise and I am not really sore. But let me tell you, there has been much hollering at children for muddy footprints and muddy clothes and oh-my-god-what-do-you-MEAN-you-didn't-know-they-were-school-shoes???
The kids are partially the reason that we got it done so fast because, oh my horseshit, I cannot live with a giant mound of dirt for the boys to play in. The floors are dirty; there is a constant supply of mucked up clothing and much stripping in the kitchen because you are NOT walking through my house like that. And I am the most half-hearted housekeeper you'd ever want to meet. It reminds me of this when we first moved in and it felt like we lived in a giant dust bowl. Also, it feels like we are taking steps backwards into a construction zone in order to move forward to a yard I can walk all the way across without hip boots. Note to self: buy grass seed when getting bunny chow. SOON.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Girly
We went to Honey's childhood town yesterday to visit with relatives and late in the day, my children were galloping and screaming across the golf-course quality grass in bare feet, climbing under azaleas as fat bumblebees swooped over our heads, too full of nectar to care about children hiding in the pink and purple and white skirts of the bushes. I got a few twiggy blueberry bushes to grow in my own yard. Granny's own blueberries in my yard. I am thrilled beyond words. Seeing the land in wild riotous blooms reminded me of last year, when we saw Granny for the last time before her sudden illness. I remember walking along with her and viewing the gargantuan bushes, her saying how glad she was that we could come while everything was dressed in its spring finest. My heart aches and my eyes swim.
Earlier in the day we were at Honey's brother's home and he and his wife have a yummy roly-poly little girl, just one-year-old. She is just breathtaking with her bird's wing hair and chubby thighs. *Sigh* I want a girl baby. And, three, count 'em three of my neighbors are all pregnant with girl babies. Two of them are due next month and I am just a bit melancholy about how I will never be mother of the bride. I will never be able to go to mother/daughter activities. I will never have a daughter to dress up or have cause to teach Honey how to braid long hair. I worry that when my sons grow up, I will lose them to their partner's families. It always seems like the daughters stay and maintain relationships with their families of origin, but the sons seem to mesh in with their partner's families. I know that is how it is with us. We see Honey's family, maybe 3 to 4 times a year. We see my parents every weekend.
I guess I am still adjusting to the self-inflicted 'no more babies' thing. Honey doesn't want anymore and I am at at the point where I just want to focus on the children I have and making their lives the very best I can. Still, I always thought I would have a little girl and dreams. God. They just die so hard, you know?
Earlier in the day we were at Honey's brother's home and he and his wife have a yummy roly-poly little girl, just one-year-old. She is just breathtaking with her bird's wing hair and chubby thighs. *Sigh* I want a girl baby. And, three, count 'em three of my neighbors are all pregnant with girl babies. Two of them are due next month and I am just a bit melancholy about how I will never be mother of the bride. I will never be able to go to mother/daughter activities. I will never have a daughter to dress up or have cause to teach Honey how to braid long hair. I worry that when my sons grow up, I will lose them to their partner's families. It always seems like the daughters stay and maintain relationships with their families of origin, but the sons seem to mesh in with their partner's families. I know that is how it is with us. We see Honey's family, maybe 3 to 4 times a year. We see my parents every weekend.
I guess I am still adjusting to the self-inflicted 'no more babies' thing. Honey doesn't want anymore and I am at at the point where I just want to focus on the children I have and making their lives the very best I can. Still, I always thought I would have a little girl and dreams. God. They just die so hard, you know?
Monday, March 16, 2009
Water Bored
Jelly Bean is sick. He has pneumonitis, which is either pre-pneumonia or a deep bronchitis. Take your pick. I took him to the Emergency Clinic yesterday and to his regular pediatrician today. Yesterday, while his breathing was labored and he was using his abdominals to help him breathe, this didn't stop him from being a holy terror. The stupid clinic had those automatic doors that swung open whenever you stood in front of them. Guess how many times I had to chase the so-called "deathly ill" Bean into the parking lot?
In the mean time, he made a discovery. Oh, and it was sooo bad. I wish it had never happened. Jelly Bean discovered...the water fountain.
Oh, bane of every mother's existence and could only have been invented by a man...who had no children. It started out like this. Jelly Bean had a pacifier and he dropped it onto the E Coli infested, MRSA encrusted waiting room floor. So, I asked Brother to rinse it off in the drinking fountain. Mistake NUMERO UNO. For the next hour, I looked like I had a tack in my seat because I keep jumping up unexpectedly to fend off Jelly Bean chucking his pacifier into the water fountain screeching, "Rinse it! Rinse it!"
So, a few chest x-rays, a scary sounding diagnosis, and $100.00 in prescription drugs later, we are home and he is still laboring to breathe. When it seems to get worse in the night, I call first thing to make an appointment with his regular pediatrician. It is Monday morning early appointments and everyone's sick kid is laying on their laps wrapped in last night's blankets, looking like death warmed over. Of COURSE Jelly Bean is hopping around like a cat on a hot tin roof. A kind lady with a very sick little boy sees me standing next to her and moves her purse. She smiles at me to sit down. I smile back and explain to her that Jelly is going to take off any second and sitting while we wait is really not an option for me. And then. He spies it.
WhyOWhyOWhyOWHY ME? The water fountain.
"Mommy! Meed a grink! Meed a grink a water!" So, I grasp him around the belly and hold him up to get a sip. Mistake NUMERO DOS! We spend the next 30 minutes running around the waiting room and making/complying with demands for a "grink of water!" (It was either that and running around and screaming.) He figures out that if he stands on the chair next to the water fountain, I don't have to hold him but rather just turn the water on. He leans forward and sticks his tongue out and the stream of water hits it like a splash board, spraying pneumonitis germs all over the waiting room. I look around to see if the other parents are giving me the evil eye. So, I try to teach him to suck the water in through puckered lips. And he makes the lips! So, we try again, but instead of sucking...he blows...pneumonitis germs all over the waiting room. I surreptitiously glance around for disapproval once more. One last hurrah: I pucker my lips and put his hand to my mouth so he can feel me sucking the air in. I turn on the water for another try. He puckers his lips and sucks in some water... and begins hacking and coughing pneumonitis germs all over the waiting room. There is water all over the waiting room chairs in our general vicinity so I did the only thing I could think of doing.
I sat Jelly Bean down on a wet chair and made him scootch around until his butt mopped up the pneumonitis germs. It is only fair, really. We get in to see the doctor and he essentially rolled his eyes at me and told me to not worry so much because Look! He is fine! (Suuuure, NOW he's fine.) And to try to some home remedies of steam and back patting to loosen things up and get the gunk out.
Oh, this kid. Someone tell me where the 'chill' switch is.
In the mean time, he made a discovery. Oh, and it was sooo bad. I wish it had never happened. Jelly Bean discovered...the water fountain.
Oh, bane of every mother's existence and could only have been invented by a man...who had no children. It started out like this. Jelly Bean had a pacifier and he dropped it onto the E Coli infested, MRSA encrusted waiting room floor. So, I asked Brother to rinse it off in the drinking fountain. Mistake NUMERO UNO. For the next hour, I looked like I had a tack in my seat because I keep jumping up unexpectedly to fend off Jelly Bean chucking his pacifier into the water fountain screeching, "Rinse it! Rinse it!"
So, a few chest x-rays, a scary sounding diagnosis, and $100.00 in prescription drugs later, we are home and he is still laboring to breathe. When it seems to get worse in the night, I call first thing to make an appointment with his regular pediatrician. It is Monday morning early appointments and everyone's sick kid is laying on their laps wrapped in last night's blankets, looking like death warmed over. Of COURSE Jelly Bean is hopping around like a cat on a hot tin roof. A kind lady with a very sick little boy sees me standing next to her and moves her purse. She smiles at me to sit down. I smile back and explain to her that Jelly is going to take off any second and sitting while we wait is really not an option for me. And then. He spies it.
WhyOWhyOWhyOWHY ME? The water fountain.
"Mommy! Meed a grink! Meed a grink a water!" So, I grasp him around the belly and hold him up to get a sip. Mistake NUMERO DOS! We spend the next 30 minutes running around the waiting room and making/complying with demands for a "grink of water!" (It was either that and running around and screaming.) He figures out that if he stands on the chair next to the water fountain, I don't have to hold him but rather just turn the water on. He leans forward and sticks his tongue out and the stream of water hits it like a splash board, spraying pneumonitis germs all over the waiting room. I look around to see if the other parents are giving me the evil eye. So, I try to teach him to suck the water in through puckered lips. And he makes the lips! So, we try again, but instead of sucking...he blows...pneumonitis germs all over the waiting room. I surreptitiously glance around for disapproval once more. One last hurrah: I pucker my lips and put his hand to my mouth so he can feel me sucking the air in. I turn on the water for another try. He puckers his lips and sucks in some water... and begins hacking and coughing pneumonitis germs all over the waiting room. There is water all over the waiting room chairs in our general vicinity so I did the only thing I could think of doing.
I sat Jelly Bean down on a wet chair and made him scootch around until his butt mopped up the pneumonitis germs. It is only fair, really. We get in to see the doctor and he essentially rolled his eyes at me and told me to not worry so much because Look! He is fine! (Suuuure, NOW he's fine.) And to try to some home remedies of steam and back patting to loosen things up and get the gunk out.
Oh, this kid. Someone tell me where the 'chill' switch is.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Pissy
So, anyway. I am pissed at the daycare yet again because they are switching his teacher yet again and they have 20 million kids on roll and they just generally suck. I also hate how they never tell me stuff, I just show up one day and the teacher is gone. *Poof* and I am all "When's Teacher Lady coming in?" And they are all, "Oh, she is in another class now. Here have this 19-year-old college student who is still hung over from last night's escapades to potty train your kid." And I am all, "Grrrr."
Ok, so maybe I am exaggerating. I just get disappointed so often with them. But Jelly really loves it there. He doesn't want to go home in the evenings because he wants to play and I think he has such a great time. So, maybe my Type A self needs to chill a bit. It just makes me sad how they are constantly transitioning and how he never has a teacher for more than a month at a time it seems.
Still, am getting referrals to other places. Just to see, you know? But I have a feeling, in this backwards Southern state, it is just going to be crappy.
Ok, so maybe I am exaggerating. I just get disappointed so often with them. But Jelly really loves it there. He doesn't want to go home in the evenings because he wants to play and I think he has such a great time. So, maybe my Type A self needs to chill a bit. It just makes me sad how they are constantly transitioning and how he never has a teacher for more than a month at a time it seems.
Still, am getting referrals to other places. Just to see, you know? But I have a feeling, in this backwards Southern state, it is just going to be crappy.
Monday, March 2, 2009
When I Grow Up
Do you ever feel like you are still figuring out who you are? Like there are still a million choices to be made and every day you have to decide who you will be? Or do you feel like your life has flown by and all the important decisions have already been irreparably made and no matter what you do, you will always be the way you are. Ug.
I feel both ways.
Sometimes I feel like I have to choose. I have to make a decision about what I want to be and the interests I want to have. It is all about resource allocation. I only have so much time/energy/money. What do I spend it on? Do I want dance classes or voice lessons or paint for Brother's room? Do I want moss to make terrariums like they have on etsy or do I want to buy soft drinks? Do I want to buy more bagged dirt or hire someone to bring it to the house? Should I go buy the kids more shoes because theirs are worn? Or should I wait because the second I go buy new shoes, their feet will have grown and they won't fit? Do I want to make pasta or rice with dinner? Do I want to read that novel or learn Spanish? Do I want to be a mother of two or a mother of three? Should I go to the grocery store or the pet store? Do I want fries with that?
At the same time, I feel like every minute is ticking by filled with indecision and loss. Loss of my younger years and all of the choices I could have made, but didn't for some reason. Loss of my children's babyhood. Loss of my figure. Loss of spontaneity. Like I can never go back and live in my parent's house and feel that weightlessness of irresponsibility. I won't ever feel the pangs of freshly found love. I won't ever again hold a new baby to my breast and know it is mine. I won't ever again savor a Chicken Monterrey Ranch sandwich from Wendy's.
Today, I wonder if I will ever know "who I am." How do you figure out such a stable thing in such a tumultuous life, where every decision you make reflects your goals and values? Don't we grow and change everyday, just trying to choose the best course on this all too brief journey? Right now, I feel as if the world is full of infinite possibilities and at the same time is full of infinite "ways it could have been." And it is not a melancholy feeling, because I have made some good choices and the possibilities for the future shine much more brightly than the paths I didn't choose.
I feel both ways.
Sometimes I feel like I have to choose. I have to make a decision about what I want to be and the interests I want to have. It is all about resource allocation. I only have so much time/energy/money. What do I spend it on? Do I want dance classes or voice lessons or paint for Brother's room? Do I want moss to make terrariums like they have on etsy or do I want to buy soft drinks? Do I want to buy more bagged dirt or hire someone to bring it to the house? Should I go buy the kids more shoes because theirs are worn? Or should I wait because the second I go buy new shoes, their feet will have grown and they won't fit? Do I want to make pasta or rice with dinner? Do I want to read that novel or learn Spanish? Do I want to be a mother of two or a mother of three? Should I go to the grocery store or the pet store? Do I want fries with that?
At the same time, I feel like every minute is ticking by filled with indecision and loss. Loss of my younger years and all of the choices I could have made, but didn't for some reason. Loss of my children's babyhood. Loss of my figure. Loss of spontaneity. Like I can never go back and live in my parent's house and feel that weightlessness of irresponsibility. I won't ever feel the pangs of freshly found love. I won't ever again hold a new baby to my breast and know it is mine. I won't ever again savor a Chicken Monterrey Ranch sandwich from Wendy's.
Today, I wonder if I will ever know "who I am." How do you figure out such a stable thing in such a tumultuous life, where every decision you make reflects your goals and values? Don't we grow and change everyday, just trying to choose the best course on this all too brief journey? Right now, I feel as if the world is full of infinite possibilities and at the same time is full of infinite "ways it could have been." And it is not a melancholy feeling, because I have made some good choices and the possibilities for the future shine much more brightly than the paths I didn't choose.
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