Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Head Pats and Snuggles
I give 'em all the time. I want some. Boo-hoo, me. Tonight, I did get a little petting. Baby Taz turned 2 on November 1st, and his big gift was a bunk bed that rocks my socks. We got Sir H the canopy for his top bunk, which, when the lights are out, reflects ambient light on the little white spots and makes it look like stars, or snowflakes. Y'all, it is heaven on earth. Sir H was coming into our room every night about 2-3 am, and as he prefers to sleep his-knees-to-our-kidneys, it was getting really old. He informed me that the canopy "doesn't let bad guys or bad dreams in", so he's all set, thank you very much. Taz (no longer Baby, fill in all those conflicted maternal feelings we feel as our babes grow up), has eschewed the awesome and comfy lower bunk (whose mattress sits directly on the floor, ergo, making me feel as if it is safe enough for him) in favor of sneaking up to Sir H's top bunk and entangling himself in Sir H's limbs, there dozing off into blissful sleep. Sir H loves it. Honestly.
Point being, my now 2-year-old, my almost five-year-old, my 33-week pregnant belly, and my 5'9" self were all crammed into the top bunk (yep, it's a twin size!) reading tonight. I turned the light out and as Sir H was juuuuuuust this side of sleep, I wanted to stay until he dozed off all the way. I was lying in between my precious boys, one mostly asleep and still, and the other just wiggling and humming and whispering stuff that I could NOT understand, but he didn't care, and I already felt blessed. Then, these tiny 2-year-old hands reached out for my face, and started patting my cheek. He sucks his thumb, so he was madly getting after his thumb with one hand, and with the other, rubbed and patted my hair and my face for a solid minute or two. I just about swooned. Then, his fingers wandered to the front of my face and he attempted to drive his pointer finger into my eye socket, so I figured that the patting and snuggling was over. I just love them.
Point being, my now 2-year-old, my almost five-year-old, my 33-week pregnant belly, and my 5'9" self were all crammed into the top bunk (yep, it's a twin size!) reading tonight. I turned the light out and as Sir H was juuuuuuust this side of sleep, I wanted to stay until he dozed off all the way. I was lying in between my precious boys, one mostly asleep and still, and the other just wiggling and humming and whispering stuff that I could NOT understand, but he didn't care, and I already felt blessed. Then, these tiny 2-year-old hands reached out for my face, and started patting my cheek. He sucks his thumb, so he was madly getting after his thumb with one hand, and with the other, rubbed and patted my hair and my face for a solid minute or two. I just about swooned. Then, his fingers wandered to the front of my face and he attempted to drive his pointer finger into my eye socket, so I figured that the patting and snuggling was over. I just love them.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Taking care of Mama
I've been really struggling lately. I was reevaluating my medications, my sleep habits, my diet, all the things that can make one feel off or grumpy or just plain weary. Everything seems to be in order, and I'm not having any emotional or physical symptoms that would be red flags for depression or anything, so I was really confused for a few weeks, wonderful what the hell is wrong with me. It clicked a few days ago: I'm all tapped out. I'm touched out, I'm pregnant-ed out, I'm giving-ed out, I'm patient-ed out, I'm altrustically void. And guess what? That's.....OH-KAY! It was actually a really interesting (to me) way that it clicked, I kind of have to be smacked in the face to really get that I'm not taking care of myself. So many of us are other-focused, especially with young kids and a household to run, or a career, that we neglect our own care until we are in shambles. So, I needed a big old SIGN FROM THE UNIVERSE, apparently.
I was putting away some papers into my obsessive-compulsive outlet file folder that keeps me from going crazy, and I stumbled across a few pages of notes that I made about a year ago. It was the first meeting of my new group that I was heading up at our old church, which focused on praying for our kids. I really feel passionately about moms taking care of ourselves, so my whole first group meeting was focused on taking care of yourself so that you can take care of your kids. I sat on the floor and realized that for the last (how long have I been pregnant? Thirty-billion years?), I've been putting the oxygen mask on the kids over and over and not only putting myself last, but neglecting to put it on at all. You know, like in the event of an emergency, on a plane? No? Okay. Just me, then.
Rereading my notes, I rediscovered this story. I don't remember anything about the origin, I don't remember finding it, but I remember that it made me feel the same way then that it did today.
A few hikers in the forest came across a man attempting to saw down a tree. They offered to help, but he politely declined. Upon their return trek, five hours later, they saw the same man, at the same tree, still sawing, and not having made much progress. One of the hikers suggested, "Why don't you take a moment to sharpen your saw?" And the man frantically replied, "I can't! I'm too busy sawing!"
How many times have I sat there and tried to parent, tried to clean, organize, accomplish, change, and I am left feeling thwarted and frustrated? But if someone comes along and suggests that I shine up my parenting, cleaning, organizing, et. al, tools, my immediate response is one of shock and denial. I CAN'T go get a massage! I don't have the time! The money! The willingness! I can't get my hair cut! I don't have a babysitter! But when I plan ahead, and make those things happen, my tools are sharpened, and I think we all know how much better we feel and how things just seem to go much more smoothly. It doesn't have to be indulgent stuff like manis and pedis, either. I have given up feeling guilty for napping when Baby Taz naps, when I could be foldinglaundryvacuumingpickingupknittingmakinglistscooking the list is, literally, endless. I stop and play cars when Sir H asks me to. But guess what? If I really don't want to play cars? I don't. And I'm working on not feeling guilty about it.
A while back, I was talking to my daddy about the anxieties of parenting and the worry I carry around about screwing up my kids. Another common concern among mothers, I know, and because I already deal with an anxiety disorder, I can really allow myself to get bogged down in it. I was having a great conversation with my wise father about it, and I said something quite close to, "Because, you know, taking care of my kids is The Most Important Job I will ever have." He became quiet for a moment, thinking, then responded, "I disagree. I think your most important job is taking care of your kids' mother."
As if that weren't kick in the pants enough, I was talking to my mother last night about some difficulties, and she said, "It breaks my heart that I can't take care of your problems for you. So, will you do something? Will you take care of my daughter for me?"
Okay.
Okay.
I don't know how, but I'm learning.
I was putting away some papers into my obsessive-compulsive outlet file folder that keeps me from going crazy, and I stumbled across a few pages of notes that I made about a year ago. It was the first meeting of my new group that I was heading up at our old church, which focused on praying for our kids. I really feel passionately about moms taking care of ourselves, so my whole first group meeting was focused on taking care of yourself so that you can take care of your kids. I sat on the floor and realized that for the last (how long have I been pregnant? Thirty-billion years?), I've been putting the oxygen mask on the kids over and over and not only putting myself last, but neglecting to put it on at all. You know, like in the event of an emergency, on a plane? No? Okay. Just me, then.
Rereading my notes, I rediscovered this story. I don't remember anything about the origin, I don't remember finding it, but I remember that it made me feel the same way then that it did today.
A few hikers in the forest came across a man attempting to saw down a tree. They offered to help, but he politely declined. Upon their return trek, five hours later, they saw the same man, at the same tree, still sawing, and not having made much progress. One of the hikers suggested, "Why don't you take a moment to sharpen your saw?" And the man frantically replied, "I can't! I'm too busy sawing!"
How many times have I sat there and tried to parent, tried to clean, organize, accomplish, change, and I am left feeling thwarted and frustrated? But if someone comes along and suggests that I shine up my parenting, cleaning, organizing, et. al, tools, my immediate response is one of shock and denial. I CAN'T go get a massage! I don't have the time! The money! The willingness! I can't get my hair cut! I don't have a babysitter! But when I plan ahead, and make those things happen, my tools are sharpened, and I think we all know how much better we feel and how things just seem to go much more smoothly. It doesn't have to be indulgent stuff like manis and pedis, either. I have given up feeling guilty for napping when Baby Taz naps, when I could be foldinglaundryvacuumingpickingupknittingmakinglistscooking the list is, literally, endless. I stop and play cars when Sir H asks me to. But guess what? If I really don't want to play cars? I don't. And I'm working on not feeling guilty about it.
A while back, I was talking to my daddy about the anxieties of parenting and the worry I carry around about screwing up my kids. Another common concern among mothers, I know, and because I already deal with an anxiety disorder, I can really allow myself to get bogged down in it. I was having a great conversation with my wise father about it, and I said something quite close to, "Because, you know, taking care of my kids is The Most Important Job I will ever have." He became quiet for a moment, thinking, then responded, "I disagree. I think your most important job is taking care of your kids' mother."
As if that weren't kick in the pants enough, I was talking to my mother last night about some difficulties, and she said, "It breaks my heart that I can't take care of your problems for you. So, will you do something? Will you take care of my daughter for me?"
Okay.
Okay.
I don't know how, but I'm learning.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Pregnancy
Well, if the Old Wives' Tales have any validity at all, this little sucker is not only a girl, but a really strong-willed one. This is most definitely our last baby, The Huz and I are in more than 100% agreement about that. There will be no Business Happening until someone gets fixed permanently, of that we both agree. Ergo, I'm doing all those things I always wanted to do. First, we're not finding out the sex of this baby, second, I'm committed to not getting an epidural barring unforseeable complications, and third...um, something else cool.
But, wow, how different this one has been. With the boys, I felt nauseated with them, fairly constantly for a few long weeks during the first trimester. With this one, I was chained to the toilet, or had to carry a plastic bag with me from week 6 until week 16. Now, that's what I call FUN. I had no trouble sleeping with either of the boys, I napped like crazy and slept 12 hours at night. This time, I'm plagued with insomnia and lie awake for hours at night, no matter how exhausted I am. I'm also carrying very differently, my belly is all out in front and straight and all my weight is in the belly, which is great, but with both boys, I got a little heavier everywhere, and I carried much further back in my body. I also have a fantastically uncomfortable umbical hernia, which is really becoming exacerbated now that the belly is getting bigger. Anytime I sneeze, laugh too hard or forget to tighten my (quickly vanishing) ab muscles, it pops out and oh, it hurts. It feels like a particularly sensitive bruise, and any time it is touched, even if I accidentally brush it against something, it radiates pain. Super comfy. Of course, the boys think it's really cool that my belly button (or "bey butt" as Baby Taz calls it) sticks out so far, so they're always randomly poking at it, and wow, it's almost always unexpected. Then, of course, it's high-LAR-ious that Mommy jumps that high when we stick our finger in her bey butt, so let's sneak up on her and do it again!
I'm coming through much of the ambivalence to a place of peace and excitement. I've had some really wonderful bonding moments in the last few weeks, and I hold on to the thought that each time I've been pregnant, I've been terrified. That pregnancy, for me, is definitely not the exciting thing. I'm not a woman that loves, or even particularly likes, being pregnant. I didn't particularly like being engaged. I was engaged for the purpose of being married, and I'm pregnant for the purpose of mothering my sweet babies. Now that I have two pregnancies under my belt, I can at least accept that even if it does make me cold-hearted, pregnancy doesn't do a thing to make me feel all warm and cuddly, but once that baby is born, I will sacrifice anything and everything (except my other babies) for that child, and nothing can come between us. I don't really believe it now, but I do know it will happen.
I wonder what the baby will look like? It's fun to postulate. For some reason, the sex isn't all that important to me anymore. I was so scared of having a girl that I could have fainted, but now, I can see all the wonderful attributes of having a daughter. When Sir H started his preschool year at the beginning of September, we had Annual School Haircut Day, and the big boys (The Huz and Sir H) lined up for cuts. I had just gotten a Mini Boden catalog in the mail, and had spent at least an hour poring through the pictures of the younger boys, trying to find a style that I liked that would work with Sir H's hair. I had it narrowed down to three, and the next night, I excitedly took the pictures into the dining room at dinner to show the Huz and Sir H. I sat down and told them that I had been looking through the catalog, had some pictures to show them, elaborated on each hairstyle and how it would work with his hair texture, and then asked them for their opinions and looked up as I waited for their responses. My eyes met a blank stare (Sir H) and a slightly frightened and overwhelmed wide-eyed look (The Huz). We sat in silence as about 5 seconds ticked by, and I finally sighed and said, "I need a daughter, don't I." Sir H recommenced shoveling food into his mouth and The Huz took a deep breath when he saw that he was off the hook and nodded his head emphatically, just happy not to have had to make a choice.
For the record, the haircuts turned out seriously kickass.
But, wow, how different this one has been. With the boys, I felt nauseated with them, fairly constantly for a few long weeks during the first trimester. With this one, I was chained to the toilet, or had to carry a plastic bag with me from week 6 until week 16. Now, that's what I call FUN. I had no trouble sleeping with either of the boys, I napped like crazy and slept 12 hours at night. This time, I'm plagued with insomnia and lie awake for hours at night, no matter how exhausted I am. I'm also carrying very differently, my belly is all out in front and straight and all my weight is in the belly, which is great, but with both boys, I got a little heavier everywhere, and I carried much further back in my body. I also have a fantastically uncomfortable umbical hernia, which is really becoming exacerbated now that the belly is getting bigger. Anytime I sneeze, laugh too hard or forget to tighten my (quickly vanishing) ab muscles, it pops out and oh, it hurts. It feels like a particularly sensitive bruise, and any time it is touched, even if I accidentally brush it against something, it radiates pain. Super comfy. Of course, the boys think it's really cool that my belly button (or "bey butt" as Baby Taz calls it) sticks out so far, so they're always randomly poking at it, and wow, it's almost always unexpected. Then, of course, it's high-LAR-ious that Mommy jumps that high when we stick our finger in her bey butt, so let's sneak up on her and do it again!
I'm coming through much of the ambivalence to a place of peace and excitement. I've had some really wonderful bonding moments in the last few weeks, and I hold on to the thought that each time I've been pregnant, I've been terrified. That pregnancy, for me, is definitely not the exciting thing. I'm not a woman that loves, or even particularly likes, being pregnant. I didn't particularly like being engaged. I was engaged for the purpose of being married, and I'm pregnant for the purpose of mothering my sweet babies. Now that I have two pregnancies under my belt, I can at least accept that even if it does make me cold-hearted, pregnancy doesn't do a thing to make me feel all warm and cuddly, but once that baby is born, I will sacrifice anything and everything (except my other babies) for that child, and nothing can come between us. I don't really believe it now, but I do know it will happen.
I wonder what the baby will look like? It's fun to postulate. For some reason, the sex isn't all that important to me anymore. I was so scared of having a girl that I could have fainted, but now, I can see all the wonderful attributes of having a daughter. When Sir H started his preschool year at the beginning of September, we had Annual School Haircut Day, and the big boys (The Huz and Sir H) lined up for cuts. I had just gotten a Mini Boden catalog in the mail, and had spent at least an hour poring through the pictures of the younger boys, trying to find a style that I liked that would work with Sir H's hair. I had it narrowed down to three, and the next night, I excitedly took the pictures into the dining room at dinner to show the Huz and Sir H. I sat down and told them that I had been looking through the catalog, had some pictures to show them, elaborated on each hairstyle and how it would work with his hair texture, and then asked them for their opinions and looked up as I waited for their responses. My eyes met a blank stare (Sir H) and a slightly frightened and overwhelmed wide-eyed look (The Huz). We sat in silence as about 5 seconds ticked by, and I finally sighed and said, "I need a daughter, don't I." Sir H recommenced shoveling food into his mouth and The Huz took a deep breath when he saw that he was off the hook and nodded his head emphatically, just happy not to have had to make a choice.
For the record, the haircuts turned out seriously kickass.
The Joys of Dorkiness
So, I'm pulling out of the Chili's parking lot (the baby was demanding a molten chocolate cake), and I'm imagining telling The Huz about my doctor's visit and having the conversation in my head about what I wanted to tell him about my weight gain and how I'm getting close to my personal limit, and I was getting all worked up about my unhappiness about gaining 3 pounds this month, even though I know it's not that much, and I am totally talking out loud, as if The Huz is there in the car with me, because that's how I roll, right? So, I'm backing up, and I realize all at the same time that not only am I using facial expressions, emphasizing words and USING HAND GESTURES, but I'm also being stared at by a dude with his girlfriend/wife, whom, I realize, has been staring for longer than a second, and thinking that I have lost my damn mind. For some reason, I was so embarassed that I cared what Someguy thought that I TOTALLY put my hand up to my ear, as if I were wearing a Bluetooth, and kept talking, as if I WEREN'T crazy, and had been actually on the invisible phone the whole time and it was all cool and whatevs, dude, so quit staring. I'm pretty sure I even laughed breezily at something "The Huz said". I scare myself. Your turn. Please.
Friday, June 6, 2008
I've been avoiding putting up an update
because not everyone knew about our news! However, my sweet mother is so excited that as of last week, pretty much everyone that would read this in my real life has been informed that we are expecting a third babe, and now that the shock and awe has (mostly) worn off, we are getting pretty excited! The Huz just got back from a three day trip out of town for work, and I got quite overwhelmed wondering how I would handle three small people all on my own in times like that. But, I remember two years ago, being terrified about adding a second child, and wondering how I could possibly be a good mom to two kids at the same time, and my boys seem fairly content, so I keep hanging on to the idea that we'll figure it out the same way.
Since this was quite the surprise, we don't have an exact date for the arrival, like we did for the boys, which is quite the challenge for a person who already struggles with anxiety. It's been a battle to let that go and remember that the baby will arrive when s/he is supposed to, and we do know within a few days, at least, when the conception happened, but I like to know Exactly When That Was, so I'm learning in this journey, too, as often happens. Funny how that is. We plan to find out the gender, but since I'm only 10 weeks along, we have time until then. I've been knitting tiny things like crazy, and my first pair of longies seem giant for a newborn, but may fit a one-year-old, so they may go in the drawer for a long while! Knitting newborn pants is much faster than knitting something for Baby Taz, that's for sure (pictures coming soon to show off my new yarn)!
Anyway, when we first went in to confirm the pregnancy and that it was viable and healthy, and get dates, it was just a few days too early to see a heartbeat, so all we saw was the embryo as a white spot inside of the gestational sac, so baby's nickname became Spot, and has stuck with him or her, ergo, when I reference Spot, it will be the little guy growing in there and making me sick all day long (hopefully not for much longer!). Spot's due on Sir H's birthday, on 12/31, and we'll see how that pans out when we get close, my best guess will be that the arrival will be a few days before that, because I think the conception was actually two days before, and I think I will follow the pattern I've set with the boys: Sir H was birthed at 40w6d, Baby Taz at 40w1d, and I think this one will be either 40w1d or 40w on the dot (or spot, heh).
Feel free to make gender and birthdate predictions, love to hear them!
Since this was quite the surprise, we don't have an exact date for the arrival, like we did for the boys, which is quite the challenge for a person who already struggles with anxiety. It's been a battle to let that go and remember that the baby will arrive when s/he is supposed to, and we do know within a few days, at least, when the conception happened, but I like to know Exactly When That Was, so I'm learning in this journey, too, as often happens. Funny how that is. We plan to find out the gender, but since I'm only 10 weeks along, we have time until then. I've been knitting tiny things like crazy, and my first pair of longies seem giant for a newborn, but may fit a one-year-old, so they may go in the drawer for a long while! Knitting newborn pants is much faster than knitting something for Baby Taz, that's for sure (pictures coming soon to show off my new yarn)!
Anyway, when we first went in to confirm the pregnancy and that it was viable and healthy, and get dates, it was just a few days too early to see a heartbeat, so all we saw was the embryo as a white spot inside of the gestational sac, so baby's nickname became Spot, and has stuck with him or her, ergo, when I reference Spot, it will be the little guy growing in there and making me sick all day long (hopefully not for much longer!). Spot's due on Sir H's birthday, on 12/31, and we'll see how that pans out when we get close, my best guess will be that the arrival will be a few days before that, because I think the conception was actually two days before, and I think I will follow the pattern I've set with the boys: Sir H was birthed at 40w6d, Baby Taz at 40w1d, and I think this one will be either 40w1d or 40w on the dot (or spot, heh).
Feel free to make gender and birthdate predictions, love to hear them!
Monday, April 21, 2008
Yarny Goodness
I'm making some slippers out of this delicious yarn. I'm so not a slippers girl, but I have Reynaud's Syndrome, a fancy name for my-toes-go-numb-and-lose-feeling-at-random-times-mostly-when-cold. So, I fell in love with these little guys. You know you're jealous.I've finished the actual shoes, and it took me about 4 tries to figure out the attached I-cord, but I finally got it. I ditched her directions and used my own, and we'll see...pictures will come when I am finished!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Stifling One's Laughter In Order to Appear Disciplinary
I just had to tell Sir H to "go back to bed" for the forty-eleventh time tonight, and he walked away, kicked at the floor and muttered, "That's the most ridic-yee-lus thing I've ever heard."
Sunday, April 13, 2008
April
So I've been knitting like crazy, it keeps me from killing people. Or poking them with sharp sticks. So far, I have refrained from poking small people (or the large one) with the needles. Cross your fingers that I will continue in that successful vein.
In other news, I took my first pictures of my products for my Etsy shop, which is currently empty, but exists, at henryandco.etsy.com. I'm really looking forward to doing some business again. I've missed it.
Oh, and quick note - Sir H is still royalty, but The Bear has more than earned his new appelation...Baby Taz. As in the Tasmanian Devil from Looney Tunes. He is a whirling dervish, and makes quite the hilarious noises and "talking" that is remarkably like the baby version on the Baby Looney Tunes version.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Well, butter my biscuit and call me Sally...
Uncle R. was only 64. That's just astounding. That's so young! The Huz is in Chicago for the wake and funeral. I was going to go, we were trying to figure out how to juggle the kiddos, maybe take The Bear, since I can still carry him as a lap child, and fly back the same day, but then I found out it was an open casket. *gulp*
I'm not skeeved out by death, I believe in a wonderful afterlife, and that death is merely the beginning of the rest of our eternity, but I'm not particularly interested in sitting in the same room with Uncle R's body for 6 hours for a wake. Uh-uh. That clinched it for me. So, The Huz is there, we're here and missing him, and hoping that the family is able to grieve and find peace in the joy of Uncle R's life.
I'm not skeeved out by death, I believe in a wonderful afterlife, and that death is merely the beginning of the rest of our eternity, but I'm not particularly interested in sitting in the same room with Uncle R's body for 6 hours for a wake. Uh-uh. That clinched it for me. So, The Huz is there, we're here and missing him, and hoping that the family is able to grieve and find peace in the joy of Uncle R's life.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Rest in Peace, Dear Uncle R.
We lost a wonderful person on Saturday. The Huz's only uncle, to whom he felt very close, and his mother's only living relative besides a distant cousin, died after a few weeks of illness. He has lived for a long time with many different ailments, so his 72 years were truly a miracle, especially that he was able to continue to work, travel and do all the other things he loved. Uncle R. was truly a bright light in the world, and our lives will be a bit dimmer without his presence.
Wherever he went, he left a trail of smiles around him. He constantly poked fun at himself, but never joked at the expense of others. He always had a kind word to say to those around him. I literally cannot count the number of times he said my children were "lucky to have such a wonderful mother". How could you not love him? He was a handsome man, in a goofily endearing type of way. He had white grey hair, with a bulbous nose and a slight lisp, a heavily Chicagoan accent, and shuffled everywhere he went. He was extremely comfortable in his own skin, and it wasn't unusual to hear his feet shuffling into the kitchen at 10 pm for his midnight snack (since he went to bed at 6 pm), sneaking a sugary snack behind his sister's back (his personal food police), and then hearing a fart escape and him remarking, "Hmmm...must have stepped on a frog or something..." and then his feet shuffling back to the bedroom.
He was up for any adventure, and for his 70th birthday, he treated us to a vacation in Hawai'i, where we were able to enjoy a week of Uncle R's presence and geniality and good humor and leave relaxed and refreshed. Watching the close relationship between he and his sister, my mother-in-law, made me long for a brother, and reminded me of the importance to call my sister as soon as I got back home.
He was an avid collector of art, and since he was a humble man, I walked into his 3-story Riverside home, after knowing him for 6 years, to find that his walls were lined with original Picassos, Monets, Cassatts and numerous other works by Huge Names and local artists, just hanging on the wall in a home without any sort of special climate control or lighting. Around every corner was a new find, staying there was like living in the novel From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler for three days.
His life partner, T., not often spoken of in The Huz's family, due to their unspoken agreement to ignore Uncle R's predilection to The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name, was a kind and quiet man, and the two of them enjoyed decades of a fulfilling life of shared interests while allowing each other freedom to pursue their own travels and hobbies. It was truly a relationship to admire.
We will miss you, Uncle R. We love you very much, and will always remember your kindness, your humor and your smile.
Wherever he went, he left a trail of smiles around him. He constantly poked fun at himself, but never joked at the expense of others. He always had a kind word to say to those around him. I literally cannot count the number of times he said my children were "lucky to have such a wonderful mother". How could you not love him? He was a handsome man, in a goofily endearing type of way. He had white grey hair, with a bulbous nose and a slight lisp, a heavily Chicagoan accent, and shuffled everywhere he went. He was extremely comfortable in his own skin, and it wasn't unusual to hear his feet shuffling into the kitchen at 10 pm for his midnight snack (since he went to bed at 6 pm), sneaking a sugary snack behind his sister's back (his personal food police), and then hearing a fart escape and him remarking, "Hmmm...must have stepped on a frog or something..." and then his feet shuffling back to the bedroom.
He was up for any adventure, and for his 70th birthday, he treated us to a vacation in Hawai'i, where we were able to enjoy a week of Uncle R's presence and geniality and good humor and leave relaxed and refreshed. Watching the close relationship between he and his sister, my mother-in-law, made me long for a brother, and reminded me of the importance to call my sister as soon as I got back home.
He was an avid collector of art, and since he was a humble man, I walked into his 3-story Riverside home, after knowing him for 6 years, to find that his walls were lined with original Picassos, Monets, Cassatts and numerous other works by Huge Names and local artists, just hanging on the wall in a home without any sort of special climate control or lighting. Around every corner was a new find, staying there was like living in the novel From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler for three days.
His life partner, T., not often spoken of in The Huz's family, due to their unspoken agreement to ignore Uncle R's predilection to The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name, was a kind and quiet man, and the two of them enjoyed decades of a fulfilling life of shared interests while allowing each other freedom to pursue their own travels and hobbies. It was truly a relationship to admire.
We will miss you, Uncle R. We love you very much, and will always remember your kindness, your humor and your smile.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Look What I Can Do!
For the uninitiated, these are generally called longies, made from wool yarn. They are used as an all-in-one diaper cover and pant for those who cloth diaper. Since we only sporadically use cloth for the Bear, I made his out of a wool/cotton blend, and they are offically named his Easter Egg Longies. I am particularly partial to the navy and red fire truck top with the pastel colors. Heh. I knew that if I tried to change his top to get a picture of the pants with a matching shirt, there would be no pictures at all.
They are entirely too huge, so he will be wearing them into next winter, which is great, there's plenty of room to grow. I still need to add a waist tie, to be able to cinch it around the waist. It's necessary because as he was walking around in them last night, I walked into the kitchen to see his bare bottom with the pants around his ankles. Cute bootie, but not so much for public consumption. In fact, this is how much too big they are:
So, now Sir H wants a pair. He wants this pair, but the crotch hits at mid-thigh, so I'm knitting him some jammie pants from some delicious Loft yarn that is so soft and stretchy that I'm going to be jealous of his pants. I'm so proud of myself. Tell you what - it's a great anxiety reliever for me. I also don't snack at night much anymore, because my hands are busy, and my brain is engaged just enough to not think about anything else, but not so much that I can't veg to an old episode of King of Queens. Go knitting!
Friday, March 7, 2008
These Three Words
So, I have this friend who has a blog inspired by a segment she saw on a talk show, about photographing yourself with three words that resonate with you. Fun, huh? Here's her blog:
These are my contributions so far:
Check it out, and send her your own masterpieces! Let your voice be read!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Thankful
I was sitting here, knitting and watching a DVRed show when it hit me how incredibly happy I am at this moment. What a blessed life I lead, how many things I have for which to be grateful.
I have a great friend with whom I have a standing lunch date after we pick our big boys up from preschool 2x per week, after which I live in an area that has gorgeous, amazing weather, and I have the ability and health to walk with my boys while Sir H. rides his big boy bike (no training wheels since he was 3!), and my precious boys love to play together, and play outside and exercise and walk. The mountain laurels are blooming, so I was taking giant breaths of sweet grape scent with every step. We stopped and played in my parents' backyard, because I have parents who love my children only second to how much we love them.
Then, I was able to make a healthy, homecooked meal because we are able to not just buy, but also have easy access to organic and whole foods, and have children who are easy to please when it comes to food. I have friends who trust me to sit with their kiddos as they slept while my friends went to the primary caucus tonight, and when I returned home, I have one sick baby that is finally sleeping, which is a huge blessing, and a husband who had picked up the house, wanted to talk for a few minutes to connect with me, and a big boy who asked me to come snuggle with him and read a book and tell a story. Then, all three of my men go to sleep, and I'm sitting here, having found a medication that gets rid of my nerve pain, feeling physically good for the first time in a long time, knitting, and torn between deciding if I want to sit on our comfortable couch, in our comfortable and lovely and peaceful home, and continue to knit to my heart's content while I watch something fluffy on TV, or if I want to get in the bath and read my new books from the library that I'm completely pumped about, and go to bed early and snuggle up with my pillows and my big boy who is in our bed tonight.
Does life get any better? Wow, I'm literally tearing up. God, thank you for my precious family.
I have a great friend with whom I have a standing lunch date after we pick our big boys up from preschool 2x per week, after which I live in an area that has gorgeous, amazing weather, and I have the ability and health to walk with my boys while Sir H. rides his big boy bike (no training wheels since he was 3!), and my precious boys love to play together, and play outside and exercise and walk. The mountain laurels are blooming, so I was taking giant breaths of sweet grape scent with every step. We stopped and played in my parents' backyard, because I have parents who love my children only second to how much we love them.
Then, I was able to make a healthy, homecooked meal because we are able to not just buy, but also have easy access to organic and whole foods, and have children who are easy to please when it comes to food. I have friends who trust me to sit with their kiddos as they slept while my friends went to the primary caucus tonight, and when I returned home, I have one sick baby that is finally sleeping, which is a huge blessing, and a husband who had picked up the house, wanted to talk for a few minutes to connect with me, and a big boy who asked me to come snuggle with him and read a book and tell a story. Then, all three of my men go to sleep, and I'm sitting here, having found a medication that gets rid of my nerve pain, feeling physically good for the first time in a long time, knitting, and torn between deciding if I want to sit on our comfortable couch, in our comfortable and lovely and peaceful home, and continue to knit to my heart's content while I watch something fluffy on TV, or if I want to get in the bath and read my new books from the library that I'm completely pumped about, and go to bed early and snuggle up with my pillows and my big boy who is in our bed tonight.
Does life get any better? Wow, I'm literally tearing up. God, thank you for my precious family.
One Pot, One Pan, 10 Minutes = Healthful Dinner
Okay, so I'm fudging a little bit, but let me break it down for you: I just spent about 7 minutes from start to finish making some fantastic healthy (yes, healthy) macaroni and cheese. Appeals to the shorties and the grown-ups alike!
Make ahead:
A few weeks later, do this:
Get out your big pot. Saute 1/2 a sweet onion in about 1/4 of olive oil. Sprinkle in about 1/8 c of flour and stir every few minutes until the flour is just beginning to brown and the onions are wilting. Add a dash of nutmeg or, if one is surprisingly out of nutmeg, you can pretend that the "allspice" bottle is actually labeled "nutmeg" and no one will be able to tell. Just a hypothetical. Pour in 4 1/2 cups of skim milk. I actually used 5 oz of evaporated milk to just get the damn thing out of my pantry. Bring to a slow simmer, stirring frequently. Scoop out ~2 cups of the butternut squash (oh yeah, that stuff I forgot about!) and mash it with a fork in a measuring cup. Should be nice and soft, so you're really just mushing it around. Add 4 cups of sharp cheddar cheese, shredded, and 1/2 - 1 cup of parmesan. Stir until cheese is melted in a stringy fashion, then dump in the squash. Stir for a few minutes, until everything looks evenly distributed.
Spray a casserole pan with cooking spray and pour the elbow macaroni (you know, the other stuff you forgot about) into it. Pour cheese mixture on top of macaroni, bake for 30 minutes at 350* and et, voila, cheesy, squashy, pasta-y goodness.
Make ahead:
- 2 boxes elbow macaroni (I used one box of 100% whole wheat and one box of Barilla Plus)
- 1 whole butternut squash
A few weeks later, do this:
Get out your big pot. Saute 1/2 a sweet onion in about 1/4 of olive oil. Sprinkle in about 1/8 c of flour and stir every few minutes until the flour is just beginning to brown and the onions are wilting. Add a dash of nutmeg or, if one is surprisingly out of nutmeg, you can pretend that the "allspice" bottle is actually labeled "nutmeg" and no one will be able to tell. Just a hypothetical. Pour in 4 1/2 cups of skim milk. I actually used 5 oz of evaporated milk to just get the damn thing out of my pantry. Bring to a slow simmer, stirring frequently. Scoop out ~2 cups of the butternut squash (oh yeah, that stuff I forgot about!) and mash it with a fork in a measuring cup. Should be nice and soft, so you're really just mushing it around. Add 4 cups of sharp cheddar cheese, shredded, and 1/2 - 1 cup of parmesan. Stir until cheese is melted in a stringy fashion, then dump in the squash. Stir for a few minutes, until everything looks evenly distributed.
Spray a casserole pan with cooking spray and pour the elbow macaroni (you know, the other stuff you forgot about) into it. Pour cheese mixture on top of macaroni, bake for 30 minutes at 350* and et, voila, cheesy, squashy, pasta-y goodness.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Srsly.
So, I was driving home tonight, listening to The River radio station, and I'm singing along to "Your Love is Amazing" sung by Phillips, Craig & Dean, and we're on the words, "Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, Your love makes me sing," when all of a sudden, as radio stations are wont to do at night, it fritzed out with a small burst of static and another station came through, so what I heard was...
"Your love makes me sing,"
"Aww! Me so horny!"
"Hallelujah!"
Wouldn't have believed it had it not happened to me.
"Your love makes me sing,"
"Aww! Me so horny!"
"Hallelujah!"
Wouldn't have believed it had it not happened to me.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
But I don't waaaaaaaaaanna blog
It's been too long, though, so here ya go.
We had the MRI last week, and it was hell on wheels for me, The Bear did just fine. No anomolies, so we're clear on any organic issues. The EEG is set for tomorrow, and he has to only sleep from midnight to 4 am, so the Huz and I are pulling shifts.
Apart from that, Sir H is four and I love it. I love four, I LOVE FOUR! I want to shout it from the rooftops that I LOVE FOUR! He is so helpful, and sweet, and fun, and conversational, and opinionated (in a good way) and so...personable. He's amazing. My love bug. I've also started knitting. It's wonderful for anxiety. I really struggle with bouts of depression and anxiety, and sometimes, when the anxiety gets too big, I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. In comes knitting...my hands are moving, my mind is working just hard enough to not dwell on stuff, but not so much that I can't do other things. It's a wonderfully soothing hobby for the evening while I watch a fluff television show, or lie in bed with Sir H. I make killer scarves. They're the easiest thing to make, in case you don't know. I'm currently trying my hand at a hat. I'll share pics when I get somewhere.
We had the MRI last week, and it was hell on wheels for me, The Bear did just fine. No anomolies, so we're clear on any organic issues. The EEG is set for tomorrow, and he has to only sleep from midnight to 4 am, so the Huz and I are pulling shifts.
Apart from that, Sir H is four and I love it. I love four, I LOVE FOUR! I want to shout it from the rooftops that I LOVE FOUR! He is so helpful, and sweet, and fun, and conversational, and opinionated (in a good way) and so...personable. He's amazing. My love bug. I've also started knitting. It's wonderful for anxiety. I really struggle with bouts of depression and anxiety, and sometimes, when the anxiety gets too big, I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. In comes knitting...my hands are moving, my mind is working just hard enough to not dwell on stuff, but not so much that I can't do other things. It's a wonderfully soothing hobby for the evening while I watch a fluff television show, or lie in bed with Sir H. I make killer scarves. They're the easiest thing to make, in case you don't know. I'm currently trying my hand at a hat. I'll share pics when I get somewhere.
Monday, February 4, 2008
EEG and MRI scheduled!
It's a case of hurry up, see the doctor! Now wait! MRI is on 2/12 and EEG on 2/20. I feel confident in the testing, they will be sedating him for the MRI, which means we have to withhold food from him, the biggest eater and hungriest person in the entire world, seriously. I mean, the kid can polish off an entire enchilada kids' plate at El Ranchito and still want more from my plate. Then, the EEG requires him to be both awake and asleep in order to monitor both brain wave patterns, so he gets to sleep from midnight to 4 am the night before. Eek! Hopefully, The Huz will take the day off so we can take turns napping. After the EEG, we wait for three weeks and then go back to see the neurologist. I'm very confident in him, we had a quick but very informative visit, and The Bear is just growing by amazing leaps and bounds.
He follows Sir H everywhere and thinks he's just big. He loves to play, especially loves to throw balls and has terrific aim. He's picked up a bunch of new words and communication skills in the last few weeks, and it's amazing to watch him explode like this.
I'm also so excited that the neurologist may be able to help me with my migraines. He has some options for me when The Bear weans, so I feel better knowing there may be something we can do, even if it's in the future. Thank you all so much for your prayers, your thoughts, emails and phone calls. We truly wouldn't be able to make it through this without y'all.
He follows Sir H everywhere and thinks he's just big. He loves to play, especially loves to throw balls and has terrific aim. He's picked up a bunch of new words and communication skills in the last few weeks, and it's amazing to watch him explode like this.
I'm also so excited that the neurologist may be able to help me with my migraines. He has some options for me when The Bear weans, so I feel better knowing there may be something we can do, even if it's in the future. Thank you all so much for your prayers, your thoughts, emails and phone calls. We truly wouldn't be able to make it through this without y'all.
Monday, January 14, 2008
January 31st
The pediatric neurologist's office opened at 8:30 (so said his answering service when I called on Sunday night at 11 pm), so I spent an hour stalking the clock. I swear, that was the slowest hour of my life. I called at 8:28 am, and wouldn't you know it...still the answering service. I waited another 4 minutes, then called back. I spoke with a phone answerer, to whom I gave a brief synopsis. She informed me that "Dr. R. won't order an EEG until after he has a consult with you and the first opening we have is.............................March."
Yeah. That went well. I let her know, kindly, that we weren't going to wait until March, and I would be in there today. We compromised on January 31st. While I want with all my heart to rush in and figure out what's happening, I spoke with two other doctors for second opinions, and they both opined that there was no reason to rush into the test, that two weeks won't hurt anything. As always, in the meantime, we are supposed to head immediately to the Baptist hospital if he has another seizure.
I went to the gym today, hoping to get in my normal yoga hour, and for numerous reasons, I didn't get there until 2 hours after the class was over. I got on the treadmill and was going to walk/jog a mile or so and then do some deep stretching. I ran 4.5 miles. I guess I needed to pound the ground and let some tension out, huh? I can hardly move. Please pray that The Bear doesn't have a seizure tonight, or I may have to stay at home, paralyzed from the neck down.
Yeah. That went well. I let her know, kindly, that we weren't going to wait until March, and I would be in there today. We compromised on January 31st. While I want with all my heart to rush in and figure out what's happening, I spoke with two other doctors for second opinions, and they both opined that there was no reason to rush into the test, that two weeks won't hurt anything. As always, in the meantime, we are supposed to head immediately to the Baptist hospital if he has another seizure.
I went to the gym today, hoping to get in my normal yoga hour, and for numerous reasons, I didn't get there until 2 hours after the class was over. I got on the treadmill and was going to walk/jog a mile or so and then do some deep stretching. I ran 4.5 miles. I guess I needed to pound the ground and let some tension out, huh? I can hardly move. Please pray that The Bear doesn't have a seizure tonight, or I may have to stay at home, paralyzed from the neck down.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Okay, don't freak out. He's OKAY, I promise.
The Bear had two seizures yesterday. They were what are known as focal seizures, which means they affect a portion of the brain, rather than the whole brain as in a generalized seizure. This is how the day went down:
I heard him cry Thursday morning right around his usual time, but I immediately noticed that it was a really sad, quiet cry. He usually calls for me, babbling loudly, but this was a cry, like he was hurt or sad. I went in there, and he was sitting down at the end of his crib, all slumped over. I reached in, and he didn't move. I started gently patting his leg, thinking that maybe he had been woken up by a noise and was still drowsy and not quite with it yet...and he still didn't move. For five minutes - literally - I sat there and rubbed his back while he sat, slumped over, his head falling down toward the mattress and his eyes blinking slowly, like he was about to fall back asleep. Then, he would look up at me with a totally blank look on his face and his eyes wide open, just staring at me. No recognition. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring right through mine. It's like he was just turned off inside. It was scary. Then he would slowly lower his head again and do the slumping/slowly falling thing, then look at me with that look, then go back to slumping. Finally, he kind of raised his arms up and I lifted him out of the crib. He snuggled up on my shoulder, didn't put his thumb in his mouth (which is also really weird, as it's in there 24/7 unless he's eating), and just lay there, totally limp and heavy for another 5-10 minutes. He *always*, and I mean always, wakes up ready to go and play, and eat a billion pounds of food. He didn't want to eat, nothing, not a thing. I finally offered him some teething biscuits, and he uttered his first sound, like a "uh" with his mouth closed that he does sometimes, and he took them. After a minute on my lap, he started to "wake up" and finally, it's like he just clicked on, and took off to play with Sir H and acted totally normally from there.
Then, morning nap time rolled around, and when he gets tired, he won't slow down, I just have to keep my eye on the clock or watch him closely for an eye rub or a yawn, and it's time. Our routine is to take him to his room, swaddle him on Henry's bed, and put him in the crib with some water and put his blanket on him, turn on his aquarium, kiss his forehead and leave. He hasn't been able to go to cosleep since he was about 6 months old. This time, he just kind of wound down. I looked over and he was standing there, with his shoulders slumped, and his face had that blank stare again. His eyes were huge, and no expression on his face. His eyes watched me as I walked over, picked him up, and he slumped on my shoulder with that same limp, loose feeling he had in the morning. No thumb. I went to my bed and I lay down with him on my shoulder, and he stuck his thumb in his mouth and just lay there totally still and quiet, and in about 10 minutes, he was asleep. He slept for about an hour, and woke up alert and fine, and I put him in his crib and he went back to sleep for another hour. Awoke fine.
Since then, he's been rocking and rolling along like he always does. I talked to the developmental pediatrician today, and she diagnosed him as best she could, without having seen it, but said she was as certain as she could be that it was two separate seizures. We are supposed to call a pediatric neurologist on Monday, and she said he would most likely want to do an EEG. I have no earthly idea how they're going to get this kiddo still enough to stick sensors on his head and monitor his brainwaves!
I'm having a hard time not simply sitting there staring at him and watching him to make sure he's okay. She doesn't expect another seizure this weekend, since he had two so close together, but she instructed us to head to the hospital where he was born if he did have another one, or if he shows any change in his color, straight to the ER here or call 911. There's absolutely no way of knowing if this is an isolated occurence, or if it could happen again. Some kids have one seizure, then never have another. Some kids have them regularly until they grow out of them on their own at around five years old. Some kids continue to have them through adulthood and are then diagnosed with epilepsy.
I keep thinking of all of the autism-favorable traits he has, and now we have another one to put up on the board. I know I can't continue to think of that, I want to enjoy him and not worry, but that's what this blog is for, no? To spill my thoughts and share my joys and fears? So...there it is.
I heard him cry Thursday morning right around his usual time, but I immediately noticed that it was a really sad, quiet cry. He usually calls for me, babbling loudly, but this was a cry, like he was hurt or sad. I went in there, and he was sitting down at the end of his crib, all slumped over. I reached in, and he didn't move. I started gently patting his leg, thinking that maybe he had been woken up by a noise and was still drowsy and not quite with it yet...and he still didn't move. For five minutes - literally - I sat there and rubbed his back while he sat, slumped over, his head falling down toward the mattress and his eyes blinking slowly, like he was about to fall back asleep. Then, he would look up at me with a totally blank look on his face and his eyes wide open, just staring at me. No recognition. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring right through mine. It's like he was just turned off inside. It was scary. Then he would slowly lower his head again and do the slumping/slowly falling thing, then look at me with that look, then go back to slumping. Finally, he kind of raised his arms up and I lifted him out of the crib. He snuggled up on my shoulder, didn't put his thumb in his mouth (which is also really weird, as it's in there 24/7 unless he's eating), and just lay there, totally limp and heavy for another 5-10 minutes. He *always*, and I mean always, wakes up ready to go and play, and eat a billion pounds of food. He didn't want to eat, nothing, not a thing. I finally offered him some teething biscuits, and he uttered his first sound, like a "uh" with his mouth closed that he does sometimes, and he took them. After a minute on my lap, he started to "wake up" and finally, it's like he just clicked on, and took off to play with Sir H and acted totally normally from there.
Then, morning nap time rolled around, and when he gets tired, he won't slow down, I just have to keep my eye on the clock or watch him closely for an eye rub or a yawn, and it's time. Our routine is to take him to his room, swaddle him on Henry's bed, and put him in the crib with some water and put his blanket on him, turn on his aquarium, kiss his forehead and leave. He hasn't been able to go to cosleep since he was about 6 months old. This time, he just kind of wound down. I looked over and he was standing there, with his shoulders slumped, and his face had that blank stare again. His eyes were huge, and no expression on his face. His eyes watched me as I walked over, picked him up, and he slumped on my shoulder with that same limp, loose feeling he had in the morning. No thumb. I went to my bed and I lay down with him on my shoulder, and he stuck his thumb in his mouth and just lay there totally still and quiet, and in about 10 minutes, he was asleep. He slept for about an hour, and woke up alert and fine, and I put him in his crib and he went back to sleep for another hour. Awoke fine.
Since then, he's been rocking and rolling along like he always does. I talked to the developmental pediatrician today, and she diagnosed him as best she could, without having seen it, but said she was as certain as she could be that it was two separate seizures. We are supposed to call a pediatric neurologist on Monday, and she said he would most likely want to do an EEG. I have no earthly idea how they're going to get this kiddo still enough to stick sensors on his head and monitor his brainwaves!
I'm having a hard time not simply sitting there staring at him and watching him to make sure he's okay. She doesn't expect another seizure this weekend, since he had two so close together, but she instructed us to head to the hospital where he was born if he did have another one, or if he shows any change in his color, straight to the ER here or call 911. There's absolutely no way of knowing if this is an isolated occurence, or if it could happen again. Some kids have one seizure, then never have another. Some kids have them regularly until they grow out of them on their own at around five years old. Some kids continue to have them through adulthood and are then diagnosed with epilepsy.
I keep thinking of all of the autism-favorable traits he has, and now we have another one to put up on the board. I know I can't continue to think of that, I want to enjoy him and not worry, but that's what this blog is for, no? To spill my thoughts and share my joys and fears? So...there it is.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Going Out on a Limb
Well, I've decided - I'm going to start selling Henry & Co. products again. Eeek! Hold me! I'm a-skeered. The good thing is that I've found two sites that allow me to list the items I have on hand, instead of having my original http://www.purehenry.com/ site that listed all of my products and I never knew what orders would come in. This way, I can simply "stock" the site with what I already have made and ready to go out the door, and all I will have to do is package and ship. So much easier.
The two sites between which I'm trying to decide are http://www.etsy.com/ and http://www.hyenacart.com/ - both of them are quality, well-run sites, but they are slightly different in terms of pricing, customer base and looks. If you have any feedback or thoughts, lay it on me!
The two sites between which I'm trying to decide are http://www.etsy.com/ and http://www.hyenacart.com/ - both of them are quality, well-run sites, but they are slightly different in terms of pricing, customer base and looks. If you have any feedback or thoughts, lay it on me!
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Guess What I Got For Christmas?
A remodeling project! We've been living in a 3 bedroom, 1 bath 1942 ranch-style home for a little over 2 years now, and we love the place. It was almost completely redone when we moved in. The bathroom and kitchen were still in their original shape, and over the last 2 years, we have remodeled the kitchen, added on another room and enclosed part of the garage to make another 1/2 bath. I've been complaining about sharing my bathtub with two little grimy, squirmy mud-covered small people enough that The Huz finally gifted me with a brand-new tub, enlarged bathroom with two pedestal sinks and a new toilet. Sounds awesome, right? And bless his heart, the man tries. He really does. "Honey, we will start construction on Friday, and be done by Sunday night." Even I knew that was a lie, and I braced myself for a few weeks of disarray despite his insistance.
It's now Tuesday, we hosted a 4th birthday party for Sir H yesterday, and the bathroom is half-way completed. We finally have water again, but little did I know that in drawing up the floorplan for my new bathroom, in all its glory, he used the space that was my former hall closet, where I kept every cleaning tool, all my towels and other assorted odds and ends like gifts, wrapping paper, board games, puzzles, etc., and he also decided that it would be an awesome idea to use the closet space from our bedroom to make the bathroom bigger. Both closets. As in, our clothes have nowhere to hang. When asked for his idea about where our clothes will now hand, his creative solution was to buy an armoire and use it as a wardrobe. Great! Where the frick are we going to put it? And also, where the frick is it?
So, currently, my clothes are hanging in the laundry room, we've been living out of a suitcase sleeping at my parents' home, and my head is spinning around like Linda Whatserface from The Exorcist. So, just a piece of friendly advice. If you want me to remain a calm, civil human being, please don't ask me how my bathroom is looking, and aren't I so lucky to have such a handy husband who loves to work. Mmkay? Because I haven't slept in 3 days, seeing as a 4 year old and a 1 year old don't so much like to sleep in unfamiliar places, I haven't seen my husband since Wednesday, and I have no running water in my house. You'll get this response:
It's now Tuesday, we hosted a 4th birthday party for Sir H yesterday, and the bathroom is half-way completed. We finally have water again, but little did I know that in drawing up the floorplan for my new bathroom, in all its glory, he used the space that was my former hall closet, where I kept every cleaning tool, all my towels and other assorted odds and ends like gifts, wrapping paper, board games, puzzles, etc., and he also decided that it would be an awesome idea to use the closet space from our bedroom to make the bathroom bigger. Both closets. As in, our clothes have nowhere to hang. When asked for his idea about where our clothes will now hand, his creative solution was to buy an armoire and use it as a wardrobe. Great! Where the frick are we going to put it? And also, where the frick is it?
So, currently, my clothes are hanging in the laundry room, we've been living out of a suitcase sleeping at my parents' home, and my head is spinning around like Linda Whatserface from The Exorcist. So, just a piece of friendly advice. If you want me to remain a calm, civil human being, please don't ask me how my bathroom is looking, and aren't I so lucky to have such a handy husband who loves to work. Mmkay? Because I haven't slept in 3 days, seeing as a 4 year old and a 1 year old don't so much like to sleep in unfamiliar places, I haven't seen my husband since Wednesday, and I have no running water in my house. You'll get this response:
I'll let you know when it's safe to ask.
And I will share the beautiful day that was Sir H's fourth birthday when I can talk without using profanity every other word. It was gorgeous, and my boy is wonderful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
