New Year's Resolutions

Well, there are 3 days left in 2007. That means New Year's Resolutions.

My New Year's Resolution for 2008 is not to make any New Year's Resolutions!

• I know I'm not going to lose weight until I've stopped nursing the baby, because I'm not cutting calories until that's done and overwith.
• As for exercise, for the moment I'm only going to be able to fit that in on a regular basis if I chose to stay up at 3:30 after the baby wakes up in the middle of the night. I prefer sleep.
• I'll try to get and keep the house neater, but let's face it, the house is not going to stay uncluttered until the kids are grown.

So, I'm going to enjoy the last 3 days of 2007, knowing full well that I won't be feeling any guilt over breaking my 2008 resolutions a couple of weeks into the New Year.

Happy New Year!

Happy Christmas Eve!

Isn't there some law out there that moms aren't allowed to be sick over the Christmas holiday? Apparently, I'm the exception. This evening around 4:00 p.m. I got hit with nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. I'm so happy that I only had a few gifts to wrap since Santa leaves his gifts unwrapped under the tree. :)

Hopefully this is only a 24 hour bug and I'll be better by tomorrow evening.

Merry Christmas!

12 Days of Christmas Tax Dollars

My BIL sent me this e-mail link: http://www.cdc.gov/women/owh/holiday/12waysSong.htm

I decided to go to the CDC website to make certain that this is a valid CDC link. Guess what! It is! I am so happy to know that all those hard-earned tax dollars are going to employees of the CDC so they can spend their time creating lyrics to the tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas. Before I heard this song I had no idea that in order to stay healthy I should wash my hands, bundle up for warmth, manage stress, not drink and drive, stay smoke free, fasten seat belts while driving, get exams and screenings, get my vaccinations, monitor the children, practice fire safety, prepare dinner safely, and eat well and get moving.

Up until I heard the lyrics to this song, I had been

1. running around with grimy hands all day
2. not wearing a coat in cold weather
3. letting stress run my life (okay, maybe this one is true, but you try dealing with two sick kids, a kid with Asperger's Disorder, and no sleep and try to manage stress!)
4. knocking back a bottle of wine and getting behind the wheel
5. smoking 4 packs a day
6. driving at break-neck speeds without a seat belt
7. not going to my doctors for annual exams
8. stabbing myself with rusty nails secure in the knowledge that I haven't recently gotten a tetanus shot, nothing like lockjaw
9. not watching what the children are doing (Go ahead, Honey, play with those matches, I won't watch what your doing!)
10. burning fires in the middle of the living room without benefit of using the fireplace (See number 9)
11. cross contaminating the food as I prepare it by putting vegetables and meat on the same cutting board, and
12. sitting in front of the t.v. eating potato chips for dinner!

Thank you federal government for spending our tax dollars in such a wise and constructive way! Without you there to tell us the patently obvious, what ever would we do?!

Our Tree

This year G. was bound and determined that we were going to get our Christmas tree early. Absolutely no waiting until the weekend before Christmas, which is what normally happens in our household. Last Saturday we went to the tree farm to pick our tree. This is a "new" tree farm to us. We've only gone there for three years. The trees at this place are great, but the people are not. The woman who takes your money gives me the feeling of a grinch dressed up in a people costume. She definitely exudes I'd rather be any place but here doing anything else but this, but they have great concolor firs. The farm we used to go to had great people, but their concolor firs have become very sparse.

For me the only tree to get is a concolor fir. They have soft needles and firm branches. You can shove lights all the way to the trunk of the tree without needing a first aid kit afterward, and the branches are hardy enough that you can hang extra heavy ornaments on them.

So we bought the tree on Saturday, put it up on Sunday, and I got the lights on it by Tuesday. Currently the only ornaments hanging on the tree are ones S. D. made in her pre-k class. I won't start decorating the tree until S. F. can participate, and she can't participate until all her homework is done. This week she didn't get homework finished until right before bedtime each night, and since she didn't even start working on homework until 8:55 p.m. last night, we still won't have the tree decorated until the weekend before Christmas.

Scary Math

Okay, I'm officially scared. S. F. asked for help with her math last night, and I couldn't look at it because of Mr. Ear Infection. He is definitely going back to the pediatrician first thing tomorrow morning!

So, this morning before S. F. got up, I picked up her worksheet and mathbook in order to figure out what it is that they're doing. I figure since she's almost a teenager, she's going to start thinking we're complete morons soon enough, so why give her any proof? ;) Here is the scary part...the math was EASY. Not only that, I actually had fun solving the problems. I think I need to get out more.

Santa Claus

S. D.: How does Santa get in your house?

Mom: Magic.

S. D.: What kind of magic?

Mom: Special Santa magic.

S. D.: But where does he come into the house?

Mom: Through the chimney.

S. D.: But we have a big thing in the fireplace. (She means our woodstove insert.)

Mom: Yes, that's why he uses magic.

S. D.: But he's really fat. How does he get through door?

Mom: Magic.

S. D.: No, the reindeer have to push.

Torture

If sleep deprivation is considered to be a form of torture, does that mean we can sue our children when they grow up? Just a thought. Can you tell that I haven't gotten much sleep lately?

Please, TEACH YOUR KIDS and GRANDKIDS about SAFETY!

S. F. was staying late at school yesterday to work with her friend on their history project. I figured this would be the perfect time to take S. D. and Little G. grocery shopping since I had an extra hour and half before I had to be back up at the school. Okay, there's really no perfect time to take a 4 year old and an infant shopping, but this was as good as it gets.

I admit that I am a paranoid shopper when it comes to my kids. If my 12 year old isn't with me, then the 4 year old is in the basket of the cart. The only time my 4 year old gets one of those mini "customer in training" carts is on those rare occasions when it's just the two of us, and everything I need can go in that cart. I absolutely will not let her have one if I have a cart of my own and my 12 year old isn't there. I can't keep a close enough eye on her otherwise. If it's just the baby and me, my hand never leaves contact with the shopping cart. It's too easy for someone to walk off with the cart while your back is turned. I've taught my kids that if someone grabs them to scream at the top of their lungs, "YOU'RE NOT MY MOM/DAD! HELP! THIS ISN'T MY MOM/DAD!" That way other shoppers won't think it's just some brat having a temper tantrum.

So yesterday while I was shopping with S. D. and Little G. I saw a cute little girl in pigtails about 5 years old walking around the store with a "customer in training" cart. The first time I saw her there was an adult woman with a cart about 5 feet away, so I figured that was her mother and didn't think twice about it. The next time I saw her there wasn't an adult anywhere in sight. I stopped and asked her if she was lost. She looked up at me somewhat bewildered. I said, "Have you lost your mommy or daddy?" She said, "Yes."

At this point I expected some frantic woman to round the corner any moment, but no one did. I looked quickly around the next two aisles and didn't see anyone in sight, so I said, let's get you up to the front desk so we can find your mommy. She looked up at me and said, "Okay, but I want to see the horsies." Of course, because it's the Christmas season, the grocery store, the place that's supposed to be selling food, has to have giant, overstuffed horsies to sell to the little children. Who knew that the grocery store decided it had to be ToysRUs. I said, "Well, the important thing is that we find your mommy first." Of course, I was beginning to get a little paranoid. What if mommy came round the corner and thought I was trying to abduct her child. So I looked at the little girl and said come with me, we're going to find your mommy. She happily followed along with her little cart. I was now desperately looking for a Harris Teeter employee so I could let them know I had a lost child. On my way up to the customer service desk, I found an employee and told her about the little girl.

Finally the kid's caution began to kick in, and she didn't want to go with the store employee without me; so we all went up to the front desk to page the girl's parents. This is where it gets worse. This little kid only knew her first name. She had no idea what her last name was, nor did she know her parents' names. The clerk paged Maya's lost parents, and we waited. This whole time there had been no sign of anyone desperately looking for a lost little girl. The clerk paged for her parents a second and a third time. Finally grandma shows up at the front desk.

There was no sense of urgency or worry about the woman. All she said was, "This is the last time I let you have one of those little shopping carts. You can do that with your mother. Come on, we're going to be late meeting Daddy at his appointment." The clerk looked at her and said, "Is this your grandma?" The little girl nodded, and then said, "I want to go see the horsies." Now grandma asks the clerk, "What time is it?" and when the clerk told her the woman started complaining about about how she'd already wasted 40 minutes, and she was going to be late. She then tells the kid to come on, turns her back on her, and takes her groceries to the checkout, without even making certain the little girl was following her. The kid didn't make a move to follow her, and instead looks up at me and repeats that she wants to see the horses. I looked at her and said she had to go with her grandma and walked her over to the checkout line myself.

What I wanted to do was to scream at this woman for being so seemingly unconcerned about the whereabouts of her granddaughter. I wanted to yell, "What the hell is the matter with you?! Not only do you not seem to care that your 5 year old granddaughter was missing for at least 10 minutes, you're not even keeping an eye on her now! Why haven't you and her parents taught her about stranger danger?! Why doesn't she know her last name or her parents' first names? Why aren't you freaked out by any of this?!" Of course I didn't, because I had my children with me, and I didn't want to upset the little girl, but I am upset with myself for not saying more than, "Here's your granddaughter, I'm glad I found her."

I'm certain that if I had told this child to come out to the car with me to find her mommy, she would have done so. I spent the rest of my grocery trip playing "show me the store employee" with S. D.

I'm still shaken up about this and it's the next day. Please, please teach your kids about being safe.

Turkeys

Mom: Okay you two, get your jackets on while I put the baby in the car seat. We're picking up pizza, because your dad's working late, and I haven't been able to cook since the baby's been sick all day. S. F., help S. D. get her coat on. S. D. cooperate with your big sister.

S. F.: You're a turkey. (Continuation of turkey argument from earlier in the afternoon)

S. D.: You're a turkey.

S. F.: No, you are.

S. D.: No, you're the turkey!

Mom: That's it! I don't want to hear anyone call anybody a turkey another time! No more! Get out to the car. S. F., help your little sister get into her car seat. S. D. cooperate with your big sister, because I asked her to help you.

Mom: Okay, is everybody buckled? Yes? Good, let's go.

S. D.: (ever so sweetly) Mommy, I sorry I argued with my big sister and called her a turkey.

Mom: (pleasantly surprised) Why thank you, sweetheart. It's very nice of you to apologize for acting that way.

S. D.: (whispering) S. F., you're still a turkey.

Mom & S. F.: (unsuccessfully trying not to crack up) S. D., that's not nice!

S. D.: (giggles)

I think we're in major trouble.

28 More Shopping Days Until Christmas and 2/3 of the Kids Are Sick

I'm definitely doing most of my Christmas shopping via the Internet this year. S. D. and Little G. are both on antibiotics for ear infections, and now they are both coming down with colds on top of the ear thing. Another reason for not going out in public to shop is that the baby has now developed a new and interesting skill; he's able to throw up his sinus drainage all down my back without getting a speck on him. I'm on my fourth shirt today. Since I can't constantly change clothes while I'm out, I'm just staying home and ordering in so to speak. I am choosing to look on the bright side of this new skill; since he gets it all over me and not him, I don't have to dry his tender, young skin out with multiple baths per day. ;-)

As I've been watching the t.v. coverage of all the Christmas shoppers out there trying to get the best deal, I've become thoroughly disgusted. Don't get me wrong, I'm not becoming the Grinch; I think it's quite the opposite. I think as we rush around trying to buy something for everyone, we lose sight of what it is we're celebrating. I'm looking forward to spending time with my extended family on both sides, searching for the perfect tree, decorating the house with the husband and kids, playing my Trans Siberian Orchestra cd's until the kids beg me to play something else (Mommy loves Christmas music that ROCKS), and staying up late on Christmas Eve trying to get everything done at the last minute. However, I'm not looking forward to nasty, rude people pushing and shoving trying to get the last electronic gizmo that's all the rage this year.

I think we'll simplify the gift giving in the immediate family this year, trying to put careful thought into the presents for Dad and the kids. If I were a talented, creative, craft oriented person, I'd make extra special gifts from the heart for the rest of my family and friends. Since I'm none of those things, I hope that as you open your gift card or Harry and David gift basket, that you realize the good intention was there. ;-)

Merry Christmas!

The Christmas Quest: Part 2

I have found a great toy website. The site is http://nmctoys.com/about.html. Absolutely none of the toys on this site are made in China.

The site was created by parents of two small children who decided to make certain that there were good, safe, quality toys that would last available for parents to buy for their children. They even want you to let them know if the toy doesn't last! They're not manufacturers; they simply find good, safe toys that are made in America or Europe. I've posted their link on the side of my blog.

Happy shopping!

From Anger to Grateful in Under 60 seconds

To say I was in a bad mood yesterday morning would be an understatement. It all started the night before and carried right over to the next morning.

Monday evening the girls had been sniping at each ever since they got home from school, the baby wouldn't stop fussing as I was trying to cook dinner, I had been trying to fold a pile of laundry on the sofa off and on all day, but every time I started folding something would interrupt me, like the baby crying, the phone ringing, the baby poohing, the cat throwing up, the baby crying, the cat getting into the trash, the baby poohing, the cat throwing up, the phone ringing, etc. In the middle of all the evening chaos, I walked into the living room only to discover that the 4 year old had knocked over the part of the laundry that I had managed to get neatly folded. I lost it. I had one of those, "If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times!" tirades with both of them. I did get an apology from both of the girls, but I was still totally annoyed. I went to bed tired and grumpy, and I woke up tired and grumpy yesterday morning with a full day ahead.

Each year the kids' school has Grandparents' Day, which is a really big deal with performances from each grade, the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I woke up, fed, bathed, and dressed the baby, got the 4 year old ready for school in an absolutely gorgeous heirloom dress that her grandmother made for her, woke up the 12 year old, got breakfast for the 4 year old (okay, it was just a pop tart, but I had to hover over her making certain she didn't get blueberry filling all over her pretty dress), and feed the cat all before having a cup of coffee. Usually G. helps out with getting the kids ready on mornings like this, but he had to log in to work instead because of an issue that came up. After he got off the computer and showered, he took the kids to school so I could get ready.

I placed the baby in the infant swing, got in the shower, and as soon as I lathered up, the baby began to scream and scream and scream. So I rinsed as quickly as I could, but apparently not quickly enough, because I ran out of hot water just as I was getting the shampoo out of my hair, dried off, and picked the baby up to comfort him. For some inexplicable reason, he was inconsolable. I checked his diaper; it was still dry. I tried to nurse him; he wasn't interested. I tried feeding him some cereal - no deal. It didn't matter what I did, he just kept crying. I toted him around with me as I tried to get dressed. I went into the bedroom to get into my skirt and top only to discover that the elderly cat who has problems getting everything off her butt had lain on them and messed them up. I hurriedly found a dress that would fit, put the baby down on the bed (still screaming his head off), squeezed into my pantyhose, put the dress on, packed the bottle bag that my 12 year old forgot to pack when I asked her, and frantically searched for dress shoes that would go with my dress but wouldn't kill my feet. Since staying home I've learned the joys of wearing nothing but comfortable shoes 363 days out of the year.

While trying to do all of this, my husband kept calling every 10 minutes to let me know where the cop was shooting radar, where he was sitting in the gym, to ask when I'd get there, etc. Finally my phone rang and luckily I didn't get to it in time, because I probably would've answered without looking at the caller i.d. shouting, "What the he#% do you want now!?! I'm trying to get out the door!" It was my MIL calling to say she wasn't feeling up to coming to Grandparents' Day. Boy was I glad I had to call her back instead of answering the way I almost did! I called G. to let him know his parents weren't coming, found the video camera, took it out to the car, stuffed the screaming baby in his car seat, and left the house. The baby fell asleep just before we got to the school. I carried his car seat into the gym, plopped him down in front of my husband, said, "Here's your demon spawn. Where did they set up the coffee pot?" The theater teacher was within earshot and commented about how he was glad he doesn't have kids when he hears statements like that. I told him it's still worth it and recounted the last cookie story about my 4 year old, but only half-heartedly, and off I went to get my caffeine fix as well as a sugar laden pastry.

By this time I was concerned about my MIL, frustrated with the baby, ticked off at my 12 year old for not doing the one thing I asked her to do to help out that morning, annoyed with G. for constantly interrupting me while I was trying to get out the door, hungry, and feeling not at all in a thankful frame of mind. Admittedly, I felt a little bit better after a hit of caffeine and putting sugary food on my stomach, but only a little. I made small talk with a couple of parents, and a teacher who has an ailing parent in another country. Then I ran into a mom whose child has cystic fibrosis. I asked her how her daughter is doing and found out about the pneumonia that had recently caused her to be hospitalized, the sinus surgery she recently had to have, and some of the other health problems she's battling as a kid with CF.

I made my way back to the gym. By now the Little G. was wide awake and behaving like a perfect little cherub. A few minutes later the pre-k class marched in wearing adorable turkey headdresses for their musical performance. S. D. looked beautiful and was obviously happy to be there. Suddenly I was no longer irritated with my family; I was thankful to have them and knew I'd rather be there than anywhere else in the world (even the Bahamas with a pina colada in hand).

It turned out to be a wonderful, patriotic program. The school even chose not to hit us up for donations during the program, and that's something to really be grateful for!

Yea! The Baby Has an Ear Infection!

I know it sounds odd that I would sound happy that the baby has an ear infection, but let me put it in perspective for you. I'm not at all happy that he's not feeling well, but when you have one child with an ASD (autism spectrum disorder), you watch your others like a hawk for any early signs that they, too, might have an ASD.

So when the baby started to refuse any care from anyone but me like his oldest sister did, started crying at the sight of anyone else but me like his sister with the ASD did as an infant, started to show signs of regression by absolutely refusing to eat "solid" baby food and screamed at the sight of the spoon, you can see where I would start to get a bit worried. He also stopped rolling over on the floor, but instead just laid there looking around, and after a few minutes he would fuss and cry for me. I was actually relieved when he started to run a fever and would pull off screaming from nursing. I thought, "Aha! Teething or ears!" I was relieved when yesterday the doctor confirmed that he has an ear infection.

The one thing that does concern me greatly, however, is that like his oldest sister, he became very cranky days before he had any other symptoms. Prior to this ear infection, he had no cold symptoms or anything else. S. F. always becomes a beast days before she shows any symptom of an illness. If G. and I look at each other after a few days of absolute, total frustration with her, and start saying things to each other like, "Has she been driving you as crazy as she has been me?" or "Have you been fantasizing about sending S. F. off to boarding school?" or "Gee, I can't wait until she's in college," we then know that she's going to be sick soon. Our NT (neurotypical) child, S. D. just gets sick. She might get cranky the day before she gets sick, but not 3 - 5 days beforehand.

So, I'm still watching him like a hawk, and toying with the idea of scheduling him for an evaluation with our developmental pediatrician at 15 or 16 months. But for now, I'm happy that he's letting me put him down again, playing with toys, rolling over, smiling at Daddy, and letting Daddy hold him occasionally, without screaming, now that the antibiotics are starting to work.

Bated Breath

S. F., my 12 year old, is writing a metaphor paper, and she's not allowed to use any cliches. They've been focusing on cliches so much that I'm having a hard time not noticing them in my own day to day life.

I was starting to write a post about keeping an eye on my 7 1/2 month old to catch any signs of autism. Of course in the first paragraph, I wrote about waiting with bated breath hoping that he doesn't have autism. Then it hit me, what the heck is bated breath!? I know it means waiting when something is going to take a long time and is difficult, but why bated breath? Why is it still part of our lexicon?

So naturally I stopped writing my post and went on an Internet search instead. I learned that the earliest written occurrence of the phrase comes from Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice in 1596: "With bated breath, and whispring humblenesse." Bated is actually the shortened version of the word abated, which makes a lot more sense, since it means to bring down, lower or depress.

I'll admit I was a little disappointed; I was hoping for something a bit more fun or interesting in the origin. Just as I was about to stop looking into it and get back to my post, I came across a cute poem by Geoffrey Taylor that makes a play of words on the phrase. Here it is:

Cruel, Clever Cat

Sally, having swallowed cheese
Directs down holes the scented breeze
Enticing thus with baited breath
Nice mice to an untimely death.

I hope my time wasting Internet search brings you a smile or chuckle as it did me.

Toothbrushes

I love my Oral B electric Braun toothbrush, but it has a major flaw. The back of the brush is rounded, not flat.

"So, the back's not flat, what's the big deal?" you ask.

Well, the big deal is that it's virtually impossible to get toothpaste on the brush one-handed. I realize that most people aren't trying to brush their teeth with one hand, but I am brushing my teeth one-handed on an almost daily basis.

I find myself holding the fussy, teething, acid-reflux complaining baby with one arm, while trying to place the brush between the Dixie cup dispenser and a lotion bottle with the other, in the hopes that it will stay steady as I try to gently plop a pea sized amount of toothpaste onto the brush, while praying that the dang thing doesn't roll over and put toothpaste all over the bathroom counter. Let's just say that some days I worry about the vocabulary I'm teaching my 7 1/2 month old baby.

Might I suggest to all of you companies who make products that mothers of young children use, that you actually have your testers use your products with a baby tucked under one arm in order to improve ease of use! :)

The Christmas Quest

Only 44 more shopping days until Christmas!

With all the toy recalls from China because of excess levels of lead and other wonderful poisons, I'm doing my best to find good, quality toys made right here in the good, ole U.S.A.

I've been able to find stuff for my 12 and 4 year olds on the web that are appropriate, but the baby is another story. Other than wooden blocks, a couple of styles of wooden rattles, and a wooden stacking toy, I just can't find baby toys appropriate for an 8 month old (that's how old he'll be come Christmas) that aren't made in China.

Even websites that say their toys are made in the U.S. or Europe have some toys made in China. They put disclaimers up like, "Made in China under the close supervision of put company name here." Like that's supposed to make me feel all warm, fuzzy, and safe about the toy.

As I find websites or stores that are featuring safe, American, lead-free toys, I'll post their links on my blog.

Wish me luck on my Christmas Quest!

Patience

My dad was a minister. He once told me that every time he prayed for patience, something bad would happen. He eventually reached the conclusion that God would send him tribulation in order to teach him patience.

Now, whenever we have a trying time, my husband jokes that I was secretly praying for patience. Needless to say, this is one of those times.

Little G. has decided that 15 minute power naps are the way to go. He is Super Baby - impervious to the effects of the infant swing, which puts mere mortal babies into a deep soporific state. It seems that the only way to get him to take a longer nap is to go for a car ride. Of course, when I'm driving the baby in the car to get him to sleep, all of those little things like laundry, dirty dishes, dusting, and clutter-busting don't get done. Let's not even mention the cost of keeping gas in the tank. Lately the way I've been keeping the family in clean clothes is to put a load in at bedtime and then getting up around 5:00 a.m. to put it in the dryer. This way the clothes are dry and unwrinkled for school/work. Of course if the power happens to go out, I'll be sunk.

So here's the deal: God, if you're listening, I don't need any more patience at the moment. ;)

The Internet Is Forever

I've been reading over some other blogs on the Internet, and it never ceases to amaze me how little privacy people afford their children when writing about them. I've chosen to use initials when talking about my kids. I also am careful about what I write about them. Once you put something on the net, it's there. You can take it down, but there's no telling how many people have passed it on before you decided to remove it.

Since my oldest daughter has a form of autism known as Asperger's Disorder, I read a lot of autism blogs. I just can't believe how freely people write about the intimate details of their kids' meltdowns, problems with toilet training older kids, and other very private things. So many people make no effort to hide their names or the names of their kids. I do post on some private boards, but even then I try to protect my daughter's privacy while trying to help others or trying to find help with some of the difficulties of having an autistic child.

I think people don't think about what's going to happen to their kid when they hit middle or high school and somebody Google's their name. Can you imagine how you would have felt in middle school if someone in your class found out that your parent wrote about what a giant pain you were at four and how they couldn't stand you? Or if you found out that when you were five your mom wrote all about your incontinence or nosepicking? Kids in school can be very cruel, and I think a lot of us moms with the best of intentions are giving future bullies tons of fodder.

Remember moms, the Internet is forever.

Enviro Rant

Okay, I've been fed up with the politicization of the environment for a long time, but now they're just going too far. Throwing environmental preaching into football, interviewing 5 year olds about what they're doing for the environment - it's just too much!

Unfortunately, so many sheeple (sheep + people for those who think it's a typo) have bought into the global warming mindset it's mind boggling. I can understand how so many under the age of 35 have bought into it, but those of us old enough to remember the 1970s should be laughing in hysterics at Al Gore, Paul Erlich, and their ilk. We should also be teaching those younger than us who have no historic perspective, and who have been indoctrinated by an increasingly failing public school system.

I was just a kid back in the 70s, but I can remember all the hysteria over the coming Ice Age. Yes, that's right, just 30 short years ago scientists and the news media were predicting another Ice Age, and I'm not talking about the movie. Newsweek Magazine featured articles about it and even had it on the cover of an issue. NOVA, the PBS science show, covered it. I can even remember an episode of Barney Miller, where it was brought up during the show. (I don't watch Barney Miller re-runs, but I'm sure they probably never play that one.)

Here's the dirty little secret: the air quality during the 1970s was horrible. We only had the big 3 networks back then, and California air quality was always featured on them during the evening news, because the smog was so bad, much worse than it is today. Pittsburgh during the 70s was practically enveloped in a black, sooty cloud. During the summertime in Washington, DC the area was constantly hazy. We drove cars with fully leaded gasoline. Unleaded gas could still be found right up until the very end of the 1980s. The former U.S.S.R., China, and India were huge polluters. China and India still are. I suspect that Russia still is, but I can't state that one unequivocally. Believe me when I say the carbon footprint 30 years ago, when it was much colder, was much larger than it is today. If history guides us, then logically we should want more pollution to cool us down. For those who don't get that last statement, I'm being facetious. I don't want dirty air or water any more than the next person.

The simple fact of the matter is that earth's temperatures are cyclical in nature. The earth has had warming and cooling periods over the millennia. Historically, all of mankind's great advancement has come during warming periods, and it's declines have been during the cooling periods. For example, the Dark Ages were during a cooling period.

I would really appreciate it if you would just leave us in peace to watch our football games and not preach to us about the environment. Leave our 5 year olds alone. We don't need to scare 5 year olds about the environment. Let them have their innocence and just enjoy being 5. They'll have enough to worry about once they're grown, and they'll grow up soon enough!

The Dinner Table

Thanks to the time change screwing up the baby's schedule, such as it is, we had one of those rare dinners where the baby was asleep. I was actually able to sit at the dinner table like a normal person without the baby attached.

Other than the fact that I was sitting in my chair without the baby in my arms, it was a fairly typical dinner. S. F. was sitting at the table dissecting a pea instead of eating it. S. D. was being a typical 4 year old, not eating the chicken-a-la-king that a couple of weeks ago she would have gobbled up in seconds. G. and I were trying to get S. D. to use her inside voice at the table. Little G. is an incredibly light sleeper, and G. and I were hoping for us to get through the meal without his waking up.

Of course S. D. was having none of the inside voice thing. She's a very joyous child, and for whatever reason, last night she was especially so. Perhaps she was picking up on our good mood because the Redskins barely eked out a win. Whatever it was, no matter how many times we asked her to turn down the volume, 10 seconds later she was back to using her loud, happy voice instead of the quiet one. Finally G. had had it, and he really scolded her. She immediately ducked down under the table. We decided to ignore her and went on with the rest of our dinner. After a minute or two she peeked out from the table, looked in her dad's direction, realized the coast was clear, smiled impishly and said, "Whew!" That did it. We all broke up, and of course she did several encores of her, "Whew!" which sent us all into peals of laughter. Amazingly the baby slept through it all for once.

Of course tonight when the baby was wide awake, she did a great job of using her inside voice. ;p

Luxury

As I was savoring a rare, uninterrupted, 15 minute shower this morning I began to think, "Isn't it amazing how once you have children, your definition of luxury changes?"

A luxurious bath experience once meant 30 - 45 minutes in a hot, bubble bath with a glass of wine or cup of hot tea/coffee, listening to relaxing music on the radio. Now a luxurious bath experience is a hot shower before noon that lasts longer than 10 minutes and doesn't include children banging on the door, passing notes under the door, or hearing the baby cry as soon as you get lathered up.

Having a luxurious dinner involved a nice restaurant, a glass or two of wine, an appetizer, a delicious entree, and lingering over coffee or dessert while having a stimulating conversation with my husband and/or friends. A luxurious dinner now means getting to sit down while the food is still somewhat warm, getting to eat without a baby in my lap, and not having to get up or cut anyone else's food during dinner.

A luxurious bedtime experience used to mean going to bed with my husband, you fill in the blanks, sleeping late into the morning, and eventually getting up once the morning drowsiness wore off and the need for caffeine kicked in. Now it means going to bed and getting 5 - 6 hours of sleep before the baby awakens.

The interesting thing is, I appreciate and enjoy the type of luxurious moments I have now, post children, much more than the type I used to have.

At Least I Won't Starve

Today when it was time to go pick S. D. up from pre-school, I couldn't find my keys anywhere. After frantically searching the house, I remembered that G. had been using my keys when we drove to our friends' house for trick-or-treating with the kids, and that he'd used his keys on the way home. Much to my horror, I realized that either my keys were locked in the car or were left at our friends' home. I called G. to ask him if he knew where my keys were, on the off chance he'd set them down somewhere I hadn't thought to look. Of course, no luck there. We finally reached the conclusion that he'd have to come home and let me into the car to see if they were in there.

I called the school to let them know that I would be late and why. Thank goodness for after care! Then I set about looking for the keys and moving things around with one hand while toting the baby around with the other. Finally G. showed up and opened the car. No keys in the console, side of the door, glove compartment or on the floor of the front seat! G. gave me his set and off I went to the school to pick up S. D. while he headed back to work.

At the end of the school driveway, who should I see leaving the school, non other than the friend who probably had my keys sitting on her kitchen table/counter. I stopped, rolled my window down, and told her what was up. She told me that they hadn't seen them anywhere. These are very neat people; they don't live in Clutterland as we do, so I figured that if she didn't notice them, they must be somewhere in the car, I just needed to search again.

After getting S. D. I realized that there wasn't enough time for me to go home and get back in time to pick up S. F. so I drove around hoping and praying that Little G. would stay asleep until it was time to get his other big sister. Luckily, he did. Of course those little eyes popped open the instant she got into the car, but amazingly he stayed in a good mood until we got home.

As soon as it was possible to put him down after we got home, I went out to resume my search. I decided not to limit the search to just the front seat where the adults sit. I thought, "How long can it take? The car was thoroughly cleaned before we went on vacation in August. It shouldn't take long to search." HAH!

As I looked in the back of the car, I began to get thoroughly annoyed with my girls, especially with S. F. the twelve year old. I allow my kids to snack in the car. I believe it helps to expedite the homework process. If they eat their snack on the way home, then they can get straight to the homework once they get in the house. At least that's the theory, admittedly it doesn't always happen that way in practice.

I was under the impression that S. F. had been gathering up most of the trash and pitching it when we got home. I figured there woud be a couple of things under the seat, but I didn't expect it to be as bad as it was right before my annual vacation car cleanup. Apparently she's been storing most of the trash under the seat, even though each afternoon I see her taking trash to the trashcan in the driveway. (note to self - find out what exactly she is throwing away)

I did eventually find my keys on the third seat of the car. Apparently they had fallen out of G.'s pocket when he was getting the girls into the very back of the car.

After being really annoyed with the girls for a while about all the junk that they've shoved under the seats of my car, I decided to look on the bright side. I realized that between all of the half eaten Oreos, half drunk bottles of water, partial fruit roll-ups, and of course mold growing on some of these, I'll be well taken care of if I'm ever in a car accident where I'm trapped and they can't find me for a few days. I'll be able to eat, drink, and make my own antibiotics until help arrives. ;)

Can You Believe It's November?

Halloween is over! :)

S. F. decided to be a panda bear for Halloween. We forgot about stuffing the costume with a pillow, and since we were over at a friends' house to trick-0r-treat, she looked more like a severely anorexic panda.

The kids had a great time. S. D. in her skunk costume charmed everyone with her excessive cuteness. Of course we had the obligatory touching of her curly hair by total strangers. I think we'll have to enroll her in martial arts classes soon. ;)

Of course we forgot to take our camera, so I'm going to have to make them dress up this weekend in order to get photos. Thank goodness that Halloween is on a Friday next year. Thank you Leap Year. I hate it when Halloween is on a week night. Even though the kids were angels last night, they were a bit testy and tired this morning. All in all it's pretty good though.

On to Thanksgiving and Christmas!

Yea! I'm Accomplishing Something!

Here it is the night before Halloween, and I'm finishing up my eldest's costume, baking cupcakes for my middle one's Halloween party, and freezing food I cooked tonight for the next few nights. This feels like the most I've accomplished in weeks.

For the past month and a half it seems like all I've done is transport one child or another back and forth to the pediatrician or orthopedist. The baby and the four year old keep getting ear infections, and we keep having to tinker with the baby's Zantac dosage since he has acid reflux. S. F. broke her wrist playing field hockey. Now she's getting an orthosis, which is a fancy word for back brace, to try to halt the progression of her scoliosis. I think if the kid gets anymore x-rays she's either going to glow in the dark or develop super powers.

Thank goodness I don't have to take anyone to the doctor again until next month when the kids get their flu shots, and S.F. goes back for her next orthosis adjustment. Wait a minute, next month is the day after tomorrow. Oh well, maybe I'll get a break from being the super chauffeur after the New Year. ;)

I will say it does feel good to produce something you can see. The cooked food in the 'fridge, the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and the costume drying on dining room table (gotta love that fabric glue) do make me feel better. Now if I could just make the dishes magically get clean.

The Saga of the Addition(s)

Doctor: You're pregnant.

Me: Are you sure?

Doctor: Yes.

Me: You mean it isn't early menopause?

Doctor: No, you're pregnant.

Me: What do you mean it isn't early menopause?! (Even though I'd done a home pregnancy test, I was still in just a little bit of denial. Can you tell?)

Fourteen months ago my husband, G., and I found out we were to have another child. This news came as quite a shock, because I wasn't supposed to be able to have more children. Our four year old exists solely because of IVF. The fertility doctor who performed my surgery prior to going through IVF and the IVF itself apparently is as great as he thinks he is, since we got pregnant with S. D. on the first cycle, and we got pregnant naturally 3 years later.

G. accepted it a lot quicker than I did. After his initial, "Holy cow! How are we going to afford to have another kid, and where will he sleep?" reaction, he was absolutely overjoyed.

Call me selfish, but I had come to terms with the idea of not having anymore children and was looking forward to going back to school and getting a part time job once S.D. started school full time. I mourned the news for a month, meaning I cried every time I was in the shower where no one could hear me. I had just gotten back into decent shape. I was up to 175 crunches a day, and I was doing 11.5 miles on the exercise bike 5 times a week. I was also upset because I'm not one of those women who have easy pregnancies; the prospect of lots of bed rest with a 3 year old running around the house was not a happy thought. If you ever need to know anything about hyperemesis, anencephaly, polyhydramnios, or incarcerated uterus's, I'm your gal.

It actually took having some spotting for me to realize that I really, really wanted this little baby. Don't get me wrong, terminating was never an option. I knew that once he/she got here that I'd love him/her as much my others. I was just mourning the loss of the future I'd come to envision. As soon as I was faced with the idea of losing the baby, I knew that I had to do everything possible to make certain he/she got here safely. Now that he's here, I am absolutely in love with this adorable little guy, and can't imagine life without him. What was I thinking?

Talking about this cute, adorable, little addition to our family brings me to the topic of the other addition we're trying to cope with.

After the initial shock of having another child wore off, we realized that our current home as is, simply isn't big enough. Of course, we also found out about our little guy's imminent arrival just when the real estate market started to tank in our area. Moving also came with it's own set of problems. Our 12 year old with Asperger's Disorder doesn't cope well with change. We figured the arrival of another child was enough for her to deal with, let alone moving to a completely different neighborhood. Also, in order to sell our house, we would have had to live in our camper to show it; otherwise we would never be able to sell it. Since having children, clutter seems to have become our natural habitat. There is also the problem of all of the 2/3 finished projects around the house that would need to be completed ASAP.

We decided that the best course of action was to build an addition to our current home. The fun is just beginning. First we had to find an architect and decide on the plans. This took a little longer than we expected. Now that we have the plans, we're dealing with the joy of finding a contractor.

When we first came to the decision to add on to our house, we thought we knew what contractor we'd use. The same honest, trustworthy builder who built not only my MIL and FIL's addition, but also my BIL's addition. This guy is great! Imagine our horror when my husband contacted him only to find out that he'd gotten out of the business. He told my husband that he'd gotten out, because he was tired of dealing with all of the sharks in the business. He wished us luck in finding that most rare of all things, an honest contractor.

We now have bids ranging from $160,000 - $300,000. (Yes, we live in the suburbs of a major city, meaning higher prices.) When the guy called me with the $300,000 quote, I actually laughed at him and asked if he was planning to use platinum as a building material. We could move 30 minutes away from where we are and have a four bedroom house for $350,000 - granted it would be on a postage stamp sized lot, but $300,000 for our little addition is a bit much. I think I offended him, because we haven't heard a peep from him since.

Then there's the contractor that told us he'd get a quote to us within a week. Five weeks later we got the quote, but he still hasn't gotten his references to us. My gut tells me not to go with him either.

We've had the 'good ole boys' contractors out, too. These guys are really nice, but when the lead guy told us he had to take the plans to three other builders to get ideas on how to go about building our addition, let's just say our confidence level wasn't too high. Now, I'm not a builder, but the plans the architect drew up seem pretty straightforward to me.

Then there's the guy who couldn't find our house and didn't bother to call to let us know he was planning on coming out anyway. My husband played phone tag with him for two weeks. He has a bad habit of not returning calls, and he doesn't even have the job yet. Imagine how bad he'll be at returning calls once work begins. We don't think we'll be using him either.

Of all the contractors we've had out to the house, only one has stood out. He came prepared with a quote based on the plans and photos he got from the architect. When we told him we thought he was a little on the high side, he reworked the quote and came back $20,000 cheaper within 24 hours. He also got his references to us within 24 hours of our request. I keep wondering what's wrong with him. He doesn't act like a normal contractor.

We'll keep you posted on the addition(s) saga as it continues. Maybe we'll have the baby out of our bedroom by the time he's in kindergarten.

One Costume Crisis Averted

Thank you, S. F.

She got out the old skunk costume and convinced S. D., the 4 year old, to try it on. She immediately started to wiggle the tail of the costume which sent Little G, the 7 month old, into hysterics. S. D. is now happily proclaiming to everyone that she's going to be a skunk for Halloween.

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, S. F.

Now we just have one costume to figure out. If only I could convince S. F. to be a ghost. ;)

Halloween Costume Dilemna

Halloween is less than a week away, and here I am searching the Family Fun website to come up with ideas for simple, homemade costumes for my 12 and 4 year old daughters. Nothing like waiting until the last minute. :)

The 12 year old wants her costume to be cool, which probably means creepy. Thankfully the 4 year old doesn't get scared by creepy things, and creepy is easy - a little face paint, black garb, teased hair, you're good to go. But the 4 year old, she's hard.

I pulled out the skunk costume my 12 year old wore when she was 4, but of course S.D. says, "No way!" So much for frugality. Even telling her that Grandmother helped to make it, (meaning did all the sewing part because I would have sewn my sleeve to the thing) didn't work. S.D. wants to be a Super Spy. The trick is trying to figure out how to make a Super Spy costume for a little girl that's recognizable. Trying to explain what the costume is as you go out trick-or-treating is really not much fun - been there, done that. Maybe I'll just print up a costume explanation on a business card and hand it out as we get questions and quizzical looks.

Maybe I'll just convince them both to be ghosts or vampires. Wish me luck.

Tomatoes

Mom: How was school today, honey?

S. D.: It was great! We had P.E. and music.

Mom: That's great.

S. D.: But I don't want the tomatoes to get me.

Mom: What do you mean? Tomatoes won't get you. We eat tomatoes.

S. D.: No, Mommy. We had to practice today about the tomatoes. That way they won't get you.

Mom: Was this something to do with Halloween?

S. D.: No, I'm talking about the tomatoes! How they spin around and around and the wind is really fast.

Mom: Oh, tornadoes!

S. D.: Yeah, that's right. Tomatoes.

Dear Stranger in the Mall, Grocery Store, etc.

Dear Stranger,

Please take my advice. When there is a seven month old baby sitting in a stroller in the mall elevator looking up at his mother with a very worried face and obviously looking for reassurance from his mother, do not choose this moment to coochy-coo the anxious baby. I can assure you from personal experience that the baby is not likely to smile up at you or giggle. What is much more likely to occur is a blood-curdling scream followed by several minutes of inconsolable crying. Of course by this point, you, Dear Stranger, will have more than likely already vacated the scene.

Also, Dear Stranger, when you see a four year old girl with Shirley Temple-like curls, a sunny disposition, and an angelic face, please resist the temptation to touch her hair. Shirley Temple curls are adorable; however, if this were an adult whose hair you found beautiful, ask yourself, would you reach out to stroke the hair? Why is that you think it's acceptable for you to stroke the beautiful hair of a child you don't know, but you wouldn't dare do the same if the hair was attached to an adult?

I realize that I have been blessed with three very cute children. I think this is nature's way of ensuring they'll make it to adulthood when they do things like spill milk all over the bills on the dining room table and neglect to mention it, but instead cover it up with other papers, so that when their father or I find the bills hours later they are nothing but a massive clump of illegible gobbledygook. Just because my kids are cute and fairly well behaved in public most of the time, this does not mean that you, Dear Stranger, should take this as in invitation to man-handle them. Instead, please just offer a compliment on their cuteness, behavior, or hair. I'm sure they'd appreciate it, and I know I would.

Sincerely,
The Mom Who Deals with the Fallout

The Last Cookie

"Dad has the last Oreo!"

"I want it!"

"No, I want it!"

"Please, Dad, please."

"Come on, Dad, share."

"No, it's mine."

At this point S. F., the 12 year old, goes off to sulk over the loss of the last Oreo. S. D., the 4 year old, gives Dad her most cute and sweet please. I can see by the look across Dad's face that the cuteness has worked its magic; he's going to give up the cookie to the girls. They, of course don't know this.

Dad breaks the cookie apart and gives half to S. D., she beams at Dad and then does the most generous thing. She walks over to her big sister, breaks her half of the cookie in half and gives that half to her big sister. She didn't realize that Daddy was going to give the other half to S. F.

The most amazing part of the story is that just 30 minutes before this, the two of them were driving each other up the wall.

Allow Me to Introduce Myself

I'm a stay at home mom (SAHM), but I prefer the term Professional Parent. After all, being a parent to three children ages 7 months, 4 1/2 years, and 12 1/2 years causes you to draw on several different job skills. I'm a chauffer, cook, laundress, maid (although admittedly not a good one), nurse, drill sargeant, tutor, editor, and psychologist. I'm sure there are a few others I've forgotten to mention, but they'll come up in later posts.

Being a Professional Parent for the past 12 1/2 years has been the greatest, most wonderful, and most frustrating experience of my life. My two daughters ages 12 and 4 are as different from one another as possible. Now I'm finding out how different it is having a son, even though he's only 7 months old, and I'm not just talking about learning how to speed diaper so as not to get sprayed.

My 12 year old has a form of autism called Asperger's Disorder. She is the quintessential rule follower and keeper of the routine. She's smart, funny, and beautiful. She's also a lot of work, but well worth it. We are constantly having teaching moments, because she doesn't understand social nuances. We also have a lot of misunderstandings that lead to great humor, because she takes things so literally. Just the other day, she ran shrieking from the room because I was talking about another parent "dressing her son down". She of course got a mental image of her friend naked. She's been melodramatically claiming that she's scarred for life by the image in her head.

My four year old is the polar opposite. She thrives on change. She wakes up every morning wanting to know what we're going to do. She loves it when we say we're going somewhere new. She is definitely "the glass half full" type. She'll comfort her big sister and tell her everything will be okay. It's great knowing that I've given birth to an eternal optimist. I think she'll probably live a long and happy life because of her sunny disposition.

My son is incredibly different from either of his sisters, even though he's only 7 months old. He is at the moment mommy's boy, not to be confused with mama's boy. He looks at me in a way that is completely different than his sisters did as infants. It's obvious that for the moment the world revolves around me. I'll admit I'm enjoying the adoration for the time being, because I know how fleeting this time is. He is our observer. He watches his sisters all the time. He also finds something funny once. After he's had his giggle, he's finished. If one of the girls makes him laugh, the next time they do the same thing, they get a polite smile or a tiny chuckle.

It's amazing how three children from the same exact gene pool can be so different from one another. You'll be hearing a lot about them.