What I'd like to know from you, part three:

1. How do you decide how much to spend on Christmas gifts?--for friends, for family, for children, etc.
2. What are your feelings on Cool Whip?
3. When was the last time you left work or school early simply because...you could?
4. Rate your excitement on getting a new calendar: 1 being "Meh." and 10 being "I think I need a new pair of underwear."
5. How much does a gallon of regular gas cost where you live?

Am anxiously awaiting your replies.

Random useless tidbits

I had plans to make a ham in the crockpot for dinner tonight. But I'll be damned if my crockpot was too small and my ham was too big. I tried wrestling with it for a bit this morning--trying it this way and that--but, sadly, it was not to be.

Am thinking I'll just cook it in the oven this weekend.

I love ham.

****

My head has been kind of hurty this morning and I'm not sure why.

****

I know there are umpteen sites out there for making your own invitations and announcements and whatnot, but I super want to recommend Vistaprint. They are awesome. Extremely flexible to edit, lots of styles and options, good paper quality, super affordable, frequent mark-downs and super fast to ship (48 hours, people!).

A co-worker used them for all of her wedding invitation stuff and I've used them for Ezra's first birthday invitation (highlight: I was able to include a PDF map on the reverse side) and Iris' first birthday invitation (highlight: I changed the wording to read: "Come celebrate a year of life..." and gave her birth weight and current weight rather than have it be a shower invite).

So, so recommend.

****

Damn. I shouldn't have typed the word "ham." Now I want it something fierce.

****

It's cold here today. Rainy and 45. Hello, fall.

****

This morning I tried to iron a slightly thinner knit sweater that was mad wrinkled. However, instead of being smoothed out, the iron merely melted some of the fuzz and now there is pink fur all over the iron.

T is going to be pissed if he tries to iron one of his dress shirts and it ends getting smeared with pink fur.

****

I just saw a student's--male--nipples through his t-shirt (I grimaced).

Told you it was cold.

****

(toddler poo story approaching...)

Last night Ezra had so much poo in his diaper after dinner, that a piece of corn shot up the front of his diaper and stuck to his belly.

This both repulses me beyond belief and makes me laugh manically.

****

I am having surgery on my hand nubbin in a few weeks. It's done in the office and apparently I get some super cool bandage afterwards that will probably make me look like a handicapped sloth.

I'm planning on going to work afterwards but asked T to come with me just in case I turn into a wilting flower and/or decide to nab a crapton of pain meds on my way out the door.

T's response: "You don't want me to pull a Greg, do you?"

Which, of course, means we're watching way too much Bravo in our house.

****

Speaking of tv, how much am I loving Guiliana and Bill? How about a super lot. They're smart and functional and kind to one another and yet not perfect.

****

Am off to evaluate my lunch eating options...

Mama McFly

I have decided that, personally speaking, there is something to be said for the argument that being a mother has perhaps not been the best move career-wise for me.

I no longer am an active member in professional groups.

I no longer seek committee work.

I no longer readily offer to stay outside of my regular hours.

I no longer feel excited by the prospect of professional ambitions.

Work conferences are an opportunity to sleep on sheets someone else changes and not to feel reinvigorated in my career.

I use lunch hours to cram in errands rather than attend lunchtime work events.

I use time at work for an ever growing list of personal things that I can not get done at home (just short of laundry and shaving).

Some of this bothers me and some of it doesn't. I have the desire to feel more ambitious professionally, but I just don't have the action-behind-the-desire to make it happen. If I had to guess, I think this Action is probably being spread out at home in making sure everyone stays alive.

I'd love to really have a conversation with a women who is plowing ahead at work and at home; a woman who feels like they're firing on all cylinders at both places. What do they tell themselves to keep the motivation strong? How do they structure their days? What is their job like? What do they desire professionally?

Sometimes I placate myself by saying, "Your life is richer now. There are more people who mean more things in more ways." This is true, but there is still a...niggling. Maybe because for so long I went to school and worked towards what is now something I take for granted and merely punch-in for daily. Like, it feels like it should be more than it is, but maybe this is because of educational conditioning?

Work doesn't need to be everything to or for me, in fact, I'd like quite the opposite. Alternately, I need work to be more than a time kill and paycheck place from 9:00am-5:00pm, five days a week.

Dilemmas.

Poo, weekend to-do's and zombies

I think the flow of poo is slowing at our house. Poor Baby Iris.

Turns out, though, that this was actually a stomach bug of the projectile kind (as reported from J the Fabulous Nanny and her boyfriend/my brother who also contracted it) but since Iris has a Nissen she can't actually throw-up. Anything that would affect her stomach-wise will just manifest itself in this particular way. Gag. No word on how this play out with drunken benders sure to come in her college years. I imagine that girlfriends are less likely to hold your hair if you have diarrhea. Just sayin'.

But enough about that.

I accomplished almost everything on my to-do list as posted on Friday, but let's talk about that cornucopia for a hot minute. One, it's kinda tiny. And while I like miniature things, trying to cut out the stem of a felt tomato 1/8 the size of a regular tomato stem while using hoopty scissors is kind of challenging. I am also a damn fool for not realizing that one would need TWO sides in order to sew/paste something. Sigh. Am stupid. Anyway, after wrestling with the cornucopia "horn," a butternut squash, a green bean and a pear--my hand looked like a chicken foot. And I'd also run upstairs to change Iris' diaper twice and run upstairs to grab cotton balls to stuff the squash and pear with and run into the kitchen for a snack. End of the week for this bad boy--tops.

The pumpkin bread turned into pumpkin muffins turned into pumpkin cake. I'm not sure where the fresh hell our bread loaf pans went, but we have none. I called Fresh Starr Fish for her take on baking times before dumping everything into a glass 9x13. It turned out cake-like which isn't bad, but we didn't really need that much cake. Ezra is kind of suspicious of it; T and I are digging it.

So we both had slices or squares of it before going to bed and we both had the nuttiest-ass dreams evah. I dreamt repeatedly (dream-wake up-feel cootie-dream-wake up-repeat) of zombies. The government kept trying to keep people safe in schools, but my panicked thinking in the dream was that we'd all be effed and trapped once the zombies descended. Then they tried to shove everyone on buses, but I was struggling to carry Iris and Ezra and planning for how many oxygen tanks we'd need because who knew when we'd be coming home.

My heart is beating a little fast just recounting it. Ugh. It was kinda scary, people.

T, apparently, dreamt of outer space.

Me: "How'd you sleep?"

Him: "I kept dreaming of space!"

Me: "I dreamt about zombies!"

Him: "What the hell did you put in that cake?"

Lord if I know, but I do know I am not eating any before bedtime tonight. Turns out that it is a Daytime Cake.

Feelin' big for my britches

While stuffing my maw with nachos over lunch, an unexpected and slightly foreign feeling of Productivity came over me. Suddenly I wanted to do lots of things; accomplish tidbits I'd been setting to the side.

After I finished said nachos and they expanded to twice their original size while in my tummy (prompting a call to Red Door where I moaned and made guttural noises into her cell phone), I went over to Hobby Lobby.

Oh, Hobby Lobby.

I was moving tres slow because some sort of funky poo bug has stricken Iris and twice she woke up last night basically laying in a pond of poo (it was horrible--if you can imagine) that required fresh linens of all sorts and a jammie change and rocking back to sleep and me chucking the scary diaper into the garage to cool the eff down.

So even though I was shuffling through Hobby Lobby, I felt giddy. So much felt! So many decorations! A Cricut!

And this is what I hope to accomplish this weekend...

...laundry beyond my wildest dreams because of the Pond of Poo I mentioned earlier.

...making a menu plan for the week.

...grocery shopping, for consumable goods are at an all-time low.

...Gymboree with Ezra.

...play date with CurlyGirl and her monkeys.

...seeing Jackass and eating my ever-expanding weight in popcorn with Fanny.

...making chocolate chip pumpkin bread. Or muffins. Speaking of which, we call Iris "Muffin." Ezra loves to eat muffins in the morning (he'll eat entire one and have a glass of milk before then going on to eat an entire breakfast, lunch and snack at school). Because of this, we all sometimes get confused about the muffin comings-and-goings in our house.

...re-gluing antique keys into a picture box that met an ugly death at the hand of the woman that cleans our house.

...making this for Ezra to play with which I think I can totally bang out while catching up on my DVR. Also, I am very pro-glue so I won't be stitching it together. Melissa and Doug and suck it.


What have you got going on this weekend?

Snort!

T and I watched this commercial over and over last night. We just couldn't stop rewinding our DVR.

And given the number of times I just watched it on YouTube and snort laughed in my office, I'm still finding it funny.

Best part of the day

Random useless tidbits

I have a wicked hangnail.

****

I keep cancelling and rescheduling Ezra's flu shot. He totally knows what happens now and the holding him down and resulting shrieks are so so horrible. I've now put it off until next Wednesday.

****

At lunch, I flung pizza sauce on my cream silk blouse. I should only be allowed to wear cotton.

Or tarps.

****

I want to go home and snuggle with Iris. And Ezra. And T. Group snuggle.

****

I so need to go grocery shopping and I so do not have the time or energy. I would like food to magically appear in my fridge. Right now.

****

My teaching for this term is almost done and holy snakes am I glad. Like with any classroom setting, some students are attentive and some are uppity douches.

I mostly wish I could just shout: Listen up, fools. When you leave here your boss is going to expect you to do the exact thing I am showing you how to do. I get that it's boring--it's kinda boring to me too, but put on your big boy or big girl undies and understand the future value of this information.

****

T just called and in the course of talking about the upcoming weekend, we came to the joint realization that sleeping in means not hearing noise from anyone's crib before 7:00am.

Bleak, folks.

****

Mini candy bars are sounding awfully good to me as of late. I refuse to buy Halloween candy until Saturday the 30th. I have been trying super hard to keep my eating in check and with copious weighing and eyeballing of digital numbers, have done okay.

Fun-size candy bars, particularly Snickers, could send this straight to hell. Fast.

****

I am tired and feeling crankier as the minutes tick by.

That is all.

You got any randomness going on today?

Chi-cahhhh-go

After only three months in the making, this Saturday Ezra and I drove down to Chicago to see Sam and Sara and Pseudostoops (aka Mrs. Stoops--snort).

E was manned with new Richard Scarry books ("New Busy Town, Mama! Where's Goldbug?"), snacks upon snacks upon snacks, a portable DVD player courtesy of CurlyGirl and a crapton of Caillou DVDs. Sidenote: Caillou makes me in.freakin.sane. T hates Rosie. I think their dad needs a haircut. T hates that everyone wears primary colors. It's a spiral of hate once T and I start listing everything we loathe about the tiny French-Canadian with no hair.

The trip there took a bit longer because Ezra lost his mind for a hot second after only about an hour and a half and that called for a stroll around some mildly creepy McDonald's and the lawn of the nearby Courtyard Marriott.

The trip home also went smoothly, but Ezra became more than a little suspicious when it turned dark out. At first I was confused ("Yeah. It's called DUSK.") but then felt like a douche when I realized that he's never outside when it's dark. He's always in bed! The whole "Where's the sun, Mama?" made more sense once I realized that.

The boys played really well together which caused the adults to heavily sigh together. For it could've been bad; really bad. But it wasn't! It was good!

(photos totally snagglepussed from Sam)

And now the requisite "goodbye" photo of the three of them together.

It started off well. Everyone was on the same step, looking the same direction, holding a stick (well, two sticks and a dried stem...)

Then Ezra decided that the leaves needed some poking.

Noah was repeatedly letting us know, "No hitting sticks!"

Theo looked dejected.

Ezra and Noah decided to address the pile of leaves together.

Theo continues to wonder, "WTF, guys."

All in all it was the most lovely of days. Sunny skies. Laughing women. Cheesy pizza. Pleasant-ish toddlers.

Thumbs up.

Sunday. SUNDAY!

T and I looked at each at 7:13am and I said, "We both feel clobbered. Let's make today's theme Patience and Kindness." "Okay," he said.

We sometimes have to actually put out there the fact that we need to be patient and kind with one another and, somehow, by vocalizing it--the day is better and sure as shit we are patient and kind. Apparently, just thinking happy thoughts in our house doesn't cut it. Whatever works, I guess.

Anyway, after a long week it was one of those mornings where--putting on my truth badge here--I kinda wish I didn't have kids for it was going to be an interminable day chockfull of sleepiness and wishing it were 12 hours later in the day and jammie-time for one and all.

Well, I'm a panty-waist (shocker) and the day was completely lovely and laid back and free of sharp tones between parents. The laundry got done, the grocery shopping didn't and a visit to the grandparents went down. Shoot, it even involved cheesy dip and some fall sunshine and I'm not sure it really gets better than that on a Sunday.

As I type, T is out stocking up on the evening vitals: formula for Iris, apple juice for Ezra, an Us Weekly for me and chicken wings for T and I for dinner.

Side note: I am in deadly need of a 12-step program for boneless chicken wings. I have turned full-fledged into a hillbilly (as this seems like something hillbillies would eat a lot of) and really can't stop. Halp.

Pictures:

Head and shoulders; knees and toes; knees and toes

So Iris.

When she was in the hospital and family members and fabulously concerned strangers were reading this blog, I would update monthly or so on her health status. Then she came home and the state of her health didn't go through quite so many changes and I was trying to figure out how to have to kids at home and remain upright. Iris was also considered, for the most part, stable. But quite a few things have happened since she was discharged, so here is what the Muffin is up to...

Eyes

• Her ROP has completely resolved itself.
• Her pediatric opthalomolgist proclaimed her vision absolutely perfect and we don't need to see him again until next summer.

Heart

• We've seen her pediatric cardiologist twice since her discharge in early June and lands alive if that man isn't God sent. I really could not ask for a nicer, more concerned, more genuine physician.
• Anyway, her heart and lung pressures are completely normal. Not just normal for her given her jenky birth situation, but normal Period.
• She is no longer on the Sildenafil which she was taking every six hours. She outgrew the dosage amount and simply no longer needs it.
• He also discontinued one of her diuretics and sent a letter to the pulmonologist recommending that the second diuretic also be discontinued since Iris' is beyond the threat of fluid accumulating around her heart and lungs due to how much healthier and stronger those two organs are.
• The patch they put on her ginormous VSD is working and there are no leaks. Sometimes leaks occur because, as the cardiologist explained, it would be like sewing a stretchy patch on a wetsuit and expecting it to be waterproof; kinda tricky.
• But everything looks fabulous and we won't need to see him again for another year.

Lungs

• She's still on .1L of oxygen at home and off it 2 hours a day. Her saturations have been amazing while off of it.
• We saw the pulmonologist yesterday and she agreed to discontinue the second diuretic.
• Of her two daily nebulizer treatments, one can be discontinued and only kept around if she gets a cold. The other can be taken down to once a day. They also can be administered through an inhaler versus a nebulizer which cuts down the dosing time by a massive amount and be quieter over all.
• We have a plan to continue weaning the oxygen so that by Thanksgiving she should be off of it completely while awake.
• For the nighttime oxygen, we'll then do an at-home sleep study off the oxygen with her normal monitor. The company will download it and send it to the doctor. If it all looks fabulous--then she's DONE. If the monitor acted up, then an in-hospital sleep study will be recommended.
• Holy snakes, folks, this could mean that a Christmas card minus tubes could actually happen. Balls.

General development whatnot

• Iris is "performing" perfectly as a eight to nine month old; doing what she is supposed to be doing. Her interpersonal interactions (eye contact, reaching, smiling, responses to family and to strangers) are appropriate for her actual age of 11 months old.
• She is still allllllmost on the weight chart for 11 months old and at the rate that she is gaining, her pediatricians expect her to be by her first birthday. This completely boggles my mind given where she started out.
• Eating and feeding and taking food by mouth is absolutely painstaking and I think it will be a hurdle for a long, long time. As in, years. Thankfully, we've got nothing but time and speech/feeding therapy on our side. I actively try to be in a patient, zen place about it all but it's very, very hard.
• Iris has almost doubled her weight in four and a half months.
• Her six months clothes are becoming too small.
• She has a wicked comb-over due to some mega long hair on top.
• Lastly, she is the most perfect shade of brown known to man. It is the tan I always wished I could be.

Put that sucka on Mute

So T has been gone all week. While I have missed him and his mad skillz around the house, mainly I've missed sharing my (NotSo)Earthshattering tidbits with him. Tidbits that usually involve a fair amount hassle and perhaps encouraging/forcing him to come to some sort of conclusion about things. In a speedy manner. Perhaps now.

One of these tidbits I've been mulling over for no less than probably 14 months--the last nine months in more a heightened fashion and the last five days non-stop.

I worked late last night and while I fully intended to sit on the couch and catch up with T, he was working and I was tired/crabby/wanting to snack. However, I got a bit of a second wind and said these infamous words:

"So, I've been thinking about something..."

God love him, T mutes the tv now when I bust out of the gate with that. He doesn't know what's coming and he has shared that those words instill a fair amount of anxiety. Because, like I mentioned earlier, what's coming is probably something he's going to have to do, decide, mull over or get crackin' on.

Whatever.

So I continue on and basically have diarrhea of the mouth confessing and explaining in detail (I nixed the Powerpoint slides at the last minute) why I don't want to have any more kids. At all. And I'd be willing to get my tubes tied. And never look back.

T was given many more details and bullet points (I'll spare you), but I basically said I'd be willing to wait until Iris' original due date in March, but I'd kinda like to move forward in some sort of fashion after that and if he could really think and sort through and pray about how he feels about our family size between now and then--well, that would be fabulous.

T's response, "I'll do that. Can I watch my show now?"

Sigh. Sure.

Reading material

A few weeks ago I updated my Google Reader with some blogs of people who have been reading here and whom I wanted to start reading more regularly as well. I also added some sites that I just discovered by clicking around randomly.

Some of these writers have been my friends in my life pre-blog, pre-Twitter, pre-Internet. Some are now friends that I can't imagine being without. Some I save their posts for when I can really focus such are their deep-thoughts and/or hilarity. Some I admire.

What all of them have in common is that I so often think of these individuals, you!, when I'm not in front of the computer. Your lives, your joys and your predicaments pop into my head when I'm blow drying my hair or driving around in the car. It would probably be considered super Creepy Pete if you knew how much I think about you all.

Because of how intangible this writing/blogging experience can be, it is hard to know the reach or the extent of one's effect on another's life. But I want you know that I love reading each and every one of you.

Thank you for enriching my life.

RegulaTOR

I think perhaps men can't plan. Like, they're physically unable to use calendaring and boxes and dates and putting all of those things together with advance thoughts.

Awhile ago I think I read some sort of article on some website like Salon talking about brain-space and how women can multi-task and plan within an inch of their lives. Freakin' machines, we are. That this then gives us skills as mothers and/or professionals that men, in roles as fathers and/or professionals, are kind of lacking. That men are definitely One.Thing.At.A.Time. Full stop. Okay.Now.One.More.Thing.

This theme of Mostly Mens + Struggling with Planning + Me Being Put-out But Also Awesome is slowly coming to a head with T trying to prep our home for his departure to Germany.

This is what T tells me, "I'll need to be there for three days plus two days traveling. We still don't have dates yet because it's a meeting pulling people from Asia and the U.S. and it's been really hard to coordinate and I still don't know. Maybe not going two weeks from now; maybe early November."

What I hear, "Homeslice, who probably makes three times what I make, can't seem to get his act together and coordinate a meeting."

I told T, "Listen, get So-and-so on the phone and let's make this happen. I have umpteen things planned around you being gone and I am tired of it being all willy-nilly. If this meeting is soooo important, then why isn't he trying very hard to get it scheduled? If the people are soooo important, then why is one waiting until the last minute to schedule it? Seems to me that someone just isn't trying hard enough and I'm sick of it. He can stuff it."

I may have also had PMS. Whatever.

And because you want to hear more, I also think that the multi-tasking of this crazy ass job called Motherhood has prepared me for more in life that being a librarian. I'm thinking Bigtime Corporate Wrangling.

Bossing people around?--check.
Able to repeat myself ad nausium?--check.
Not afraid to give threats of taking away things in exchange for greater diligence?--check.
Give orders left and right and demand it get done?--check.
Always tired?--check.
Maximizing few hours of true productivity?--check.
Able to chase people in heels?--check.

It wasn't until I was climbing the basement stairs yesterday holding a pile of laundry, shouting instructions at T on what do with it (you'd be surprised...), thinking about what to buy at the store, thinking about naptime for Iris, naptime for Ezra, lunch preparations, how to incorporate Ezra's Bible story into our week, what to wear for work tomorrow, what the kids should wear and wondering if I picked up the drycleaning that it occurred to me that I totally have picked up broader job skills by merely becoming knocked up. That out of necessity of having clean clothes and food in the fridge I could totally run a big corporation.

However, I can't do math and sometimes I go too long between waxes for my upper lip so this mayyyyy be a deterrent to a corporate headhunter. Who knows.

Waffling

So, here's the thing: How do you know whether or not to help someone?--to extend yourself and make things, even if only once, easier for someone else but perhaps harder for you?

****

Once Iris came home and we made it through the summer and work settled itself down, I started signing up at church to take meals to people. We were the recipients of meals after I delivered Noah and Iris as well as after Iris came home, and while I'm pretty sure I looked like the walking dead during both periods in time, the meals kept coming and they were lovely and tasty and I always wanted to hug those that dropped them off. A few of the meals T and I still talk about such was their infamy on the tongue.

Anyway, I've signed up for a few and toted Ezra along with me when we've dropped them off so that he gets the idea of kindness and sharing and perhaps, you know, doing some good rather than whacking someone in the melon over a Weeble.

Our church uses The Common to organize and manage everything beyond just the need meals. Shut-ins who need visitors, someone who needs a used trumpet for school, another person who needs help fixing something--it's all there. It's pretty nifty.

Anyway, there is one posting for a single mom who has two older children and who also recently had twins, both of whom have feeding tubes. The request was for some nighttime evening help so that the mom can have a hot minute of sleep. I completely paused on this posting because I can handle babies and feedings tubes--in the dark, no less! while they try to ninja chop you with their newly strong limbs--and I'm not sure how many people can; kind of a niche group.

But I like to sleep. And after each day I'm worn out. And time with my family and T is precious. And excuse, excuse, excuse. Because those are excuses. This woman needs help and I have the ability to help her, but I'm choosing not to because my stuff is seemingly more important. I'm guessing that's why it's called "sacrifice."

I also wonder, "What will one night do for this mom?" I can really only see doing it once and is that even worth it? But as many of us know, one night of sleep can make a world of difference. Shoot--three hours of consecutive sleep can do that.

So, I waffle. I know what the right thing to do is, but...

Dip it in butter and press on

Last week I received an invitation from the hospital's Bereavement Services about the annual service they have for families who have had children pass away. I was about to type "die"--but "pass away" is much more palatable.

I stuffed the announcement in my bag thinking that I'd sit on it for awhile and maybe my feelings would change. They didn't. I didn't even bother to mention it to T for he can barely look at hospital photos of Iris now that she's home. I think dealing with a service would be outside the realm of possibility or even ability for him.

So I ripped up the invite and checked the "No, thank you" box as well as the "Please remove me from your mailing list" box on the RSVP. Because let's just acknowledge that I don't want anything that you have to offer me.

****

I have been in frequent email contact with two of the nurses that primarily cared for Iris. They are both lovely women and as I've tried to express to them, probably sounding like a sap/damn fool: even though your relationship with us was a professional one--your relationship with our daughter was, to us, a very personal one. You helped keep her alive and for me there are no words to express how much that has impacted us.

Anyway, J the Nurse emailed me last week letting me know that both she and B would be working and would I have time to stop by before Iris' usual Thursday appointment? I let her know that we would be there and couldn't wait to see them both.

Then last night I started feeling panicky. I haven't been to the hospital since Iris was discharged. When Ezra had to have his adenoids out in July, we purposefully chose another surgical location because I wasn't ready to go back there.

This morning I started thinking about not showing up. I didn't want to use the parking garage. The parking garage where I often ended up crying in my car after having to leave Iris in the middle of the day. I didn't want to use the valet. The valet I would throw my keys and $5.00 at so that I could spend just one more minute with her and maximize my lunch break. I didn't want to have to smell the cafeteria food. Walk down the hallway to the elevator. Use the stairwell because I know from experience that the elevator is always too slow. See the receptionist on the NICU floor. None of it. I didn't want to do it because I already did it for 186 days.

But I did.

And as I walked down the hallway to the elevator, I felt short of breath and sweaty. And I started to cry. It was horrible and familiar and the same and I did not like it.

Once on the NICU floor, I was okay. Strangely, the hardest part was getting there. Hugs were given. Iris smiled and clapped. Other nurses stopped by. I was sad when our visit ended. I am glad we went.

When wrestling a lobster at dinner once, my friend M was told to "dip it in butter and press on." T and I often tell each other that when we encounter something that is less than savory (edible crustacean and PTSD alike). I think I would've felt like a wienie had we not gone, and I figure maybe it won't be so hard next time. Or it'll be just as hard as it was today, but at least I'll know that I can make it to that elevator.

I am v. disappointed in you, Lunch.

Today was not a good lunch day.

I was hungry enough to eat my face which caused unclear planning and unclear thinking about where to go and what do. No clear errands to run, no decision on what sounded good to eat BECAUSE IT ALL SOUNDED GOOD--just me kind of spastically running out of the building with my car keys in hand, foaming at the mouth.

I ended up at Panera because while I wanted a spicy, boneless chicken wing (Hello, my pretty...), I didn't want to have to tip someone but I also didn't want to wait for a take-out order and I didn't want to eat in my office because I needed a change of scenery and oh my gawd when I was I going to be able to have food in my stomach. FRENZY!

Also, I want to mention here that T and I have put ourselves on a cash allowance system Monday through Friday for coffees and lunches. Neither of us get our acts together enough to make a lunch and I desperately need coffee to keep me upright until at least 7:00pm. T can eat lunch for $3-4 at his workplace cafeteria but drinks tea and coffee throughout the day while I only need one coffee in the morning but my lunches are more expensive. Anyway, the keeping track of card swiping and receipts was painful hence the new cash-based system. I am loving it, but back to my original dilemma--I'll be damned if I was going to tip someone with my allowance.

This is where, in my hungry stupor and high expectations for being fed, I was disappointed: I received a cold sandwich when I thought I would be receiving a hot one. It wasn't hot-then-turned-cold, nope just made cold on regular untoasted bread. I really wanted a melty sandwich and I did not receive one. It's not-warm-sandwich is still hanging like a pallor and here it is almost 4pm. Boo.

I have a feeling, though, that Dinner may step up where Lunch failed to deliver.
For at home there is a ginormous pot pie waiting for me. Is there anything better than gravy AND crust AND chicken AND carrots all in one dish? I think not. Granted it's almost 75 here today, but whatever. I will enjoy it. I could eat a pot pie any day. I am very pro-gravy.

As for lunch, tomorrow is another day.

Love is in the air

I am feeling upbeat today. No particular reason, really, just am. And! It seems others are as well for even though I'm at work, the day is kinda feeling like a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical. Minus the singing and dance numbers and 'bouts of skipping (doesn't it seem like there is an awful lot of skipping in musicals?), people are smiling and being pleasant. If I weren't upbeat, I'd be suspicious.

Anyway, on behalf of the K family--here is what we are individually loving:

Iris:

• Waking up at 5:00am to clap for an hour, in the dark no less, and then falling back asleep until 7:30am
• Gerber's apples and blueberries
• Her brother talking loudly in her face (she laughs everytime which, strange I know!, doesn't seem to deter the Toddler)
• Turning the thin, crinkly pages of her father's Business Week magazine. The noise! The texture! The flailing of happy arms!

Ezra:

• Raviolis and sauce
• Goldbug
• The pending arrival of his astronaut costume ("I wear it NOW, Mama? NOW?!" "No, it's not here yet. Just be patient.")
• The fact that I will do the hot dog dance upon request (darn thing gets my heartrate up if that's any indication of my fitness level--of course, I do put my back into it)
• The new-to-him Handy Manny (pronounced "Hanny Manny")

T:

• Sunshine
• Having the heat on
• Eating wings for dinner two nights in a row
• Pictures of the kidlets on his AfricanAmerican Berry

Me:

• Good deals at the drycleaner (I'm easy to please)
• Boneless chicken wings covered in Asian Zing sauce. It's becoming dangerously close to Chicken Intervention over here.
• Switching back to Old Twitter after being trapped in the vortex of New Twitter
• Being done with some hardcore, start of the term teaching.

Work it on out...



Are you loving anything?