I'll take me one of them

So T travels a crapton and usually works 70 hour weeks. And while his schedule is no joke, he always plans to take about two weeks off around the holidays. I'm mostly still at work and the kids are mostly at daycare, so this is his time to really nap and watch movies and pretty much exist in a hassle-free zone. He no kidding talks about it all year. 

But given all of his napping and smooshing down of our couch (have you ever seen the episode of "The Simpsons" where Flanders is spray-starching his wife's outline in their bed? Our couch is like that but with T's outline in our couch cushions...), T has been ...

hold that thought...

T just called from my parking garage here at work because earlier I called him to say that my tire was kind of flat and would he please bring his compressor-thing and poof up my tire?

His response:

"Sure. Fine. I'll be there. BUT YOU'RE CUTTING INTO MY NAP, WOMAN. NOT A GOOD THING."

Haaaaaa.

Like I was saying, T has been bringing it at home. Folks, it is like having a stay-at-home husband who still gets paid a lot from his job that he is not going to! It is fabulous!

He has taken menu requests for dinner (spaghetti and meatballs from Ezra) and had dinner ready when we walk in. He's been loading and unloading the dishwasher. Vacuuming. Getting Iris' meals all portioned out and made for the next school day. Getting both kids dressed in the morning while I rush around. One night he made me eggs and toast and sausage when I was hungry and tired after the kids went to bed. Ezra had an accident in his car seat on the way home this week (long commute due to a snowstorm + too much water after playing in the gym) so after I washed the car seat cover, T wrangled it back on the seat AND put the seat in my car AND put my car in the garage since it was snowing. He has snowblowed our driveway and sidewalks and shoveled our neighbor lady's front walk. 

It's. Been. Awesome.

Jokingly I asked him the other night, "Is this is what it's like to be married to me?!" His response was "yes, but with less sex." HAR HAR HAR, funny man.

At any rate, the help--even better, the easy, unsolicited willingness to help--is something I value so much. It's great.

Christmas Eve

Over the course of the holiday weekend, I decided that we probably would need to get the kids out of house that Monday of Christmas Eve because they'd be nuts after that many days at home with PRESSSSENTTTSSSS! looming. Yeah, I was right. Ezra woke up a complete spaz. Iris needed to move. 

The plan was to get to the botanical gardens right away in the morning to beat the crowds (this is for T's sake--he gets cagey and ragey with crowds) and then promptly wear their cans out.

It worked and I am still patting myself on the back over it. Best plan EVER. They ran. We looked at Christmas trees from around the world. They stared and tracked down the trains. We walked path after path after path in the big Tropical Room. There were sculptures to look at. It all worked like a charm.

That outstretched paw is frozen after I told
him to "look with his EYES!"

Lover of trains

Pounding the streets

Iris was DETERMINED to find the birds.

My sweet boy

Iris likes to keep it limber.

Holiday preparations

This weekend was full of last minute shopping for teachers and Ezra asking to see Santa a second time and driving to see Christmas lights and shopping for food and lounging in jammies.

It was lovely.

Escalator handle rails and carousol bars
basically give me the heebie-jebbies.

Waiting to see Santa a second time on 
Saturday morning at the mall.

"Oh, hey. Let me rearrange and knock over
your display for you."

"Mama, we blew a tire! Let me out!"

These kids love some Christmas lights.

Pretty much.

Theological studies plus chocolatey windows

As we've been opening the doors of our Advent calendar and reading the story of Baby Jesus each day, it has led to some "astute" observations from the small fries.

(T reading)
"And the shepherds, using the light of the star, set out looking for..."

Iris:
"POOH!"



(Me reading)
"And King Herod sent the wise men to Jerusalem to look for Baby Jesus..."

Ezra: 
"You know, King Herod doesn't make very good choices. Baby Jesus is cute and you're supposed to be nice to babies. All babies. ESPECIALLY Baby Jesus."



So there you have it.

With my mind on my money

Things I have a hard time spending money on:

1. Cardigans
2. Concert tickets
3. Alcohol
4. Tires
5. Bottled water
6. Shoes

Things I would spend gold buillon on:

1. Queso
2. Manicures
3. Cute shirts with kitties on them for Iris
4. Mochas from Starbucks
5. My ability to watch Bravo the crazycake Housewives whenever I so desire
6. Tasty treats

You?

Random useless tidbits

Time and time again I feel like a crap guest and completely unrelaxed and wound tight and exhausted whenever we--the children and I--go to someone's house for lunch or dinner or even just a visit. 

Maybe it's because at four and a half Ezra is very high energy and not everyone can, um, appreciate this energy. Maybe it's because I'm determined to have children who behave well. Maybe it's because I want us to be invited back. Or maybe it's because I don't want to be the asshole who was invited over and then left the hostess hoping we'd just leave. 

I don't know. With the exception of a few individuals, it mostly makes me tired and stressed out. 

****

While promoted by many, it has been revealed to me that I am too lazy for Ebates. I went and signed up and even put a post-it note as a reminder on my computer ("Ebates!"). It's all been a big fail and I just need to accept this.

****

In more useful notes, I did post this up next to my computer at work and I snicker every time I see it. 

Poor Carl.

HAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

via Francis Lam on Twitter

****

Cinnamon bears: I can't quit them.

****

At a follow-up appointment (mostly just a weight check) at the intensive feeding clinic last week, we were given the go ahead to drop the 7:00am meal time and just spread that meal's volume out among the remaining four meals. Since everything about Iris' intake is fairly regimented--the amount she eats and drinks, the consistency it is served as, when she eats--T and I wanted to have mostly the thumbs up to do this.

Folks, not having her eat at 7:00am is sweet, sweet freedom. We have so much more time in the morning before leaving for school and our exit out of the house is simpler and faster. This past Saturday morning after waking up, we didn't have to head downstairs and instantly station ourselves at the table. We languished upstairs instead. When I pack up her food for school, it's one less tupperware container to measure out. It all basically means more independence and wiggle room. 

And while the feeding clinic's concern was that perhaps she might not be able to handle the increased volume at the remaining four meals (which would exhibit itself as coughs from a tiring swallowing reflex or gags because of a too full tummy), we've seen none of that. 

Yay for food and freedom!

****

So maybe I'll tell you what I bought the kids for Christmas. 

I wanted to keep it mellow because their attention span is fleeting and they have a ridiculous playroom full of toys. So while, yes, there are a crapton of things that they'd each want, I wanted to make sure that what they DID get were things they've asked for, would have some longetivity in the playroom and would also interest the other sibling once the original recipient tired of it. 

Ezra
Goggles: his class takes swimming lessons each week at school and he's been asking for some goggles or a swim mask.
Binoculars: he played with these at a friend's house and LOVED them.
Walkie-talkies: yeah so T is pretty damned excited about these.
A box set of Where's Waldo books: he ADORES Waldo and reads the one he has and others from the library over and over again.

Ezra stocking
Super hero books
Super hero action figures he doesn't currently own
Mr. Sketch scented markers: I have big plans to be sniffing these bad boys come Christmas morning

Iris
Melissa and Doug mail box: I've wanted to buy this FOREVER.
Melissa and Doug beads and stringing set: good for the ol' fine motor skills
Doctor DeSoto in hardcover: one of the best William Steig books of all time
Monkey balance board: good for the gross motor skills and for burning energy

Iris stocking
Little People who are not white
Dog book
Bath toys
Tools for Play-Doh

Christmas Eve for both
New holiday jammies
Absolutely amazing stuffed animals--a pants wearing bear for Ezra and a sweater wearing kitty for Iris--made by Erin. You guys, I love Erin but I can't even really say enough good things about her skill with sewing. She is amazing.

****



What are your random bits?

Cream cheese frosting tastes mighty fine

On Sunday we did our annual "gingerbread" house decorating.

Now, listen: we don't use actual gingerbread. Criminy--we didn't even crack open the box of graham crackers I bought. We are strictly Decorators. I'm not poser enough to say I built the house we live in back in 1923; I only decorated it. These houses for the kids are the same way.

But! There were eight different kinds of candy (Ezra preferred gummy Life Savers; Iris seemed to prefer the gummy bears; I love a spice drop--red only) and cream cheese frosting.

I'm calling it a success.

It's kind of like an anaconda lives on the roof.

Tenement chic.

Peeves: the food edition

1. Cold french fries
2. When milk is warmed up and it gets that weird "skin" on top. Ew.
3. Green peppers
4. When cheddar cheese is melted and it turns kind of "sweaty." Ew 2.0.
5. How mangos smell like feet
6. Dried fruit, all sorts
7. Wet cat food
8. How easily banged up bananas get. Grow a pair, bananas. Damn.
9. That cooking bacon necessitates wearing pants. Splattering grease is no bueno.
10. When dill pickles have tails. Like so:

Love/hate Tuesday

Love: T took me out for a fancy birthday dinner and I was able to wear my poofy tulle skirt. I wore it with a light green beaded cardigan that I have, but I think I can bust this bad boy out in spring/summer too. I have visions of it with a light pink fitted tee and a cute gold belt and gold bracelets. Ole.

Hate: I kind of ate a lot at said fancy dinner and maybe the waistline to the skirt got a bit pinchy. 

Love: All hail Amazon Prime and my ability to make lists and ship the whatnot to my home while eating lunch at work. My Christmas shopping--including the stocking stuffers--is 90% done.

Hate: I have also bought things for myself too. Good sales are a sonofabitch.

Love: I'm not sure I mentioned it here, but one of Iris' fellow feeding clinic partners is now a friend at daycare. I talked up the center to the parents who were thinking of a change for their four year old and, after some waiting list time, their son, T, is now one of Iris' classmates. And after being indoctrinated to Iris' feeding whatnot, the classroom teachers are able to meet T's mealtime needs without issue.

I know I've raved about them before, but I really don't know what T and I did to deserve such a wonderful center. It is run wonderfully. The lead teachers and part-time teachers and even the substitutes are great. There are family dinners and Christmas programs and help for families who need it. Ezra's preschool is wonderfully diverse--children who are adopted; one who has cystic fibrosis; two who speak Punjabi. 

The center is by no means perfect, but, man alive, it is a blessing.

Hate: T has been a traveling MACHINE since November and he's gone again. Poo.

Love: New pajamas.

Hate: Forgetting which ones grip the flannel sheets

Love: Opportunity

Hate: Disappointment

Love: I am a fickle pickle and upon turning 37 promptly got microdermabrasion. I freaking loved it and can see it being something ridiculous I spend money on now. Listen, if I'm going to have big hips--I at least want to have baby skin.

Hate: Getting older totally calls for strategery. My main plan of attack is this: make sure I'm not too thin (not that this has been much a concern thus far) in order to poof out my face wrinkles. Wear a bunch of flowy and comfy Eileen Fisher garb. Use more swear words.

Love: These pictures of the small fries from the library this weekend.

Should anyone give you any hassle today

Feel free to bust this out.

(Please to ignore my crazy giggle.)

Questions answered

Okay, so I didn't really mean to scar you all with that list of things that have shaved years off my life. Really. Nor did I expect it to raise so many questions, but here you go:

• So I TOTALLY flipped my gourd when I saw the bat hanging over T's head. T had been home for almost four hours at that point and I have reason to believe--based on some weirdo scratching I heard the night before--that the bat was in the house the entire time. Anyway, we have 12 foot ceilings, so it was kind of high up BUT STILL! ABOVE HIS MELON THERE WAS A BAT! Since our house is old we have lots of random doors, so after screaming like a little girl and doing the Scooby Shuffle, I slammed the living room door, and then slammed our two kitchen doors closed. T was, "What the hell do I do NOW?!" as I screamed, "Take care of it take care of take care of it!" and chucked him a broom. He smacked the bejesus out of the bat (think: Jackie Robinson), dented our plaster walls, scooped up the poor dead bat and put it in the trash. 
• I DID get the wallet back! In the case of it flying off the roof of the car and scaring the pants off the other driver, she stopped and I stopped. I ran out and grabbed it and we were on our way. I'm not entirely sure what my wallet/pocketbook is made of, but everything was still inside.
• In the case where the guy snatched my purse out of my hand and I chased him, I totally got that bag back too. I chased him around three blocks before he ran into a building. Because I was also screaming, "STOP HIM! HE HAS MY PURSE!" (typing this is like an out of body experience because I still can't even believe I ran after him...), another guy started chasing him too. So, yeah, Crackhead Stealer Man (he really was a crackhead) ran into an apartment building and the police ran in right after him. I shuffled back to work and sat in my office and then about 15 minutes later the police came to my work with my bag and everything in it in hand. Crackhead Stealer Man and his Prostitute Girlfriend (she really was a prostitute) had grabbed it looking for cash. Since I never have any cash on me, they chucked it down the garbage shoot of the apartment building. It was...a little manky, but I wiped everything down with a Chlorox wipe and considered it good to go. They both ended up being sent to the clink. 
• Okay, so with the bath tub thing, I seriously almost needed a clean pair of underpants. Again, old house with super heavy cherry wood doors. I know this because I, um, flung myself against it (???) thinking I could break it down (???). I then did lots of handflapping and almost calling of my dad and/or 911, but eventually talked to Ezra through the door and got him to turn the lock the right way so that I could open the door. 

The End.

My sons

Yesterday was a hard day on the heart.

While getting Ezra dressed in the morning, he turned to me and said, "I'm not beautiful."

My eyes gaped and my heart felt like when glass shatters in movies and all you hear are the crystals exploding and falling slowly to the ground. While they fell, I thought:

SHUT UP WHO SAID THAT TO YOU! DID SOMEONE SAY TO YOU? I WILL FREAKING KICK THEIR ASS AND TALK TO THE TEACHER. MY SON, YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL. YOUR FACE IS WONDROUS TO ME. OH MY GOODNESS I WOULD DO ANYTHING TO TAKE THIS DOUBT FROM YOU.

But instead I said, "Come with me." and marched him into the bathroom and had him climb up onto the toilet so that he could see himself in the mirror.

"Tell me what you see," I asked him.

"Ezra Daniel."

"I see him too; I see my sweetie. And I also see beautiful brown hair and cute brown cheeks and beautiful brown eyes. You have are the perfect mixture of brown between Papa and I."

"But I want skin like yours!"

"Why?"

"Because."

"Did someone say something to you at school?"

"Nooooo."

"Okay, here's the thing: my skin isn't the same color as anyone else's. Your skin isn't the same color as Iris'. God gave everyone their own color. You are SPECIAL. Oh! And you know what else? Do you know who else has brown skin? The PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES! His papa was from Africa like your Papa and his mom is kinda peachy colored like me. Do you want to see his face?"

"Yes!"

So heavens alive I pulled up Barack Obama on my phone and played a YouTube clip of him speaking and Ezra said, "He's brown like me!" and I gave him kisses and tickled him until he tooted and then we went about our morning and trying to get out of the house on time.

I kind of squished the heart-hurtiness of all that nonsense until I received a hell of a zinger from the Workplace Motormouth (remember her? she's a gem!) later in the afternoon.

In the course of talking--talking used loosely as it is she who mostly talks--about her grandsons, she busts outs with, "...sorry you lost your baby, but two boys close together in age can REALLY be a handful!"

Honestly, in the moment, I barely flinched. Later, after it washed over me and I vented to kind souls on Twitter and ate some french fries for lunch, I cried in my office.

What a completely callous and shitty and heartless thing to say. 

Do I think it came from a place of trying to wound and hurt? Not at all. Do I think she should watch what comes out of her mouth? Yes. Will I be avoiding her from now on? Yes. Just like I'd avoid a porcupine on a trail.

I thought I would want to smoosh down the sad things, the hurtful things from yesterday; to not write about them. But sometimes just getting it out feels better. And it does.