You can't stand the way your hair looks. It's bugging you because it's too long, it's in your eyes, it won't lay smooth or it's too flat, so you make the hair appointment and you're determined to just get it all chopped off. Major change. (When I am in this predicament, I buy a People magazine. I want to look at all the stars and see what kinds of hairstyles they have. I'm partial to Reese Witherspoon--if I was a man, I would have a serious crush on her. As it is, I love her hair and even though I realize she has stylists and probably extensions and a hundred other types of hair-helpers, at least I can get some ideas from her.) Now, you've picked out your favorite star's hairstyle and it's a drastic departure from what you usually get done at the salon, but you're psyching yourself up for this. (You've even gone so far as to tear the picture out of the People magazine so you can show your hairdresser exactly what you want.)
So, you wake up that morning, get your shower and start to fix your annoying, no-style, soon-to-be chopped-off mess of a head of hair and lo and behold...IT LOOKS THE BEST IT HAS IN MONTHS. It curls perfectly in the exact way that takes years off your face, with just enough fluffiness and it gives you a bit of a Reese-esque quality that not everyone would necessarily see, but certainly the people who care most about you would. So, later that day, when you go to the salon with your picture of Reese Witherspoon in your pocket and a whole bunch of doubt, when the hairdresser asks what you want done, you say..."Same as last time." After all, apparently, this cut is the one!
Or, (thanks to Mary Kathryn for this one), your car is making a sound. You just know it's the brakes or the rotors or something that's going to blow up, so you make the appointment to take it to the garage and of course, on the way there, NO SOUND NOW! The baby has a hacking cough, green snot and a high fever. The doctor can see him at 2:00 p.m. At 1:30, THE COUGH IS GONE, THE SNOT IS CLEAR, TEMPERATURE IS 98.6!
Well, Kevin snores. Especially when he's sleeping on his back or in the chair with his neck bent at a 90 degree angle. As a result of the ridiculous nighttimes in our house, I have banished Kevin to the couch because I can't get any sleep at all when he's snoring in my ear. Well, he made an appointment for Thursday night to have a Sleep Study done. Not just because he snores, but also because he is always tired. He just doesn't get good, sound nights of sleep. Wednesday night, Ben was up and miserable and I thought we might have to put him in our bed. I woke Kevin up and had him move to our bed in anticipation of moving Ben in there to sleep between us. I ended up not moving Ben, and, guess what...KEVIN DID NOT SNORE! It was the quietest he's been in months, years really.
What's the deal with these occurrences? Do you ever feel like you're in that movie, The Truman Show, where Jim Carrey's existence is a tv reality show only he doesn't know it and everyone is watching all of the ridiculous predicaments in his life for entertainment? Is this The Jennifer Show? If a stage light falls from the sky today, I'm going to be seriously suspicious!
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Are these things true?
I started back to school yesterday and everything has gone relatively smoothly despite the fact that Ben doesn't sleep and I am awake half the night. Teachers report to work at 7:15 a.m. at my school which is pretty darn early when you have nights like we do. Ben was awake 5 times last night. Nothing seemed wrong--he just really wants to cuddle. I love him, but I am sick of the affection-calls all night long. Ben, see me for some serious cuddle time after sun-up.
I have been showing my students pictures of Ben and telling them about him so they can understand why I was home all year. All of the kids want to tell me stories about their baby brothers or sisters or stories about when they, themselves were babies. I'm not sure if some of these tales are true or not. What do you think?
When I was born...
I had hair down to here (motion to shoulders) but the doctor cut it; I had 10 teeth and my dad stuck his finger in my mouth and I bit it; I could talk; my mom said she wanted a girl but I was a boy and my dad said, "Stick him back in"; I came out of my mom's mouth...another kid goes, "Nu-uh, that's not where babies come out"...first kid goes, "Mrs. C, where do babies come out?"...I say, "Next question!"
When I was a baby...
I ate paper; I swallowed dirt; I stuck my head in the toilet and drank the water; I always cried when my dad held me because I was afraid he was going to kill me; I swallowed a cigarette.
I don't know, some of them seem a bit farfetched. Tiny bit unbelievable. I've still been thinking about the cigarette-swallowing one though and I'm pretty sure she was telling the truth. I've been gagging so much about that one.
The kids have been so sweet...lots of hugs, drawings, hand-made cards, and "I missed yous". That really does make it a lot easier to leave my boys. And, of course, we are so lucky to have an angel babysitting them every day. That makes it easier too. Thanks, Mom...we all love you so much and we can't thank you enough for taking care of us!
I have been showing my students pictures of Ben and telling them about him so they can understand why I was home all year. All of the kids want to tell me stories about their baby brothers or sisters or stories about when they, themselves were babies. I'm not sure if some of these tales are true or not. What do you think?
When I was born...
I had hair down to here (motion to shoulders) but the doctor cut it; I had 10 teeth and my dad stuck his finger in my mouth and I bit it; I could talk; my mom said she wanted a girl but I was a boy and my dad said, "Stick him back in"; I came out of my mom's mouth...another kid goes, "Nu-uh, that's not where babies come out"...first kid goes, "Mrs. C, where do babies come out?"...I say, "Next question!"
When I was a baby...
I ate paper; I swallowed dirt; I stuck my head in the toilet and drank the water; I always cried when my dad held me because I was afraid he was going to kill me; I swallowed a cigarette.
I don't know, some of them seem a bit farfetched. Tiny bit unbelievable. I've still been thinking about the cigarette-swallowing one though and I'm pretty sure she was telling the truth. I've been gagging so much about that one.
The kids have been so sweet...lots of hugs, drawings, hand-made cards, and "I missed yous". That really does make it a lot easier to leave my boys. And, of course, we are so lucky to have an angel babysitting them every day. That makes it easier too. Thanks, Mom...we all love you so much and we can't thank you enough for taking care of us!
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Am I nagging Kevin?
Things about my husband I don't understand:
1. Why do you fall asleep in the chair every night instead of going to bed? Wouldn't it be easier in the long run to just move over to the couch and lie down? Yes, I said couch. I have forced him to sleep on the couch because I can't get any rest between Danny's nighttime visits, Ben's frequent cries and Kevin's early-morning wake-up time. Falling asleep in the chair leads to a bent neck and loud(er) snoring which I then have to get out of bed to deal with. This usually occurs one hour before Ben's first cry which is followed up by Danny out of bed.
2. Why don't you close cabinets that you open? I have almost cracked my head on several wide-open cabinet doors in my 3 a.m. stumblings to get to the baby bottle cabinet. This leads to my point that we have discussed from time to time: we don't put anything away or back the way it was before it was used, ending up in a trashed house where it is impossible to find basic necessities like chocolate.
3. Why don't you put a fresh roll of toilet paper on the little holder? Is it better somehow to put the fresh roll on the sink, leaving the sad remains of the previous roll still on the holder?
4. How do you sleep through loud noises, kids pulling on you, the dog whining to go out and me giving you dirty looks and cussing youout loud under my breath? Are you really sleeping or are you trying to avoid dealing with the boys? Wait, that Cheetos incident occurred after the kids were in bed...I guess you really are sleeping.
5. Why do you ask for such ridiculous condiments? No, you didn't read that wrong--I said condiments. I mean, come on...if it's not relish, it's cream cheese or honey-mustard. Can't you be happy with ketchup and plain mustard? Can't you have butter on your bagel? Must you ask for cream cheese when you know I can't even keep our milk and eggs supply on track, let alone stocking our fridge/cabinets with luxury items like cream cheese or tartar sauce?
6. And, the most important and most bewildering question of all: how in the world do you put up with me?
1. Why do you fall asleep in the chair every night instead of going to bed? Wouldn't it be easier in the long run to just move over to the couch and lie down? Yes, I said couch. I have forced him to sleep on the couch because I can't get any rest between Danny's nighttime visits, Ben's frequent cries and Kevin's early-morning wake-up time. Falling asleep in the chair leads to a bent neck and loud(er) snoring which I then have to get out of bed to deal with. This usually occurs one hour before Ben's first cry which is followed up by Danny out of bed.
2. Why don't you close cabinets that you open? I have almost cracked my head on several wide-open cabinet doors in my 3 a.m. stumblings to get to the baby bottle cabinet. This leads to my point that we have discussed from time to time: we don't put anything away or back the way it was before it was used, ending up in a trashed house where it is impossible to find basic necessities like chocolate.
3. Why don't you put a fresh roll of toilet paper on the little holder? Is it better somehow to put the fresh roll on the sink, leaving the sad remains of the previous roll still on the holder?
4. How do you sleep through loud noises, kids pulling on you, the dog whining to go out and me giving you dirty looks and cussing you
5. Why do you ask for such ridiculous condiments? No, you didn't read that wrong--I said condiments. I mean, come on...if it's not relish, it's cream cheese or honey-mustard. Can't you be happy with ketchup and plain mustard? Can't you have butter on your bagel? Must you ask for cream cheese when you know I can't even keep our milk and eggs supply on track, let alone stocking our fridge/cabinets with luxury items like cream cheese or tartar sauce?
6. And, the most important and most bewildering question of all: how in the world do you put up with me?
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Isn't Ben adorable?
First haircut!
Before--bangs in eyes, wings on sides, tail in back, being mistaken for a girl:
During--not happy, doesn't like spray bottle or comb, definitely doesn't like being restrained:
After--looking sharp:
I know you're not supposed to say this about your own kids, but isn't Ben adorable? Daddy's cute too!
Before--bangs in eyes, wings on sides, tail in back, being mistaken for a girl:
During--not happy, doesn't like spray bottle or comb, definitely doesn't like being restrained:
After--looking sharp:
I know you're not supposed to say this about your own kids, but isn't Ben adorable? Daddy's cute too!
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Am I turning into a man?
I found a hair in my chin today that was, frankly, embarassing. I mean, honestly, am I turning into a man? The wild hairs started appearing when I was pregnant with Danny and of course, I assumed they were the result of hormone surges and the fact that I was pregnant with a manchild. But, here I am two babies later, definitely not pregnant, yet still apparently overloaded with testosterone.
I discovered the hair as I sat in Danny's art class today. Just sitting there, minding my own business, resting my chin on my hand, when the coarse little fella poked me in the finger. Not knowing exactly how obvious it was, what color it might be or how long it was, I tried discreetly to pull it out, but I couldn't get a good grip on it. So, then I worried the rest of the class that all the other mothers could see it and would go home to tell their husbands about the mommy at class who is growing whiskers.
This didn't distract me too much though, from noticing that a few of the mothers there in class talked in full voice to each other the entire hour. It made me feel bad for the teacher. Please, moms, I know we don't get out much and every opportunity for social interaction is valued, but man, you gotta at least whisper. I've been there in my life, with adults in my classroom talking out loud or cutting paper, stapling or typing (I know typing is a stretch, but it can be really annoying when trying to create a beautifully, quiet 2nd grade musical experience). Poor teacher today, poor kids who were trying to listen to teacher, poor me with a beard and a chip on my shoulder.
Well, I still feel like a girl despite the goatee and occasional moustache hair (I've found those too), just a considerably older girl than I probably should. Last week I found my first gray hair and that really kind of broke my heart. But at least it wasn't in my chin.
I discovered the hair as I sat in Danny's art class today. Just sitting there, minding my own business, resting my chin on my hand, when the coarse little fella poked me in the finger. Not knowing exactly how obvious it was, what color it might be or how long it was, I tried discreetly to pull it out, but I couldn't get a good grip on it. So, then I worried the rest of the class that all the other mothers could see it and would go home to tell their husbands about the mommy at class who is growing whiskers.
This didn't distract me too much though, from noticing that a few of the mothers there in class talked in full voice to each other the entire hour. It made me feel bad for the teacher. Please, moms, I know we don't get out much and every opportunity for social interaction is valued, but man, you gotta at least whisper. I've been there in my life, with adults in my classroom talking out loud or cutting paper, stapling or typing (I know typing is a stretch, but it can be really annoying when trying to create a beautifully, quiet 2nd grade musical experience). Poor teacher today, poor kids who were trying to listen to teacher, poor me with a beard and a chip on my shoulder.
Well, I still feel like a girl despite the goatee and occasional moustache hair (I've found those too), just a considerably older girl than I probably should. Last week I found my first gray hair and that really kind of broke my heart. But at least it wasn't in my chin.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Advertising Campaign?
Dear Frito Lay,
I have a new idea for your advertising department. I'm thinking this could be a good print ad, probably not a commercial:
"NO MATTER HOW TIRED YOU ARE, YOU CAN'T STOP EATING CHEETOS!"
Sincerely,
The Boys and Me
I have a new idea for your advertising department. I'm thinking this could be a good print ad, probably not a commercial:
"NO MATTER HOW TIRED YOU ARE, YOU CAN'T STOP EATING CHEETOS!"
Sincerely,
The Boys and Me
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Terrible twos? I think not!
Before I had children, I would see poor, exhausted, stressed, anxious, bewildered parents in stores, restaurants or church and I would think...(wait for it)..."that will NEVER be me." After all, I have two education degrees and 10 years of experience dealing with children. I KNOW children...they like consistency, they thrive on routines, they will be perfect darlings if treated correctly with the right amount of consequences, rewards for appropriate behavior and positive discipline. DUH!
We had it good for a while. People, even strangers, would stop me to tell me how well-behaved a little boy Danny was. "He's so quiet," they would say. "He's so happy and content to sit in church coloring in his little book." Yes, yes...I know, he's an angel. "My son would never have behaved so well." But, of course...I am the best mother in the world.
Somewhere between Ben being born, Danny turning 3 and today's post, things have gone inexplicably haywire. After the fight over my shoe choice (an adorable hand-me-down set of loafers) for Danny today, and a brief stay in time-out, we blew into the "cry room" at church 15 minutes late, whereupon Dan kicked off the much-maligned shoes and demanded raisins at top voice. He made it through most of the Mass pretty well, but toward the end, refused to put said shoes back on and then pushed his brother down causing a brief crying spell (Kevin and I were crying, not Ben).
I have heard a lot of my mommy friends say that their children were much harder to handle when they turned 3 as opposed to 2. I have a theory about the "terrible twos" thing. I think people tell you about the "terrible twos" in an attempt to give you one whole year to prepare for the really tricky "threes". I appreciate that and all, but please, people...give me the straight scoop on these littleheathens darlings.
And, what about all of my educational theories, my study of behavior strategies, my 10 years of experience? I do think they help a wee bit. But, the harder questions...is it possible (gasp) that this is somehow my fault and I'm ruining my kids for life? Are they going to grow up laughing in the face of authority? How can I stop myself from imagining them in orange jumpsuits?
I'm just chalking my boys' personalities up to them being spirited and goal-oriented. Yeah, let me practice this for when you see me at Target, or Cheddar's or St. Mary's Church, looking bewildered and anxious..."My boys are strong-willed and loud and completely precocious, but I'm loving every minute of it!"
We had it good for a while. People, even strangers, would stop me to tell me how well-behaved a little boy Danny was. "He's so quiet," they would say. "He's so happy and content to sit in church coloring in his little book." Yes, yes...I know, he's an angel. "My son would never have behaved so well." But, of course...I am the best mother in the world.
Somewhere between Ben being born, Danny turning 3 and today's post, things have gone inexplicably haywire. After the fight over my shoe choice (an adorable hand-me-down set of loafers) for Danny today, and a brief stay in time-out, we blew into the "cry room" at church 15 minutes late, whereupon Dan kicked off the much-maligned shoes and demanded raisins at top voice. He made it through most of the Mass pretty well, but toward the end, refused to put said shoes back on and then pushed his brother down causing a brief crying spell (Kevin and I were crying, not Ben).
I have heard a lot of my mommy friends say that their children were much harder to handle when they turned 3 as opposed to 2. I have a theory about the "terrible twos" thing. I think people tell you about the "terrible twos" in an attempt to give you one whole year to prepare for the really tricky "threes". I appreciate that and all, but please, people...give me the straight scoop on these little
And, what about all of my educational theories, my study of behavior strategies, my 10 years of experience? I do think they help a wee bit. But, the harder questions...is it possible (gasp) that this is somehow my fault and I'm ruining my kids for life? Are they going to grow up laughing in the face of authority? How can I stop myself from imagining them in orange jumpsuits?
I'm just chalking my boys' personalities up to them being spirited and goal-oriented. Yeah, let me practice this for when you see me at Target, or Cheddar's or St. Mary's Church, looking bewildered and anxious..."My boys are strong-willed and loud and completely precocious, but I'm loving every minute of it!"
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