Category Archives: Motherhood

When You’re Bored….

“When you’re bored, give me a call back,” my sister said to me last night when I told her I couldn’t talk. She called around 6:45pm, I was trying to wrap up dinner for DD1, a feeding for DD2, wondering where the hell DH was, and my mind was drifting towards the two bath times and bed times I wanted to wrap up by 8:30.

Her words really struck me. “When you’re bored..”

Bored.

When was the last time I was bored? More importantly, when in the hell will I find myself bored again?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I was probably plenty bored the last time I was at work, toiling away behind my desk, but setting aside painful meetings and generally lame time spent at work – when was the last time I was bored? When was the last time you were bored? Can’t remember? Didn’t think so.

So while I faked like I was giving full attention to dinner, I began to wonder, when will I be bored again? 10 years from now? hell no…both girls will be teens….I’m sure I’ll be plenty of things, but not bored.

15 years from now?

Maybe.

But how old will I be then?

And can my sister wait 15 years for me to call her back?

HA.

So here I am, kittens, finally back with you…I know you have missed moi as it’s been over two months…and certainly by now you know that I have a beautiful second red-headed daughter who is 8 weeks tomorrow. Time f’ing flies.

And we know we’re not bored (work time excluded).

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked if it’s twice as much work. With the first child, everyone seemed to want to know how she slept (crappy compared to this one), with the second, everyone wants to know if it’s twice as much work. Well, only those who don’t have two yet ask that question.

I really can’t answer that question because it seems too hard to quantify but I’ve given it loads of thought because lord knows I wondered as much before the 30th of November when DD2 was born.

We all know I think mobility and certainly talking are over-rated – so I reserve the right to weigh in that it is twice, if not four times, as much work down the road. For now, here are my thoughts – I think that there is like zero down time now. I used to think I didn’t really have down time but as it turns out, with one, you actually probably have more down time than you realize – it’s just relative because you have way LESS down time than you did sans enfants. Well, with two, you realize how much down time you had with just one because suddenly that down time is filled with other things – like changing more diapers or doing way  more laundry or nursing or wondering how you haven’t eaten lunch yet at 3pm (yet despite no time for lunch, you still look a few months preggo. Life is cruel).

But at the same time, I love it. I’m definitely not complaining but I am not ready to say it’s double the work yet – it’s just more work. And more fun.

I have way more to say – but this is my precious down time and I’ve got tons of other things to be doing – so more later, kittens. Until then, let’s all just be happy that Bush is finally gone and the beloved Obama family is now occupying 1600 PA Ave. I mean really – did that take long enough or what?

Oh – me and a KT BFF had our picture taken with Ben Affleck and he’s unbelievably hot in person. Holy shit…..and tall. A tall, dark, drink of water….way to go Jenny Garner is what I have to say to her…..

Meow.

Our New First Lady

I know I am not alone in being completely jazzed about watching Michelle Obama become our First Lady in January….and learning more about the issues that she will take up. She has already communicated her interest in the issues facing working moms/parents. That aside, I also know that I am not alone in getting completely wrapped up in Michelle the woman – what she is wearing – whether or not I like it, etc. For the record, LOVED the red dress she wore to the White House on Monday.

That said, I stumbled upon this piece in Salon and encourage you to read it – it is very interesting. On some things, I think the reporter is being very harsh but it’s what Barack himself writes in one of his books about the choices made by his wife and her struggling between balancing work and motherhood – and his role in that as her husband – that might have interested me the most. Give it a read.

And also kittens, Baby #2 could arrive any day now – so I realize I have been MIA and well – let’s be honest, I’m really going to redefine MIA for a while once she is born – so bear with me. You know I come back to you as soon as I can…..

http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2008/11/12/michelle_obama/index.html

Preggo v. Beast

I have a mortal enemy in my neighborhood. They say you get more emotional in the 9th month of your pregnancy – are they also including anger and hatred or just tears? Because I actually want to inflict violence upon my enemy. I’m not above water-boarding for this enemy. I might have even asked my husband if it was time to get a gun or at least start throwing rocks.

What has happened to me?

I will tell you – a SQUIRREL.

Though DD affectionately thinks they are chipmunks.

Though you might not think she’s so sweet when you hear her shouting at the door “Get away chipmunk, I’m going to get you! No one likes you. Mommy! Mommy! The chipmunk is back!”

My sister pointed out that I am teaching my three-year old to hate God’s creatures.

Perhaps.

But this one squirrel is my mortal enemy. I could pick him out of a line-up. In fact, I want the satisfaction of doing just that.

Justice will be mine before this fall ends. I promise you this. I am a preggo on a mission.

It started when he would dig out my flowers from my flower box in my front window. He is brazen. He has no regard for exterior fall decor. What could he possibly have wanted in my flower box? To dig his nuts?

Yeah well, find somewhere else for that buck-o. I’ll dig your nuts right out.

Over a working lunch one day, I was lamenting my face-off with this squirrel and how he was killing my beautiful fall mum display and, well, I wanted to kill him. Someone suggested I, instead, sprinkle hot pepper flakes in the dirt – the squirrels don’t like this and it’s a non-violent solution to a problem.

So I did it. But it didn’t really work and my mums were already dead. I failed at teaching my DD the non-violence approach in life.

But then, squirrel bastard kicked it up a few notches. Those of you who know and love my DD know that there is no bigger holiday in the calendar year than Halloween for her – and this is a gal who not only blends in with pumpkins in a patch but LOVES pumpkins.

So off we went to two different patches and she selected the most perfect pumpkin (or maybe I did.)

This pumpkin should have graced the cover of a Martha Stewart magazine. He was so perfectly round and had this tall dramatic stem that really made him distinguished. I searched long and hard for him and it was like the skies parted when I spotted him.

He was a distinguished pumpkin. My kid loves pumpkins so she was going to get the most perfect pumpkin on the eastern seaboard.

R.I.P. Distinguished Pumpkin because what did I come home too on Thursday evening?

An otherwise lovely fall evening in the DC burbs?

MY ENEMY was on my front step, staring me down, EATING MY DISTINGUISHED PUMPKIN.

Oh no kittens, not just a few teeth marks here and there – but he gnawed almost a full circle beneath the perfect stem and then ATE A HOLE through the middle of the perfectly round belly of my pumpkin.

He DESTROYED my pumpkin.

And was staring at me, on my front steps, as if to say “is that all you got lady? you couldn’t have done better?”

I was livid. First it was my mum flower box display but now this.

Why does he hate on Fall so much, this enemy of mine? And why can’t he go bother someone else’s flower boxes and pumpkins?

I immediately began looking around the lawn for the biggest rock I could find, wanting to hurl it at this enemy at mach 10 speed, with no regard for how my behavior might influence my DD. This squirrel had raised the stakes.

Unfortunately, we don’t have a zen rock garden in my front yard, so there was really no rocks to be found, so I did the next best thing, I covered the pumpkin in hot pepper and hot red pepper flakes. Like a mad woman, I dashed into the house, grabbed the spices and just started dumping them all over the pumpkin.

I was going to get him.

I was going to ruin that pumpkin before he thought he could enjoy any more of his early Thanksgiving feast. Maybe last Thursday was Canadian Thanksgiving. It probably was because the stupid squirrels actually originated in Canada. Seriously, those Canucks are ruining everything.

I left the storm door shut and tried to peacefully feed DD dinner but I was OBSESSED with trolling for this squirrel and witnessing him suffering from the misery of a mouth full of pepper. I wanted to see him roiling in pain, curled up, gasping for breath.

Not only did I NOT get that satisfaction but the damn thing LIKED the pepper and had eaten more of my pumpkin by the time I walked back to the door.

Has this squirrel been sent by the McCain campaign, in retaliation of my newly acquired Obama yard signs, I began to wonder?

Was negative squirrel attacks the new way to incite anger in the liberal Maryland suburbs of DC? Was I meant to start believing in the NRA?

Because I was getting close.

And teaching my kid how to shout like a regular old sailor, while I was at it.

So then I was left with no options, I had to bring the remaining two pumpkins inside and also bring in the eaten up beautiful pumpkin. I could not risk losing more pumpkins to my lurking enemy, nor could I dare leave the half-eaten pumpkin out front for the mice and squirrels to party all night long on, at my expense.

I ordered DH to immediately disregard said pumpkin in the trash – and while he followed these instructions, he failed to sweep the remaining few pumpkin seeds off my front steps.

So what awaited us on Friday morning when we opened the door?

The pumpkin seeds were all gone and there were SHIT PELLETS all over our front steps.

SERIOUSLY.

Did the squirrel crap on my steps in retaliation?

Is he always going to have a leg-up on me?

Can I really be living this?

I will admitt to some minor satisfaction when I noticed he ate through my neighbor’s three pumpkins because we had taken away the fall harvest from our front steps.

But what has this world come too when squirrels are ruining the lovely site of pumpkins on the front steps of every home in a suburb just days before Halloween?

I am an angry preggo and my work is not done with this squirrel. Oh no. I will not rest until I win.

Pajama Drama

As we are three years into this parenthood gig, DH and I have both internalized the reality that really nothing should surprise us. But frankly, I have to admitt, I now am headed into a two-year ordeal with pajamas and it can be confusing…and surprising at times.

I wonder if I am alone – surely there are others out there suffering from the great torture inflicted on them after a pleasant bath time when the…gasp…WRONG PJs are offered to the toddler?

Let’s go back in time.

Summer 2007 – I thought I was SO tricky and grabbed a bunch of one-piece fleece sleepers for DD when they were on deep discount at Nordstrom. I mean really – who doesn’t love the one-piece fleece sleepers? And with the way my kid eats breakfast and refuses to wear a bib, I swooped up like seven of them.

Come Fall 2007 and I quickly learned two things:

1. My child, in fact, is the grinch of one-piece fleece sleepers. She HATED THEM. Actually, more than anything, she was still in that obnoxious phase of hating being on her back, so getting her to lay back so we could get her into the sleeper was a task even black opps special forces just back from Iraq weren’t up for.

2. One-piece fleece sleepers are NOT helpful when potty training a child who gives you minus three seconds warning that they need to go pee pee.

SO, all the one-piece fleece sleepers got packed up and off I went, begrudgingly, to purchase many more TWO PIECE fleece PJs without the feet. I mean – why are kids PJs so freaking expensive? I don’t even spend $20+ on my own PJs.

So now fast forward to Summer 2008. Once again, I’m in the Carter’s outlet store and I think I am a freaking GENIUS. The two piece fleece PJs are on sale, I swoop up five pairs – each one a different color and theme – your garden variety dog, kitty, hippos, princess, etc. By now, not only do I think I’m so clever because I know not to waste my $$$ on one-piece sleepers but I’m also getting them on sale. I freaking rule.

Or so I think.

Enter cooler fall temperatures recently.

Guess what?

By now, I’m schooled enough with the toddler set to know that you must offer a choice – you want doggie or kitty cat PJs tonight? They need to be in control and the final decision maker. Or so they think.
But see – that’s not enough.

What I never expected was this –

ONLY DOGGIE WILL DO.

It’s like her eyes are burning when she is offered the cat, hippo or princess pjs. Note -the ONLY difference between these guilty PJs and the dog ones are this: color and theme – one small dog or one small cat.

But apparently this difference is really a sticking point. To her it’s like the difference between voting Obama or McCain. (Obama is obviously the dog here).

So – what happens when DOGGIE PJs are DIRTY?

Oh lord.

I bet some of you know.

The tantrum of the year happens, the kicking, the screaming, the sobbing, the begging, the drama..the pajama drama…..the others are cast aside, thrown to the floor in total disgust, DD is begging for doggie, as if we are torturing her. And at first, we are totally amused because this is so ridiculous..but after time passes, KT hears herself begging DH to make a run to Macys at lunch on Monday as his TOP priority of the day- in a desperate search for like 5 more pairs of the SAME doggie PJs.

DH suggests we just put her to bed in her diaper and let her see how that feels and then maybe she’ll change her ‘tude about poor old hippo tonight.

And once again, I am defeated.

I have lost the battle of the PJ’s.

Two years in a row.

So what will I do next year? 

I will probably buy several pair of PJs in ONE THEME – thereby limiting options. Maybe third time will be a charm.

I’ll let you know in 2009 how that strategy works out for me.  But I guarantee you this, when pregnant the first time, I never considered just how much time and strategic thinking I would put into PJs.