Notorious

I was chatting with a friend at work and she was relaying a crazy story from her evening. At bed time, her two year old had pooped on the bathroom floor, meanwhile her four year old had covered his arms with lotion and was busily running his arms under water. When questioned as to why, he answered "I'm locking in the moisture." My friend then continued "I was thinking Oh my God, have we turned into the Simpson house?!" She wasn't referring to the T.V. show. No surprise my family comes to mind during chaotic parenting moments. I used to think that the insanity would settle down as the girls got older. Nope, all that has changed is the type of mess and type of chaos.

Take Thursday night, I was busy baking for the staff bake off. It was a Chopped themed cook off with cereal as the secret ingredient. I made salted carmel rice crispy treats. As usual I went late into the night and as I was sweating in front of the pot of hot carmel sauce, I wondered why in the world I kept signing up for these things. I finally climbed into bed and after reading a couple of pages of Jane Eyre, I fell asleep. Rob, however, was still watching T.V. next to me. For some reason (he didn't even know why) he started drumming on my head in time to the music on the T.V. I woke up startled to ask him what in the hell he thought he was doing. He had no answer. Then he showed me the painful splinter in his finger. We both went to sleep.

At around 2 a.m., he flung the covers off of us and started thundering around the room complaining about his finger. I look at it and it was swollen and red. I suggested that he try to sleep. He was unable and therefore neither was I. The next morning, I woke up early to get my bars cut and to help Caroline get ready for her school's career day. Rob's finger was swollen to twice it's size with blisters and he was in a lot of pain. He decided try to relieve the pressure by puncturing the blister with a needle. I shouted at him to stop and go to the doctor.

He ended up going to the ER. It turned out that he'd been bitten by a poisonous spider. He came to see me after school (and got to see the first place trophy that I won for best tasting in the staff cook off). His finger looked horrible. He got prescriptions for an antibiotic and Percocet.

He went home to rest and was going to pick Lily up at girl scouts at 8:00. I stayed at work and was going to pick Caroline up at the movies at 8:00. Unfortunately, when he was home resting, Buffy broke her collar and got out of the yard. The poor guy chased her down the street. Finally, the little turkey stopped and sat like an obedient dog right at our neighbor's feet (further proving how crazy we are to our neighbors). We bought her a new collar on Saturday. It took her an hour to break that one.

The entire weekend hasn't been a bust. Caroline got to go see The Hunger Games, I won a trophy made out of breakfast cereal, and Caroline and I won tickets to an amusement park at my school's carnival.

What else would you expect from the Simpson's?

I Am Getting Old

Really I am. My baby is starting high school next year. Last week a lovely young lady interviewed to teach at our school. She is a former student of mine! I shared this with one of the newly retired teachers from my school. We started thinking and realized that she was the same age that I am now when I first started teaching there right out of college. I am embarrassed to admit that at the time I thought that she was so old. We have decided that old is a state of mind (shocking concept I know). Just like no one can correctly guess my weight, no one can correctly guess my age. Maybe I wear it well. Maybe it is that usually I don't really care. Who knows? My dad used to think that the more I joked about it, that meant that it really bothered me. He was the only family member who really didn't care for my self deprecating sense of humor.

I think that Lily and Caroline keep me young. Especially Caroline, we are so alike in so many ways. We are either pals or at each other's throats. I think that she uses so much energy being an amazing kid outside of this house, that by the time she gets home she is spent. That means she has no patience for her overly dramatic little sister, wise cracking dad, and list checking mother. Enough said on that subject. When she is calm, especially when Rob and Lily aren't around, we have such a good time. She has become my movie/T.V. buddy. There are some really good shows on this year: Grimm, New Girl, Awake... She has discovered punk and grunge rock. On the way to her district band competition, she was nervous and in her words "being a pain in the ass." I put on Nirvana to calm her down. I am sure the boyscout dad who stopped us to direct us through the parking lot thought that I was nuts. Only boring mothers use homemade cookies to soothe surly children.

More and more she is choosing her path. She is still an avid reader. She has also started writing more and more. She thinks that she might want to look into writing for T.V. She has big ideas now and even bigger opinions. She is more aware of current events. I am so excited for her. She has so many adventures ahead of her. Of course, I can't tell her this. Well, I have tried, but it wasn't well received. Why is it so hard to truly appreciate the stage of life that your are in at that very time? I know, you are trying too hard to just survive it. She is navigating social and academic pressure beautifully. She doesn't think so. All she can see is that her friends are going to different high schools or taking specialty classes. She has opted for AP classes for language arts and history. That is no walk in the park. All I can do is listen. That is so hard. Sometimes I need to excuse myself to go into the next room to whisper advice just so I don't say it out loud to her. Man, parenting a teenager is so much harder than parenting a two year old. It makes you old and young all at the same time.

Well Hello

Where have I been you ask? What's been going on? Well at least those of you who still check this dusty site are. This winter has been like every other winter and not at all the same. First of all there was no snow. I can't emphasize that enough. No snow! That's like Christmas with no presents. No exciting gift of a day to spend doing nothing, but just being, no calm stillness of falling snow. This winter did not seem calm or quiet at all. Consequently, I have had no rest or reflection. I have tried to grab it in snippets and bits but that hasn't helped at all. Especially when you are like me, the woman who can't say no, who can't stop offering to help. Currently, I have my school's PTA, Lily's school advisory council, superintendent's advisory council, dance class for Lily, drums for Caroline, scout leader for Caroline, scouts for Lily, teaching, and managing a house (sort of). What else is new.

What is new? Caroline rocked the timpani, triangle, and tambourine at district band. She can honestly play. That just amazes me and my tone deaf self. Lily was tested for the gifted and talented program and we discovered that: Lily has the test scores but does not have the products. In other words Lily is too busy being Lily and loving life to stop and try to impress us. I think that i am ok with having a child who loves life to it's fullest. Maybe I can make up a bumper sticker "My wise guy kid made your uptight honor student laugh." We have all been pretty healthy (there was no winter after all). I got hit with a beginning of spring sinus infection. I brought it on myself by pushing and ignoring how sick I was. It finally hit me the night that I dropped my engagement ring down the bathroom sink and called Rob in the middle of a business dinner crying hysterically. I took the next day off.

I've been reading as much as possible. I really enjoyed The Friendship Bread Club and Romancing Miss Bronte. I enjoyed the Miss Bronte book so much that I am revisiting Jane Eyre. I have been in a "Regency State of Mind" lately, drinking cup upon cup of Constant Comment tea and mucking about pulling the dead weeds out of my garden. Speaking of my garden (you know the "Miss Havisham" garden), maybe I'll read Great Expectations next.

My hand is completely healed, except for the fact that I can't put pressure on it. That means no plank pose and no down dog. That also means that I flop about in yoga like a fish out of water, adjusting and readjusting my hand.

I miss blogging. I just can't seem to get to it or the laundry or grading papers or any of the ten thousand other obligations that I have. I am in such a busy season of my life. I know that it will pass by so quickly, though. I'll have time to blog then, but what on earth will I talk about?

On and On

For so many reasons this has been a difficult week. I was talking with a co worker this week about working mothers. She was able to stay home when her children were younger and was expressing awe at how her grown daughter and I manage as working mothers. She said it seems like such a juggling act and just one little things throw off the whole balance. Oh if only she knew. No matter how hard I try, I feel more and more like an excellent manager and a not so excellent mother. I don't want to be a "dying swan," so I rarely tell people just how hard it is some days. I alternate between congratulating myself along the lines of "I am woman hear me roar!" and collapsing into bed at night wondering if I even stopped through the rush of the day to kiss my children.

This week: I worked, visited a friend that I hadn't seen in awhile, held parent conferences, planned and taught part of a literacy workshop for ESOL parents, chaperoned for Lily's field trip, took Caroline to drum lessons, made many meals and lunches, washed laundry, planned for next weeks lessons, graded some papers, baked and iced 48 pink cupcakes, hosted a teen scout jewelry making party, consoled my teenager about various teen type worries, bathed my youngest child three times, brushed the dog, fed the dog daily, fed the turtles daily, took Lily to dance class, and hosted Lily's seventh birthday party. All that and I am sitting here feeling bad because my grading isn't finished and I forgot to light the candle on Lily's cupcake and sing happy birthday. Oh yeah and add to that: I don't think that I ever stopped to enjoy the moments or have fun.

My friend posted an awesome article on Facebook this week that addresses this feeling. We don't really enjoy parenting until after the fact. Next year, maybe as soon as next month, I'll look back on this week and congratulate myself on having parented well. I'll even remember much of it as fun. It's just hard to appreciate it when you are in the throes of it all and that's okay. I am not less of a parent for hissing at my my child during her party "You will never have another birthday again if you don't stop this right now!" It was perfectly okay to think to myself "Why the hell am I doing this?" as I was dashing around drenched in sweat. It was also okay to be very pleased that I got so many compliments on my awesome party hosting skills. It was fine to think "Damn straight!" when other mom's wondered how I was able to do this while working.


PS Here's a link to the article: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/glennon-melton/dont-carpe-diem_b_1206346.html

Watching, Waiting

I think the thing that makes me feel the oldest is the fact that I am the mother of a teenager. I picked Caroline up from Skate Night an Friday and was surrounded by the sort of jackassery that only the combination raging hormones and tired parents in SUVs can create. As I stood in the freezing cold and looked for my sensible daughter I tried not to laugh at the teens around me. They were trying so hard to be cool and look like they didn't care whether or not they were cool. God, how exhausting that must be. Caroline finally came over and I quip "Let's go. I don't mind hanging out with my teenage smart ass, but I don't have to put up with other people's." Of course at that moment her boyfriend and friends come up to say hi. That's right, Melissa, keep it classy, be a role model.

Honestly, we have managed to get into a grove with the whole raising a teenager thing. She is a really good kid. She works her butt off in school and has the grades to show for it. She is involved in lots of activities and has really good friends (some of them I find wildly amusing). She has a razor sharp wit and the potty mouth to go with it (I'm working on that, but the pot really shouldn't be calling the kettle black, now should she?).

We joke that we need to get her a shirt that says Nerd Goddess. Seriously, this girl is every nerdy/geeky guy's dream. She is gorgeous. I'm not saying that just because she's mine. The thing is she is totally unaware of how pretty she is. She is very comfortable in her skin. Caroline loves music and books. She devours books like oxygen. Her room is filled with super hero posters. She is anxiously awaiting the films The Avengers and The Hunger Games. She can talk rock music, comic books, football, basketball, wrestling, and action films. What boy wouldn't want to hang out with her? I'm watching her turn into her own person. She isn't exactly who I thought she'd be. She's probably better; she's defiantly more well rounded. Now the next step is to watch and see how Lily turns out.

The Next Stage

Very shortly I will be turning 41. It is hard to believe because some days I still fell like such a kid. When I went in for a check up before my surgery the nurse asked the doctor if I needed an EKG because of my heart murmur. He looked quickly at my chart and replied "She's over 40; she'll need one no matter what." When did I enter that zone? What a surreal feeling. It reminded me of the first time someone called me Mrs. Simpson. I just giggled inside. "Who me? I'm too young to be married." I thought. This time I didn't giggle. I still feel too young,though. I still listen to college radio; I watch independent films. However, my joints also crackle like Rice Crispies when I get out of bed every morning. I guess the gig is up.

Getting old has creeped up on me. I know that I've written about my body looking like "a can of biscuit dough that has a broken seal." Yet, it still surprises me when I am getting ready in the morning and catch a glimpse of my body in the mirror. Let's just say nothing seems to be where it is supposed to be. Gravity stinks! Rob and I have been talking about putting money aside in a "cafeteria plan" in order to pay for the kids expenses (braces, inhalers etc). This morning it occurred to us that we really needed it for us. Every time we turn around we are being sent for one test or another.

I don't mind getting older, I have written time and time again about enjoying the freedom of this age. I know myself and feel comfortable with who I am. Every once in awhile it does smack me in the face a bit.

No Apologies

It seems like once a month I write a post apologizing for not posting more often. Well, this time no apologies. Life is just going at a break neck pace. It's been busy, but not unpleasantly so. I am in the thick of the "mom taxi years." There's dance and drums and scouts and swim. There's yoga for me and PTA and Advisory Councils. Life is full and I am trying to keep up. This past week has been wonderful because I've had no choice but to slow down. I had carpal tunnel surgery on my right hand the Friday before Christmas. Tonight is my full out typing test run. My fingers tingle but work. So far so good. We went at a steady clip before Christmas: parties and events almost every weekend, frantic cleaning and wrapping, and marathon baking. All that needed to be done was cook Christmas dinner and Rob handled that. We tried very hard to keep it simple this year and it worked out quiet well. The tree looked a little bare with fewer gifts, but no one seemed to suffer. Our newest member, Buffy, seemed to have the most fun. When I watched the video of the girls opening their gifts, you can see a frantic white terrier leaping in the background carrying her new toys from room to room.

Speaking of Buffy: first thing after my hand heals, that stinker is going to obedience school. She is almost 2 years old and carries on like she is 4 months old. She dug out from under the fence the night before my surgery and led Caroline and I on a wild goose chase through the neighborhood. We'd get a few feet away, she'd stop, play bow, and dash off. She manged to escape again on Christmas, this time cutting herself. Yesterday, the little fool dug so hard she broke a nail and then led Rob dashing after her in the mud around and around the yard. She finally willingly went over to our neighbor. Rob's response once we were in the house "Great Buffy, the neighbors already think that we are idiots! Now you made us look like jackasses too!"

OK, I guess everything isn't completely perfect. Perfect is boring anyway!