Not Calm (dot com)

Saving all my nickels

Last night I drove over to the nickel-a-play video game place to put a deposit down for Lex's birthday party.   I got a parking spot right in front, and from where I was I could see right in the front windows.  There was a guy, a pretty muscley, burley guy with a tiny infant in his arms.  He was dancing.  Really dancing, in the gettin down, bustin out the moves, possibly sweating way. 

How cute, I thought, that this really young dad is having such a funny and sweet moment with his baby. 

I went inside only to find that the boy behind the counter couldn't help me and could I wait for the manager to return?  Sure I could, so I sat and waited.  The dad saw me ogling his newborn and he held her up and said, "This is my daughter!"

"She is just beautiful," I said. 
"Yeah," said the dad, "she's our sixth kid, but the first girl."
I looked a little closer and noticed that he really wasn't all that young.
"Congratulations!  That's wonderful."

The family left soon, a tangle of boys jamming up the doorway. 

I sat and looked around at the video games and wished that I had my camera.  I'm all of a sudden totally looking forward to this party even though it would be more in line with my personality to dread it. 

But, listen, they have PacMan and Mrs. PacMan.  And everything is a nickel.  My girls won't be there, and all the kids invited are big enough to not need too much watching, so I'm going to have some fun.  And kick some blinking ghost ass.

I'm such a crybaby

I was cleaning up the kitchen a few minutes ago, and between the dryer and the wall I found an old toy mop that I bought for Lex when he was two.  It was broken and the sponge part was all mashed down -- it certainly wasn't usable anymore. 

I took it outside and threw it in the garbage and it made me so sad.  I need to learn to not get so attached to every little toy and piece of clothing that the kids leave behind as they grow, but I really struggle with it.  Now he's nearly ten, and on the weekends he's over at friends houses every chance he gets.  I love him as much as ever, but I miss the days when he was just a little guy who wanted to be like me and be with me.  I miss him helping me mop the kitchen.  I miss his little baby fat toddler hands.

Happy Birthday to Me

I had a draft going that was recapping my hospital stay, but it was boring so I deleted it.  The upshot is that I feel better, finally, and I'm fine and that's good, because I am suddenly busy like I never knew even when I was in college full time and had two jobs. 

Seriously.

Last night just Willow and I went to the farmer's market.  I needed to pick up some local honey, because the allergy pills alone aren't cutting it and I want to try this home remedy.  See, the bees are all polleny when they make the honey.  If you get honey that is made in the area where you live and isn't filtered or cooked or messed with, the pollen is still in there and you have a great little way to get your immune system to get over itself and quit flipping out whenever flowers bloom. 

Did I mention that the doctor (yeah, I just had to go there) says that I cannot have alcohol or coffee until further notice which will come when I see him IN A MONTH?  I'm devastated.  And tired.  And not at all relaxed in the evenings. 

We were at the farmer's market.  Willow was really cute.  She held my hand and even though I just wanted to pop in and get the honey and some cherry tomatoes for her, she decided we had to walk up and down the rows and look at all the booths.  There was a guy there singing and playing guitar.  Little kids were dancing in front of him, and I figured that was where she was leading me.  I was thinking, Damn, I'll have to give him a dollar or something and I don't want to, when she dragged me past him to get a real good look at the arugula. 

The woman at the honey stand gave us some honey sticks.  I got orange and Willow picked green, which was a nasty little thing that did NOT taste at all of apples.  I finished mine and chewed the plastic straw while we walked, and Willow handed hers to me and said, "Here, YOU have this!" 

I can't tell you what it was about that little moment, but everything was good.  Willow was being her funny, sweet self, the sun was going down and everyone looked fabulous with that golden light on their skin.  The produce was bright red and green and yellow and orange and purple.  It smelled great, the weather was perfect, I wasn't worried or stressed about anything.  We were just blissed out at the farmer's market.  I love those times.  They are gifts. 


pink ipod, green honeystick

From the bottom of my heart

I'm home, finally.  I had a nuclear stress test this morning, which turned out totally fine.  So, I guess I'm just a big hypochondriac.  Baby O's mom says I'm a faker who just wanted a weekend off, but she's only joking and she took care of Willow for a big chunk of the weekend so I can allow her to tease me.

John read me all the comments over the phone while I was hooked up to monitors and an IV and all that fun stuff.  Thank you so much for all the well-wishes.  They totally worked because, look! I'm well.  Still lightheaded, but at least I'm home. 

Who knows what was (is) going on with me.  I guess the condensed story is that there may or may not be something wrong with my heart, but it's minor or nonexistent and so I can just follow up as an outpatient. 

I think I need a nap.  I'm feeling a little dazed and confused.  And very happy to be home.  I'll be back tomorrow when I'm more awake and alert.  Thanks again for all the love.

Jen is in the Hospital...

This is John, temporarily taking over Jen's blog to let everyone know that Jen is in the hospital.  On Thursday morning she started feeling dizzy - the "I just stood up too quickly" sort of dizziness - but the feeling didn't go away.  We went to the emergency room of the local county hospital, and they still haven't completely figured out what is wrong with her.  She's feeling a bit better now, but her EKG shows (or the doctors think it shows) that one of her ventricles isn't functioning as well as they think it should be.  My (perhaps foolish) hopes of having her come home Thursday night were quickly dashed, as were any expectations of seeing her home on Friday when all of the cardiologists buggered off to play golf (or whatever it is that cardiologists do on weekends).  They're planning a stress test (hooking her up to a monitor and having her run on a treadmill, or something like that) for her on Monday to see how her heart functions. 

We're obviously hoping that this is all a big fuss over nothing.  I'll update here (or hopefully Jen will) when we know more.

&*%#$@$^&* trojan

No, not that Trojan.  And, no, I'm not censoring myself.  There aren't bad words bad enough to convey how mad I am at the evil, rotten people in the world who make and send those ^&&%$#%^& trojan programs onto the computers of TOTALLY INNOCENT people like me, who then have to spend all day fixing it calling her smart brother (nine times) and cousin (one time) to get things working again.  Also, now that I'm working from home, it was even worse because I couldn't do anything but swear all day long. 

I'm tired.  Here's a picture of an egg that wanted to be a chicken so badly.  I feel really awful for frying the poor thing.

I somehow missed hearing about the 1 of 2996 project, which is too bad.  I wish I could have participated in it. 

On September 11, 2001, Sophie was just three months old.  Nate was two and a half, and Lex was nearly five.  I was living with the three of them in a little two bedroom apartment, and John lived in the apartment complex next door. 

My phone rang early that morning, but I didn't get up to answer it.  The machine came on, and I heard my step mom's voice in my kitchen saying, "Wake up! Turn on your TV!  New York City has been bombed, the White House has been bombed!" 

I thought she meant that nuclear bombs were falling.  I thought she meant the world was ending. 

I left the kids sleeping and shakily went outside into the quiet early morning to John's bedroom window.  I knocked on it until he woke up, then I brought him to my apartment.  I couldn't even talk, really, I think I just told him that something really, really, bad had happened and we sat down and turned on the television. 

How horrible and how awful this is to admit; my first response was relief.   

I want so badly to believe that people are basically good.  I have no concept of why the idea of power has such hold over people that they are willing to do anything to try to get it.  Yesterday I was talking with one of my kids (Nate? Sophie?) and they asked out of the blue, "What does, 'rule the world' mean?" 

(I think it was in reference to Plankton in the SpongeBob movie.)

"Well," I said, "some people think that they want to be totally in charge of everything and everyone on the whole entire planet."

"That's stupid, Mom.  It's WAY, WAY too big!"

It is too big.  But it's also too small these days.   

I remember September 10 of that year, too.  We didn't do much; just went to the park and sat in the shade.  I nursed Sophie while the boys ran around playing.  We met friends there, and someone took photos.  I think about that day a lot.  I miss that time.   I worry that all the problems in the world are just too difficult to fix.  I miss thinking that people are basically good.

No empty nest here

Sophie: Mama, when I grow up I will live with you.  That way YOU can watch my kids while I go out to dinner with my boyfriend.

Gwendomama's meme

Gwendomama asked me for this. 

One year ago I:

1. had an ear infection
2. was home alone with the kids
3. while John was in Seattle
4. had one vicodin in the medicine chest
5. linked to Grace's Katrina blog
6. linked to Badger's blog about the Astrodome (she volunteered there)
7. was watching season four of Six Feet Under
8. had really barfy kids
9. needed to get a cable to hook up the new computer monitor my mom gave me
10. ate dairy products
11. listened to Sophie tell me all about squid
12. and I worried that her finger was broken
13. drove to get the kids from school
14. went to the gym and ran three miles
15. was getting prepared to turn 35
16. shared a camera with John
17. had no job
18. was happy that school had started
19. really wanted to get some fuzzy bath rugs
20. was ogling the "Men We Love" copy of Bust magazine

Today, I:

1. had a minor earache from walking outside in the cold wind
2. am completely surrounded by people
3. was glad that John was here and not in Seattle with Matt (who he went with last year, and who is there now)
4. have no vicodin left
5. wrote a post for Blogging Baby about how Madrid banned models who were too skinny
6. reviewed three children's books for Blogging Baby
7. am desperately missing SFU
8. do NOT have barfy kids; knock on wood
9. am using another computer monitor that my mom gave me
10. no longer eat dairy (sob)
11. listened to Sophie tell me about gingerbread men
12. worried that she will ask someone at school to sniff her butt or something equally offensive
13. walked to and from school twice
14. walked two miles
15. am ignoring 36
16. have my own camera that I need to use more often
17. have two jobs and babysit
18. am ecstatic that school has rescued me
19. still dream about fuzzy bath rugs like these
20. didn't even have time to read the newspaper

Grappling with a "mommyblogger" dilemma

**updated!!

There is a story about one of my kids that I want to write down because it was really sweet.  But, I'm afraid that down the road it'll make him mad at me.

You know, he does get mad at me all. the. time. anyhow; I'll just put it under the jump.

Long weekend

Long entry.

On Saturday I went to a bridal shower for the older of my two younger sisters.  I'm happy for her, of course, but I have to say it was odd for me.  I'll spare you all those Growing Up Too Fast Where Does The Time Go cliches, but I am thinking them. 

I got there a little early so I could help out.  My sister's friend hosted the shower, but she lives hundreds of miles away and so the shower was at our mom's house.  While I was in the kitchen (making icing for the cupcakes), my step dad was in the den watching football on the television that is (seriously) bigger than my couch.  I'm not much of a football watcher, but I discovered that I LOVE to be in the kitchen cooking while football is on the tv in another room.   It reminds me of being a kid and it reminds me that fall is coming. 

The shower was really nice and we didn't have to play those awful fru-fru games.  The only game kind of thing was a mad lib based on a couple of paragraphs about my sister and her fiancee.  It turned out really funny.  There was one line that ended up "In her spare time she jumps everything she sees," or something like that.  The house looked great, like a magazine.  I love the cupcake tower my mom set up.  Here, look for yourself. 

Late to the party

Here's my Love Thursday entry for this week. 



Last time we went to the beach, I was carrying these bags and Nate insisted on taking them for me.  He's so sweet and thoughtful.

For more on Love Thursday, go here.