Another Birthday.












Last weekend I had a Birthday. Jerry and Charlie sang to me while Will banged a wooden spoon in his high chair. They presented me with a cake with 23 on the top. The numbers were reversed, but whatever.

I was giddy all day. I had a massage, pedicure, and manicure. I had the following conversation with the lady doing my discount manicure:
Me: Oh, don't file the sides of the nails, please.
Her: Um, ok.
Me (sensing obvious discomfort). Thanks.
Her: Why don't you want sides filed?
Me: Because it weakens the nails.
Her: Who told you that?
What are we? In seventh grade? I have to provide references for facts that we all know are facts?

Aaaaanyway. I also enjoyed a cup of coffee, by myself, in peace.

And read my book, the Bonesetter's Daughter, at my favorite cafe.

And at night, we went out to dinner with friends.

I was happy all day, because I love my birthday, because I am inherintly a little self-centered.

Top Seven: How I Know I Am Getting Old.
7. Last week I heard myself say the following (while at McDonald's): Oh, I love this song.

6. I have lately felt very excited whenever I get to drive somewhere. I drive a minivan. We just bought it. I love it.

5. I haven't been to a concert in over two years. I haven't been stoned in ten years. I haven't been drunk in at least two weeks.

4. I recently signed up for an IRA, and got excited. I have life insurance.

3. For my Birthday dinner, we reserved our babysitter until midnight. Jerry scoffed when he heard me say that. A little before midnight, I reluctantly admitted to our friends that I had to go home because I couldn't stay awake any longer. When I say, "a little before midnight," I actually mean 9:15.

2. I find myself often choosing Briefs instead of my once-trusty Low Waisted Hipsters. I like my briefs cuz when I bend over, they don't show crack. They stay up, reliably, all day long. They also look like old lady panties, complete with some bunching in the back. But the truth is, I don't care.

1. There are all sorts of ways to become cool. If I wanted to appear cool, I could read up on bands and clothes and pop culture. But I honestly, truthfully do not care about appearances anymore. And I am happy about that.

It's Valentine's Day. Leave me alone.
I am in a crappy mood, and I'm not really sure why. I have some ideas, though.

The snow is still all over the ground and I am ready for the days when the kids and I can run outside barefoot, when they can splash water and not need an immediate clothing change, when gloves don't get lost and I don't have to carry around a wiggly, back-arching 11-month-old who wants nothing less than to be confined by his mommy.

The age group I have now is prooving to be sucky. Even though I am down one high-maintenance child, I have 6 who aren't exactly low maintenance. The two three-year-olds entertain themselves well, but still challenge authority and are big enough to break out of time-outs (well, Charlie anyway). The two-year-olds don't have tantrums, but are potty-training, requiring much time in the boring, windowless bathroom, and they are still at the age where they follow me around a little and make it hard for me to make lunch and pay attention to the babies. Will naps well and complains little, but gets into everything and bumps his head about ten times a day. New newborn baby is easy - sleeps often - but I feel like I give her no one-on-one time.

My goal with this daycare is to have what feels like a preschool, to potty-train the young ones, to give all the kids -- babies especially -- some meaningful eye contact and conversation; instead, circle times are just a distraction from their sole desire to play with cars, we only make it to the bathroom twice a day (not enough to potty train those not in the habit), and the babies... I feel like I just want them to grow up so they can keep up with the rest of us. And one of those babies is my own, so I feel guilty and crappy for having such thoughts.

And financially, don't get me started. Somehow someone underestimated what we needed to put into escrow for property taxes. Underestimated by almost two thousand dollars. And we have to turn in our leased car, the one where we went over on the miles, so that's another just-under-two-thousand-dollars. And both our cars have recent dents -- one my fault, the other a hit-and-run, so there's another thousand. And we have a family wedding coming up (out of state, of course). And apparantly I was supposed to be putting money aside for taxes, but I didn't, because I didn't owe last year, the year I had all the business startup costs, so I think that's another couple thousand. And then there's some medical deductibles and shit for the house.

And hubby just got a raise and promotion, but he is working such long hours that he is crabby at night. And on just the days that I can't wait to get away from the kids -- when all I want is to read and finish reading one simple article in an intelligent-sounding, adult-focused newspaper over a decent cup of coffee, which I also would like to finish without interruption -- he is stressed out and also needs a break. So we snap at each other. And it's Valentine's Day, and my Birthday is in three days but we have no money, see above.

When it rains, it pours.

Pajama day
I organized piles of papers, I ate french toast at 10am, I lied around on the floor with my two kids, I watched The View for the first time. I stayed in my pajamas the entire day. I applied no make-up or hair products. I put Charlie down for his quiet time when his baby brother went down, and not according to the clock. I stared at the wall a little. I tried to think of things to do.

It was bliss.

I have another day of it tomorrow.

Christmas

My memories of Chrismas are from age 8 and up. I really don't remember being a toddler or preschooler on the holidays, even though I have a lot of memories from this age. So I never really know what to expect on the holidays with little kids of my own.

Skip the next few sections if traditional, domestic bliss bothers you.

I remember waking up early on Christmas morning and kneeling - no, lying - down at the top of the stairs so that I could peek and see what Santa had brought. No matter what it looked like downstairs, it was always glorious and festive and the best thing in the world. I loved Christmas.

We would tear open presents before eating breakfast. Then we would leave the paper mess in the middle of the floor and eat pancakes or waffles, famished. Everyone in the family loved Christmas; I think that is what made it so great.

My mom would play the piano and we'd sing Christmas carols, even though she was the only one who could really sing. My dad would read the Christmas story from the Bible. My sister and brother would come home from college and stay for the day, bringing me huge Bert and Ernie cookies or an oversized stuffed animal or something along those lines. My mom would cook a huge, delicious feast while the rest of us sacked out on the couch, watched TV, and played board games all day. I loved everyone being there together.

* * *

Our Christmas this year was different in so many ways. We had to wake Charlie up at 8:30 so that we could open presents together before Will's first nap. He came down the steps sleepy and out of it. He was happy to see his new bike, but also a little clingy and uncertain.

Charlie quickly got into the spirit of tearing open presents, and often said, "is that one mine? is this one mine? is it mine? is it? is it?" And I cringed just a tiny bit because I hate the idea of Christmas being all commercial and raising a kid who just expects stuff. So we gently reminded him that other people have turns, and that we can stop and slow down to enjoy the present most recently received.

There was no Christmas story - the boys are too young and I don't know where to begin.

My family is all out-of-state, so that made me a little sad. No Scrabble or Monopoly or Balderdash. (Just wait until the boys are old enough. I am totally raising them to be game guys. Take that, hubby.)

But still, it was a happy day. The four of us were all together, there was snow on the ground outside and it was peaceful and warm inside, we all had days off and time to cuddle and do nothing. And, Jerry was so thoughtful - he got me my first pair of sexy pajamas, that both revealed the lovelies while concealing the mom belly. I felt spoiled, but in a good way.

And then Charlie started acting extremely sassy, apparently thinking that Christmas means the children are kings for a day. And with all the excitement and overstimulation, Will would not go down for his second nap, so he fussed and arched his back, and it took forever to get him down.

Then we made a huge dinner (my part: homemade croutons. Hubby's: everything else. Hey, I was in charge of naps.)

All in all, a wonderful day.

Done whining now.
All right. Two posts of whining, and I am officially snapping myself out of it. Sorry for that.

I am looking straight into ten uninterrupted days off with my kids, hubby, and kitty. Days to rejuvinate and celebrate Christmas. So on a positive note:

Quotables
Jerry: Charlie, why don't you go play in the other room?
Charlie: No, mommy is in there. I don't like her.
Jerry: That was mean.
Charlie (walking over to me): Oh mommy, I sorry. I love you. I love you all my heart.

Later:
Will crawls over to me, uses my arms as handles and pulls himself to a standing position, and gives me a big, wet, open-mouth kiss on my cheek. Aw, sweet stuff.

Today I am thankful for...
Four days with only my children


Big, juicy cherries


Consistent poops in the potty


Perfect November weather


Breastfeeding baby who stops feeding to look up at me, make eye contact, and smile thankfully at me