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.

I have a dream
I am trying to prepare for next week’s multicultural awareness week in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Birthday. This is a little tough with two- and three-year-olds, being that I’m not sure they are ready to talk about treatment of African Americans pre 1960s, getting shot, or picketing. So I am focusing instead on the general concept of diversity, loving one another, and looking beyond appearances. I checked out some great books about animals from different species who have become friends in spite of their differences. I have a globe and books about different cultures, how they live, and the foods they eat. I printed some coloring pages of kids holding hands, and plan to buy some “skin color” Crayolas. I bought some rainbow happy faces because, I don’t know, they seemed pretty cool. So my theme for next week is almost complete.

Me: Jerry, can you help me think of a TV show or movie that I can Tivo which highlights people of different backgrounds learning to get along together?
Jerry: Yeah, The Office.

Perfect.

What I want for Christmas
I just spent the last three hours searching online for the perfect husbandly Christmas gift. Not only does it not exist, but if it does, it is too expensive. So I started to get bored, and wander. And I found a bunch of nice things for me.

Husband, if you are out there and have decided to finally read one of my blog posts, here is my list.

Godiva chocolate covered strawberries

I've been on my pre-diabetic diet for a week, and I've done great. Really. I am so proud of myself. So let's celebrate. Not only does the chocolate contain some protein in the milk, but the strawberry has fiber, cancelling out a carb or two.

Gap wide stripe hoodie

Perfect because: a) I work with kids all day and like to be comfortable; b) this has stripes; c) it zips both ways. Not sure why that is important, but I like it.

Faith slipper

Because when I answer the door to those daycare parents, I need to look somewhat serious about my job, while also feeling extremely comfortable. These will do the trick, and I get to feel cute too.

Kisses bandages

I seem to hurt myself a lot. These will totally help.

Orgasmitron head massager

We went to a party once where they had this, and man, it was a conversation starter for like 2 hours. But that's not why I want one.

Chemise

Because I have never, in all of my very sexy adult life, owned one of these. It is time.

Eye-soothe tension-relieving mask

I don't really want this. But can we make fun of her for a minute?

Kama sutra dice game

Married 8 years

Velour pants

Mmmmm. Comfy.

Candy bra

Requires no explanation

Opening and Closing a Chapter

The night after we returned home from the hospital to watch Charlie's forehead get stitched back together, hubby and I returned home, exhausted and frazzled.

We weren't the only ones. When I went to pick up Will from the neighbor's house, he too was frazzled, except with him, the cause was separation anxiety. Each time I tried to put him to bed, he would wake up screaming, wanting to be held a little longer. After four attempts, I finally took him to bed with me.

Hubby later came in to kiss me sweetly and see if I was OK. Although I felt stressed out, I also felt so incredibly thankful for all that we have. “I love our baby boys,” I said. He smiled at me, then asked: “Want to try for the next one?”

Stunned silence. This coming from the man who made it abundantly clear that we would be done having kids after two. That he felt too “old” to keep procreating like a bunny rabbit. That he -- and I agreed -- wanted our time alone together as soon as possible. That we wanted things to be less hectic, and sooner.

I laughed it off and didn't say anything. I didn't want to jinx the possibility.

* * *

I spent the next two days exploring opposite sides of the fence.

At first: this odd feeling that I should want another child, yet I didn't. I should want a girl, right? Yet I feel complete without one. Three kids would be more fun that two, yes? Yet I feel my life is pretty full of fun already. Peace and quiet, that is what I want.

But then. How cool would it be to be pregnant again? To take each breath and deliver that breath to the life inside me? To literally push a life out into the world again? To see a new face that is both a combination of the two of us, and yet, its own unique being? To give both my boys a new little sibling to look after. A new little sibling that might possibly be a girl.

And then, hours later, the practical thoughts. If we have three, that will delay when I can return to the workforce – the workforce that will give me things like 401ks, pre-tax savings plans, adult interaction, coffee breaks. If I have three children, then as a daycare provider, I would have to let one of my daycare kids go and say goodbye to some significant income, too, as I can only legally watch a maximum of six kids... unless, I thought, I wait until Charlie is in Kindergarten, in which case I don't have to count him and I can have the income of four children... but if baby #3 is delayed until Charlie reaches Kindergarten, then I can't get pregnant for fourteen more months, allowing fourteen more months for hubby to discover a grey hair or feel old and change his mind.

And furthermore... if we have three, we would most certainly need a bigger house, one that is not already bursting at the seams, but we can't move into a bigger house until I have a traditional paycheck that a bank will count as legitimate, and if I get a traditional job then I can't stay home with my third baby and I want to give him or her what I gave my first two.

And the numbers. With three, it will be at least two more years until we are all sleeping through the night, and four-and-a-half more years until we can go to restaurants like civilized people, and two hundred and twenty-five more months until hubby and I can retire, child-free.

But if we have three, then maybe we can have a girl.

Later I go to the library and flip through Taking Charge of Your Fertility. I am not ready to buy it yet. But I skim the chapter on increasing one's odds of producing a girl.

* * *

Later, we are all driving to see Christmas lights downtown. I have a strange feeling that before I let this verbal boxing match continue in my brain any longer, I should clarify something.

Me: You know the other day when you mentioned trying for a third? You meant that, right?
Him: Oh, no, honey. I changed my mind about 30 seconds after I said it.
Me: Did you think maybe you should tell me? Because I've been thinking about it ever since.
Him: I'm so sorry. I thought we were pretty clear about this.

* * *

So, decision made. I was perfectly happy with two before, with only a fleeting question about what it would be like to have a girl, followed by a fleeting feeling that I didn't actually need one. And then I had two days where I allowed myself to picture this family of five, and to plan how to accomplish it. And now the door is closed and there is no more reason to think of it.

Shopping for men
Does anyone know the secret to buying a good Christmas gift for your male significant other?

My husband does so much for me, and I still have butterflies almost every time I see him. And as time goes on, it becomes more and more apparant to me that I made the right choice in marrying him. Seriously. He's the best.

Yet my Christmas gifts to him always suck. I know it.

I know that all men are hard to buy for, as I've heard other women complain about this. But my man is particularly hard. For example:

* He does not like jewelry of any kind. The watch I bought him 3 years ago sits in his box of momentos. You know, sentimental reasons.

* He does not like cologne or after shave.

* He has indicated he is not crazy about clothing purchases.

* He loves political stuff, and in previous years I have purchased political playing cards, a book, daily calendar with witty sayings, and some cheesy stuff like that. I think it was a moderate success at best.

* Sentimental pictures of kids in frames -- been there, done that.

* My old standby of CD purchases is not an option now that everything is downloadable.

* He loves electronics, but we are on a tight budget.

The Internet has been of little help. Let's explore.

Star Wars Lightsaber


Remote Controlled Crawling Hand


Under Armour Men's Heat Gear Full T-Shirt


Mansilk Sexy Silk Boxers


Intimo Men's Liquid Metallic Bikini


TV Volume Regulator


Boob Stress Reliever


Gentlemen's Willy Care Kit (containing fluffing brush, styling shears, sprucing mirror, and evening wear silver jewelry)


Dolly the Inflatable Sheep


Spankometer


I am open to suggestions.