Monthly Archives: September 2008

Decisions, Decisions

30 Tuesday Sep 2008

Posted by in Happy Thoughts

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So I’ve been invited to a Halloween party.  DH isn’t going so I won’t need to think about a couples costume which good.  However, I’m having a hard time trying to figure out what to BE or dress up as, rather.

My first thought was a drunken Sarah Palin with lipstick smeared and a button that says, well, I won’t go there because it might offend.  DH says I should wear a hockey jersey, a pig nose and put on some bright red lipstick.  These are both viable options but I dunno.  Something about both of them doesn’t excite me.

What does make me excited is dressing up like Nancy Botwin from Weeds.  I’d delve into why but that might be another post.  DH says it’s a cop out.  But I think if I go the distance, get brown contacts for my eyes (mine are green), put my hair into those pig tail twists (might need long brunette wig), wear huge black sunglasses and carry a half empty iced coffee drink around with me the whole time like she does (most of the time) … anyone who actually watches the show is bound to get it, right?  Okay, maybe it is a cop out.  But I’d enjoy it just for one night.

Then I thought of something that might be rather easy — Arwen.  I’m constantly being told that I look like Liv Tyler or Cate Blanchett so I’d just have to find a long sleeved nightgown, buy the long brunette wig mentioned previously and voila!  Elfin’ magic.  But maybe I’d have to get the ears too …

OR and this one is crazy and DH thinks I’m nuts but this costume comes to mind each year when I’m invited to this particular party.  A tampon.  Yes, go as a tampon.  Not a used one, that’s just gross.  I’d wrap myself in that batting used for quilting, cut out arm and face holes and attach a string to the bottom.  Although, I’d have to be an OB tampon and wear pants on my bottom half because how else would I pee?  Too much?

Ugh.  A regular Sarah Palin is the easy way to go.  I wouldn’t even need to buy anything for it.  I have cutsy thick-framed glasses, a women’s power suit and putting my hair up like hers would be a cinch.  I dunno.  What do you think?

P.S. Apologies to any Sarah Palin fans out there.  Being the political hot-topic in the room is YET ANOTHER reason to not go dressed up as her.

The Bank of Jello

28 Sunday Sep 2008

Posted by in Deep Thoughts, For better or for worse

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I was fortunate enough to spend the first 8 years of my life knowing my Great-Grandmother.  Not all children have this opportunity.  She was kind and I have a few fond memories of sitting on her lap in her rocking chair or beside her when she got older and couldn’t support my weight on her legs.  She passed away at age 93.  I was in third grade and as I got older I learned more and more about her from her grandson, my father. 

In recent days, with all of the economic turmoil our country is in, I’ve been thinking about her a lot and the “lessons” she taught me via my father’s recollections.  You see, my Great-Grandmother lived during the Great Depression.  It was a rough time for her and her family and it definitely shaped her world view.  Every Christmas, she bought me a new coat and shoes.  When she was too old to do it herself, she gave my parents or my Great-Aunt money to do so.  These were very important items for me to have in her opinion.  As we all heard in our history classes, people were homeless, cold, wearing shoes lined with newspaper.  I don’t know if my Great-Grandmother ever had to line her shoes with newspaper but she was always concerned about how I was dressed and if I had enough clothes. 

After my Great-Grandmother passed away, my father, mother and I went to her townhouse in Baltimore.  It was in a declining neighborhood near Eastern Avenue.  We walked in and the place looked like it had been robbed.  And in a way, it had.  Not by burgulars or strangers, but by our own relatives.

Due to my Great-Grandmother’s skepticism about banks and other financial institutions, she hid all of her “wealth” in her house.  Jewelry hidden around the house and more importantly, money in Jello boxes.  Lots of money apparently.  Enough for my other relatives to make a trip in the middle of the night to get the Jello boxes and other hidden items.  I remember my Dad going into the kitchen and the cupboards were all open.  There were open Jello boxes on the floor.  No money left in them.  Dad was angry and muttered a few words under his breath.  Apparently, that money was left to someone else in her will than the people who got it.  I’m not sure whatever happened with that money or if it was ever settled.  Maybe I’ll ask Dad about this sometime soon.

What I do remember was my father turning to me and asking, “Is there anything you would like to have?  To remember your Great-Grandmother?”  Since we were in the kitchen, I asked for a particular juice glass.  It was the glass she served me orange juice in every time we visited.  It was a small glass with yellow and orange flowers on it.  The other thing I wanted was the rocking chair.  Mom was hesitant about this one as my Great-Grandmother didn’t have much control of her bowel movements in her last year and that chair was in rough shape.  But we took it anyway.

We still have the rocking chair.  It’s in storage at my parent’s house and one day, Mom and I will recover it (again — Mom recovered it after we took it home) to match whatever decor I have at the time.  Unfortunately, the orange juice glass broke a few years later.  However, I think the one thing which will never break or deteriorate, is the memory of those Jello boxes.  And everything they symbolize.  Fear of the banks failure.  Ruthlessness of those close to you during a vulnerable time.

With the recent economic downturn, I’ve actually thought about putting a few bucks into Jello boxes.  We’re supposed to keep a couple hundred on hand in our ”readiness” bags anyway right?  Maybe she had the right idea.  Maybe I’ll put a few boxes of Jello into a readiness bag and stash some cash there as well.  That way, we can enjoy some orange Jello and have money to buy whatever it is we’ll need to get during armageddon.

Say my name, say my name

22 Monday Sep 2008

Posted by in Parenthood

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Today I was thinking about the multitude of names I have for Monkey.  Oddly enough, “Monkey” isn’t really used in real life that much.  Occassionally, I will call him this.

I realized that there are certain times when I use certain nicknames I have for Monkey.  Obviously, “Monkey” is used here.  However, when he’s done something that’s not worth reprimanding but I still wish he hadn’t done it or was about to do it, I usually say, “Oh Buddy.”  Then there’s the getting-out-of-the-car or other exciting moments (for Monkey anyway) when I usually call him, “Baubba Do”.  For instance, while pulling him out of his car seat I’ll say, “Alright, Baubba Do, let’s go!”

Poor kid is probably so confused with all of the names I call him.  That’s why I’ve been making an effort to call him by his REAL name more often recently.

Do you have a multitude of nicknames for your children or just the one?

Baby Signs Fun?

16 Tuesday Sep 2008

Posted by in For better or for worse, Parenthood

≈ 6 Comments

Recently, I’ve noticed that not only is my lil’ Monkey getting cabin fever on the days we spend at home together alone, but I am, too.  There is only so much walking around the neighborhood, going to Target and cruising the Mall/Outlets you can do before it becomes a drag.  Not to mention, going to Target and cruising the Mall/Outlets can prove to be quite expensive.

Monkey does amazingly with other kids.  Sometimes it takes him a little while to warm up but usually not too long.  It’s the warming up to the grown ups he has trouble with most times and usually the ones he doesn’t warm up to, I can see why.  Because of this and our need for new pastures to roam, I signed us up for a Baby Signs class. 

He seems to be old enough now to actually grasp this stuff.  One of the DVDs we watch in the morning while I’m getting ready for work is the My First Signs DVD, by Baby Einstein.  At first, he was just all about the puppets.  But recently, he actually signed “Milk” and does a half-version of “More” (he clasps the fingers of only one hand and puts it into the open palm of the other).  So this was enough for me to warrant the money for a class.  That and the music class I wanted to put him in were already full (the one within reasonable driving distance anyway).

Today was our first class and it was good.  I am however worried that I’m THAT mother with THAT kid.  Lemme explain.

Brian warmed up EXTRA quick to these folks.  Not sure why but he REALLY felt at home and began grabbing at everything.  The instructor uses a bear prop which has arms that she can fit her own arms into to make it look like the bear is making the signs.  Once she was done with the lesson using BeeBo Bear, Monkey decided he wanted it.  He just got up, went over and tried to drag him back to me (the bear is quite big, bigger than Monkey himself).

Then they had this musical part with little maracas.  He did okay at first but towards the end of the song he decide he wanted MORE maracas.  And when the song ended and the other children put down their maracas, he proceeded to collect them as many as he could fit in his two little hands.  THEN he even grabbed some out of the hands of one child.  That’s where I drew the line and proceeded to yank the offending maraca out of his hand and hand it back.  That didn’t settle well for Monkey and he made a little fuss.

Thankfully, the instructor quickly started another game/lesson and Monkey was eager to listen to that one, yet still grasping about 4 maracas.  And he held onto those maracas until the end of the class.  That’s when it got UGLY.  I waited for all of the other parents to leave, partially because I knew what horrors were coming but also because we started late and I needed to pay the instructor yet for the semester.

Then the deed had to be done.  After I wrote out the check, I handed it to the instructor, grabbed everything I needed before going to Monkey.  I picked him up and had to literally yank with mighty strength to get those darned things out of his hands.  He was screaming wildly as if to say, “You will pry these maracas from my cold, dead hand, woman!”

To her credit, the instructor was very understanding about everything.  She told Monkey, “Don’t worry, we’ll play with the maracas next week!”  And I was thinking, “This is a good thing?  Please, for the love of all that his holy, keep those things out of sight!”

By the time we reached the door of the recreation center the class was held in, he had calmed down a little more.  But then the usual struggle to get in the car whilest there are any trees within viewing distance* occurred.  He wasn’t too bad about that but I was exhausted by the previous transaction.  I threw all of the crap I had to carry (diaper bag, class materials, his bear and his sippy cup) onto the grass median in the parking lot just so I could use what strength I had left to get his little butt into the car seat.

I now remember why I quit going to the mommy group at the hospital.  It’s a LOT of work.  I hoping this will get easier.  Although, I’m dreading the time during the class when the maracas come out again.  Ugh.  Maybe Mommy will have to go pee at that time and take the Maracas Snatcher with me.

*Monkey, being the nature boy that he is, LOVES trees and likes to collect their leaves.  So everytime we see a tree, he has to touch it.  I usually give him ONE leaf off of the tree to take into the car but these trees didn’t have any low lying branches where I could snatch one for him.

No more breastfeeding = weight gain

15 Monday Sep 2008

Posted by in Parenthood, Sickness and Health

≈ 4 Comments

I can’t say how many pounds because I’m afraid to weigh myself.  But judging from the bulge of my mommy gut, I’ve gained at least two pounds in the past 3 weeks. 

Part of the problem is that I’m still eating like I’m breastfeeding.  My appetite has definitely decreased and I’ve noticed it.  But some days, that chocolate milkshake I could get away with before just calls my name.  Again.  And again.  And again.  Until finally, I just give in and run through McD’s drive through and get one.

So part of the new plan is to be more conscious of my cravings and when they occur.  I can tell you already a lot of it is work stress related.  Second part of the plan is to GO TO YOGA MORE.  DH just sits back and listens to me drone on and then gives me that look.  The one that says, “Yeah, yeah.  We’ve heard this before.”

Doesn’t he understand that attitude doesn’t help my efforts?!  To be fair though, he kinda forced me to go this past weekend.  And I dreaded every minute of it.  I have to get my body used to that torture again and my mind to just SHUT UP in class.  If I can get to where I was prior to Monkey being born, I think I’ll be able to sustain it.  It’s the getting to that point that’s difficult.

What is it about giving birth to a child that makes you just not care about fitness or looking good anymore?  I mean, I have done better in recent months since going into the office on my working days.  At one point, when I was doing all of my work from home, I had degraded into a What Not to Wear episode.  But still, I find it not necessary to put make-up on everyday now or iron clothes or get fit.  I almost feel entitled to “let myself go”.

Maybe it’s just about attitude.  Or maybe, I just need a swift kick in the ass.

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