Thursday, December 28, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Because, while excellent mimics, preschoolers are lacking in the AIM department.
(This is especially true for boys as evidenced by the floor, walls and anything else within a 3ft proximity of my toilet.)
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Outlook alerts me that I have two new emails. The emails indicate that I missed two phone calls and there are two messages waiting for me in voicemail. The caller ID shows The Husband's cell phone number.
I click on the attachments. Windows Media Player launches. I listen.
Voicemail #1: Hey wife, Guess what???? No, you're just going to have to answer to find out. I'll call back in a minute.
Voicemail #2: Umm, wife? I'm trying to call you but you're not answering. I have someone here who wants to talk to you. Umm... his name is, umm... Bono.
Huh? Sonny Bono is dead.
Wait a minute...
[Hit Pause. Rewind.]
I have someone who wants to talk to you. Umm... his name is, umm... Bono.
No. That can't be right. Could it?
Umm... his name is, umm... Bono.
Realizing my husband's flair for mutilating the English language I come to conclusion that he is indeed mispronouncing the name and he is in fact referring to the lead singer of one of my favorite bands EVAH.
Frantically I pick
Where is he?
At a meeting in the city.
Husband finally calls me back and confirms that after his meeting he was dragged to some event where he was introduced to B.O.N.O.
I'm so sorry hon. He was right here, with my cell phone in his hand all ready to say "Hello."
That's ok. But he could have left a message. That would have been cool.
Seriously, if there EVER was a ever a better opportunity for the lead singer of the band who recorded Vertigo to leave a witty phone message THIS. WAS. IT.
I can still hear it play out in my head: Hello, Hello! Hola!
I mean COME ON! It would have been classic.
Oh and hon? It's a good thing I didn't talk to him b/c I would have totally ratted you out for mis-pronouncing his name.
[Fast forward. Christmas Morning.]
I open this.
An iPod nano (PRODUCT) RED.
(If you don't know about the Join (RED) campaign and what it's doing to help fight HIV/AIDS in Africa click here and educate yourself. And then go buy something.)
Husband encourages me to remove it from it's package and take a closer look.
On the back I find this.
The hows and the whys are not important. What's cool is that He indulged my husband not once but TWICE. And while a phone call would have been AWESOME, his autograph totally makes up for it. I got me the coolest Hubby EVAH.
This nifty little applet tells me that my purchase will generate enough money so The Global Fund can provide someone living with HIV in Africa one month of anti-retroviral medicine.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
[Insert crazy Fruit-Cake-Lady joke here.]
I gave one to
You need to go shower.
Why? Is she dying?
Whatever the reason-Holiday Spirit, a momentary lapse of reason, temporary insanity-for that brief moment the past disappeared and we were like two old friends exchanging sincere holiday wishes with one another.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
This picture doesn't even begin to capture the grossness factor going on with this child's thumb.
Red. Flaky. Peeling. Blistered. RAW.
Tried wrapping it in sterile gauze last night. No deal.
Tried wrapping it in sterile gauze and then dressing her in an old infant gown with the built-in fold-over mittens. Well, that just PISSED HER OFF.
A call to the pediatrician's office is forthcoming.
(Once I hit publish 'cuz the Internet must know about this first!)
All I have to say is, better it be her thumb than my BOOB.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Yeah. They think she has potential so they want her to keep practicing.
I had no idea.
There is a winter concert at Cinderella's school tomorrow night.
Oh. I was not aware of that.
Cinderella is earning her Yellow Belt tonight in Tae Kwon Do.
(The Boy was going to the same belt promotion ceremony that night. I was unaware that Cinderella's age group would also be there.)
My request for space has left me feeling out of the loop.
Once again, feeling like an outsider intruding on Their relationship.
Like a stranger in my own Home.
Like it's Them against Me.
These feelings are all to familiar. I have started to feel emotional reactions that I haven't felt in a long time. Since we first became a blended Family over seven years ago.
(Well, what did you expect? You asked for this, didn't you?)
You're right. You're right. I know you're right.
Still, I'm feeling conflicted.
Conflicted between my absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder theory.
Conflicted by my knowledge of what the Psychologist called in to help with the Custody Case noted: She is the most stabilizing factor in Cinderella's life right now. My involvement and supervision has provided Cinderella with some much-needed structure.
And most of all conflicted by my overwhelming need for have some sense of Control over everything in my Life thanks to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
(It never ceases to amaze me just how far reaching the effects of His actions are in my Life.)
Hubby and I continue to struggle with finding how to balance my request while not neglecting Cinderella's needs or our own needs as a couple and parents. Mixed signals are being sent. Conflicts have arisen.
Cinderella is beginning to show signs of a child looking for attention. Her passive-aggressive defiance is on the rise.
A solution needs to be found quickly. I hope that one will be found by way of family (as well as individual) counseling that we will be resuming soon.
(Hubby found a job! With a steady salary! And benefits!)
Monday, December 11, 2006
ACK! This explains where I have been this month.
This is my holiday, peoples. If you thought my birthday cakes were impressive, you should see what I do for Christmas.
Decorating: My home has been turned into a freakin' Winter Wonderland, inside and out. This year, because he loves me so, The Hubby agreed to indulge me and my request to wrap our 40ft magnolia tree in lights. Two days, one forehead gash and 14,000 (yes, that's fourteen T.H.O.U.S.A.N.D.) lights later, it's only 2/3 complete. Move over Clark Griswald!
Tree Shopping: A spectacular Douglas Fir which has been lit and is ready for decoratin' tonight.
Homemade Ornaments: I'd show you but then that'd ruin the surprise for those recipients who are also readers. Let's just say that I've found a creative use for The Mouse's baby food jars. BRILLIANT!
Shopping: E-commerce is my friend b/c 'tis not only the season for yuletide merriment but also for phlegm producing cooties which has been plaguing our home for the past two weeks.
This week, it's baking cookies and Secret-Family-Recipe Date 'n Nut Loaf, oh and perfecting my Dance of the Snowflakes b/c I need snow!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Marriage number Three for him.
Stepparent number Three for Me!
I love his now-Wife. She's Sassy, Classy and isn't ashamed to admit that she doesn't like kids but for some reason loves Mine. And they Love her. And for those reasons, plus a million more, I Love her.
I Love that my Dad has found a Life companion.
I Love this newest addition to my Family Tree.
I now find myself in uncharted territory. A 30-something year old with a woman whom I have always called my Stepmom though she is technically my EX-Stepmom b/c she is no longer married to my Dad and now a NEW Stepmom.
My Dilemma is not one of emotional loyalties. It's more a matter of semantics.
How am I to differentiate between these two women in conversation or blogging?
Does a 30-something year old need a Stepmom? Or is she simply Dad's Wife?
Both Cinderella and The Boy have asked what they should now call her. Now that she is Grandpop's wife, who is she?
Good question, guys. I'll ask her.
[Does she even want to be elevated to grandmother status?]
Turn out, she does. She is thrilled, honored and touched that the kids feel strongly about assigning her a new moniker.
We tossed around several new nicknames: Nonna, Nanny, Nan, Gran and variations that combined her name + grandma.
In the end, we settled on Granny. Not our top choice but The Boy would settle for nothing less. [He's a stubborn little shit sometimes.]
So, Granny it is.
Growing up, I had just two grandmothers. Both of my grandfathers passed away when my parents were kids.
I sometimes envy our children. Thanks to me, and my extended/blended family they have grandparents to spare. That translates into extra lovin' and extra spoilin'.
What's not to love about that?
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Friday, November 10, 2006
Thursday, November 9, 2006
Jessica McClintock Handbag: $60
The Perfect Dangle Earrings: $24
Hosiery and other incedentals: (Nevermind, you pervs!)
Enjoying a shopping spree with your Mom and [once]StepMom: Priceless
There are lots of things money can buy, but days like this can't be put on a credit card.
Ok, so I have to ask: Your *Stepmother* took your *Mom* and you shopping???? Now that's not one you hear every day!
I should be used to this kind of reaction by now.
The concept of a friendly relationship between a Bio and StepMom is
Given my own challenges with Cinderella's BioMom I shouldn't be surprised when met with slack-jawed response whenever I describe the relationship that has existed between my Mom and StepMom since Day One. But I am.
It's a relationship I take for granted.
A relationship I naively once thought I might have with Cinderella's BioMom.
I now know it's a relationship I will never have. In order for that to happen, I would have to want it.
I don't think I do.
For now, I am happy with the relationship I can share with my own Mom and [once]StepMom.*
* She technically isn't my StepMom anymore since she is no longer married to my Dad. And she re-married 7 years ago. (I was her maid of honor!) BUT I have known her since I was Seven so she is Family.
And NOW my Dad has just re-married so I have a brand-spankin-new StepMom which makes me incredibly lucky to have another fabulous woman in my life but how does one go about explaining having TWO stepmothers?
(OHMYHELL my Family Tree is beginning to look like some horticultural grafting experiment gone awry.)
Tuesday, November 7, 2006
Although the custody agreement states that BioMom may Elect to spend any non-visitation day with Her where they both have off from school/work, She still would like to have the courtesy of being asked.
Cinderella has taken a huge step towards exercising her Rights. Rights which she never knew she had or was never permitted to express. Rights which we have reminded her of many times since January.
She has been reluctant to speak up about custody and visitation issues. She is mindful of everyone's feelings and doesn't want to hurt anyone. Mostly BioMom who has expressed hurt feelings before.
Cinderella doesn't need that kind of Guilt.
BioMom has been trying to plan out today with The Husband for over a week. He knew he needed to discuss it with Cinderella first. He didn't want to tip off BioMom about this knowing full-well that she would initiate the conversation with Cinderella who would then simply back down and do what she felt her Mother would want.
Husband needed to have this conversation with Cinderella on his own, without BioMom's influence.
Mommy is asking to spend the day with You. But I wanted to discuss it with you first and see what you wanted to do. It's your decision. I'll back you up and tell Mommy whatever you want.
She decided that she would like to see both of us. Her compromise was that she would spend the afternoon with BioMom but wanted to be Home in time for dinner. The paperwork states that BioMom is to return her by 5pm on these Elective Days, so Her request should be easy to honor.
I was present for the conversation with Hubby so I was clear on what Cinderella wanted. She was worried about talking with her Mom last night. Husband wasn't Home yet from work.
Will you talk to Mommy if I need you to? Because, Mommy... well ... you know. You can back me up.
Sure, Babe. I can back you up.
I emerge from putting The Mouse to bed and see She is on the phone.
As soon as she sees me, Cinderella's mind immediately whisks her to the issue at hand and she interrupts Her mother.
Mommy? What time did you want to pick me up tomorrow?
She looks at me... Between 11-11:30?
Mommy? What time...? Umm... I want to be Home in time for dinner so can you bring me back by 5-5:30?
Again, She looks at me... How about 5:45?
Cinderella, if you want to be home for dinner then you will need to be back at 5pm.
Mommy? Umm... They eat dinner early because of The Mouse so I have to be Home by 5pm.
Ok. Mommy? What's wrong?
I could tell by the abrupt ending of their conversation that BioMom was not happy with losing the negotiation. A negotiation that I later found out she had, and lost, with Husband yesterday afternoon. Yet BioMom thought she could negotiate with Me. The very person she feels does not have the right to have these kinds of conversations with Her daughter. (The Oxymoronic tendencies of this Woman are astounding!)
This was a Huge step for Cinderella. I'm proud of Her.
She is learning to overcome her fear of speaking up for Herself.
I hope today turns out to be a good day for Her. I hope BioMom doesn't make Cinderella feel bad for requesting to come Home.
Only time will tell.
In the meantime Husband and I can only continue to back her up, so she will one day develop the confidence to not back down.
Monday, November 6, 2006
Thursday, November 2, 2006
Despite all of this, there is still left-over candy.
The numbers on my scale won't permit any further midnight binges, so thanks to the great advice over at Parent Hacks on what to do with left-over candy, I was able to occupy my morning with some productive crafting instead of filling my face with more chocolate.
The Boy is allergic the peanuts. It turns out, that our postman isn't. That's a win/win right there!
I thank you, Parent Hacks.
My waistline and teeth thank you.
And my mailman thanks you too.
*How much you ask? Well, let's just say enough to cause 6lbs in 2 weeks. Ack!
Monday, October 30, 2006
Now, that's not fair to say. You don't really know her.
Yes I do. She's Cinderella's Mom.
Suddenly we realized that The Boy has witnessed more than he should with regards to
This day he was in the back seat of the car while Hubby was talking* on the phone with her about the latest and greatest drama.
(*Being yelled at is more like it and The Boy heard every word because Malificent's voice isn't very... umm... soft and delicate like that of a lady.)
In our efforts to shield Cinderella from the tumultous relationship between her Parents, we neglected to take The Boy into consideration.
He's too young to understand or care. Malificent is of no consequence to Him so we don't need to worry about Him.
Wrong. We're such Ninnies.
Malificent may not matter to Him, but We matter. The Boy has been witness to one-too-many heated discussions both with and about Her throughout most of his Life. (Man, this bullshit has gone on for.far.too.long.)
He doesn't like what's he's seen.
He doesn't like seeing Mommy and Daddy upset.
He knows when Malificent is the cause of this stress and disharmony and sees its affect on our delicate family structure.
Now is where our Parenting Skills are put to the ultimate test. Where we must put aside our personal feelings for this Witch and help our son preserve a positive impression of his Sister's Mother.
We validate what he already knows.
Yes, Daddy and Malificent sometimes argue. And yes you have heard Malificent yell at Daddy. But they are trying their best not to argue. Sometimes grown-ups make bad choices when they are upset.
We try an defend her actions as best we can. Both for his and Cinderella's sake. The last thing we want is for The Boy to express this sentiment to Cinderella.
Malificent loves Cinderella very much, just like Daddy does.
We remind him that he must be Respectful. Remind him that Cinderella loves her Mom very much and he musn't say bad things about her. We point out that Malificent is always nice to Him and he needs to try to remember his manners.
Yes, but she is not nice to Daddy.
She is trying. We all are.
At that point I wanted to pick up the phone and unleash years of pent-up anger and hostility because now her poison was seeping further into our Family and affecting my son.
You goddamn selfish Witch are you happy now? Will you not stop until each and every member of my family grows to hate you and needs therapy just like the rest of us?!?!?! CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?!?!?
But I knew better. I knew it would do nothing to help matters.
Hubby and I feel like shit for letting this happen. For letting this vile woman touch our son's emotions in such a negative way. We feel irresponsible; as if we haven't respected him as an important member of the family who needs protecting from this situation.
Hubby and I vowed to each other to be more diligent in shielding ALL of the children from the unpleasantries of our wounded relationship with Malificent.
More diligent towards getting along.
Commited to making things work.
Please excuse Wicked Stepmom's recent absence over the past several weeks. You see, she's been suffering from a bit of writer's block.
(Not for lack of things to write about. Her Blogger Dashboard currently has about 1/2 dozen drafts because WHOOBOY! there's plenty going on-and not just in the Stepmom arena-which will hopefully prove useful to those readers who continue to
(Which leads her to also wonder if she has done the right thing by defining herself as a Wicked Stepmom because she is so much more than that, but that's another post altogether. Oh JOY! Another draft to clog up her Blogger Dashboard!)
In case you were wondering, her lack of focus is due in part of being off her happy pills. This was purely unintentional and more a combination of (1) forgetting to call in the prescription in a timely manner and (2) lacking the moulah needed to pay for these out-of-pocket because, yes, she is still without adequate health coverage.
Thankfully some relief is in sight and she hopes to get back on some regular posting schedule post haste and promises that she is working hard at completing her make-up work.
Friday, October 27, 2006
[Like on our livingroom floor this night, the night of our Fifth Wedding Anniversary.]
Love hides in familiar faces.
[I am brought back to the night He proposed. We ate Burger King. He popped the question in our darkened bedroom lit only by the soft glow of Christmas lights in the windows.]
Love hides inside the rainbow.
[Or in this case, the glass of champagne! We're so cliche!]
Love hides in molecular structures.
[Or gets covered by them so I can't see the details DAMMIT so now I must chug the damn champagne already so we can get a closer look at the sparkly new bauble!]
Love is the answer...
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
A triple-threat that I knew nothing about until recently.
The Boy had/has all Three. Apparently that's not uncommon. I wish someone would have told me!
The Eczema appeared when he was an infant during his first winter. His legs showing the tell-tale scaly dry red patches. Thankfully it was mild. Easily controlled with liberal applications of Eucerin every night before bed. It's all but disappeared now. Last winter, his 3rd, it was undetectable.
The same might be true for his Peanut Allergy. Again, his reaction was mild and most likely just a sensitivity rather then a full-blown allergy but fuck if I'm going to test that out now. No sirree. I'll leave that to the professionals. An allergist. Just as soon as we get insurance.
Now we add Asthma to the Fun List of Chronic Ailments Designed to Rattle Mommies Already Too Fragile Mental & Emotional State.
A recent cold ended in an emergency weekend visit to his pediatrician and a diagnosis of Asthma. The trigger being the gobs of mucous created by his cold. Again, it seems to be mild like the others. I hope it stays that way.
We now carry and Epi-pen AND inhaler with a clunky mask attachment with us wherever we go.
That aforementioned bubble is looking more and more appealing with every passing day.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
His Words struck like a Sledgehammer deep within my chest. Crushing me and stopping me dead in my tracks. I couldn't go on. I was incapable of continuing with this battle-of-the-wills.
A battle forged over an unfinished bowl of Cheerios and an unfilled prescription of Happy pills.
I shut down at that moment. Dropping the phone and disconnecting from my desperate call for Help as much as from my Emotions.
This won't end well if I allow it to go any further.
The Boy has been picking up some very interesting phrases lately both from School and the Big Glowing Box. But these Words and this Thought were all his own. Realizing the power they had over me, he repeated it.
I don't like you! I don't want you to be my Mother anymore!
(Stop it. Stop it. Please just stop. I'll do anything by MY GOD please stop saying those words because they strike at the very heart of my Insecurities and my Guilt as a mother.)
Sticks and Stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me.
Bite me you big Stoopid DOODYHEAD. They do hurt.
Sunday, October 8, 2006
Tuesday, October 3, 2006
But I had kept my silence for too long. For too long I had tried to convince myself that things were not as they were. I shouldn't feel this way. It should be easier.
Thou shall not should on yourself.
That's what my therapist used to tell me.
Should causes guilt. Guilt causes anger. Anger causes more guilt.
I'd been stuck in this vicious cycle for years now and it was time to break free.
I owed it to myself. I owed it to my children. I owed it to Cinderella.
I knew that this would not be an easy conversation to have with Hubby. How does one go about telling their spouse that you need a break from their child? That your personalities do not mix and are causing you stress?
But the Truth was, I did. I needed to step back. Detach. Disengage from the responsibilities that had been thrust upon me.
Responsibilities that were assumed by myself as much as Hubby and BioMom.
I was feeling resentful over having these responsibilities. The resentment only intensified by the constant reminders that I have no Rights.
As a result I watched as our relationships suffered. Mine. Hubby's. Hers.
I couldn't cope. I was feeling too overwhelmed with trying to compensate for the guilt and anger while being a good Mother, Wife and StepMom.
I was losing the battle with my Emotions and my Family was suffering for it.
I'm telling you this as much for Cinderella as I am for myself.
I hoped Hubby would see that.
He was hurt and disappointed by my admission. I expected no less.
My request was not a Convenient one but it was honest. The most honest I had been with him regarding Cinderella. He was appreciative of my honesty. And like me did not want to create any undue stress on anyone.
He honored my request and made arrangements that provide Cinderella and I the distance we need.
I hope that taking this step back will help me to Step Up towards being the kind of Mom and Stepmom that I want to be. The kind that our Kids deserve.
Monday, September 11, 2006
I will never forget the character of the man behind them.
I will always remember your cheshire cat smile,
I will never forget your devilish wit.
I will always remember the deep rumble of your voice,
I will never forget your infectious little boy laugh.
I will always remember the warmth of your embrace,
I will never forget the depth of your sincerity.
I will always remember our faithful flirtations,
I will never forget your chivalrous charm.
I will always remember as I watched in horror and disbelief,
I will never forget as I learned of those you left behind.
I will always remember the first day I met you,
I will never forget the last time I saw you.
I will always remember, and I will never forget.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
I'm feeling slightly more protective of Him as of late. He shares a room with Cinderella who has a ferret so Hubby and I are more watchful these days. We don't want a repeat of the other night.
As I approach the top of his Bedroom Stairs I am met with an image I was not prepared to see...
An empty bed!
OH MY HELL… where is he? First a trip to the E.R. and now he’s MISSING???
Where could he be?
I check Cinderella's bed… nope. Not there.
Call 911… CALL 911! WHAT’S THE DAMN NUMBER FOR 911!!!
What’s that? Over there… on the other side of His bed.
Is that ... an... ARM?????
Why. Yes. It. Is.
I take another step further into his bedroom, and ...
I stand dumbfounded for a moment or two.
Sure, he's fallen out of bed before but usually with a THUMP! instantly followed by screaming. But tonight, there was Silence.
I head downstairs to call Hubby who has gone in to work for the night.
(Yes, I left The Boy asleep on the floor while I did this.)
When you put The Boy to bed tonight where was he?
In his sleeping bag.
Yes, but where was his sleeping bag?
On his bed. Why?
Ok. Well he's on the floor now. He and the sleeping bag must have slid right off his bed.
(Yes, Hubby has a twisted sense of humor.)
I hang up and head back upstairs not to return my slumbering child to the coziness of his bed but to Giggle as I take Photos to share with family, friends and the Internet!
(Oh, the sleeping bag? It was in the initial pictures but then I realized that it was covering the piles of toys beneath him so I removed it.)
(And, yes, I did eventually put him back in bed.)
My prison for the last 6 1/2 months.
The Mouse is too easily distracted to nurse anywhere else but here... within the confines of this rocking chair in her darkened room.
Click here to see more self-portrait challenges.
Monday, August 28, 2006
This is one of those moments that anyone who has ever had to leave their children with someone else experiences. The moment when you suspect that something isn't right.
The events of the day have left me painfully aware of the fragility of life. I try not to panic as I wait for Hubby to get off the phone.
He hangs up and relays the message from my Father-in-Law.
The Boy threw up three times this morning. He also said that he's a bit congested.
He's done this before. The Boy, having been blessed with my post-nasal drip, typically awakes with an upset tummy at the first onset of a cold.
My Dad says he's been fine since this morning.
We chalk it up as no big deal. We've been down this road many times before so there is nothing to worry about.
We have another hour left to our drive before we are Home.
The Boy and Cinderella spent the night at my in-law's so Hubby and I could attend a sudden-but-not-completely-unexpected-funeral.
They were both looking forward to a sleepover at Grandma's and Grandpa's.
As we get closer to Home, Hubby decides to drop me off so I can take care of The Mouse.
He returns an hour later.
The Boy fell asleep during the 20 minute car ride Home and has to be woken up to come inside.
He's still tired and irritable. I attribute his irritabiliy and lethargy to his presumed cold and from the excitement of the sleepover.
The Boy goes to lay down in his room and falls asleep again.
The next two hours he is restless. He wakes up each hour crying.
Hubby tends to him. Brings him water. Each time snuggles with him until he falls back asleep.
The Boy is crying again.
It's your turn.
Hubby is spending some time with Cinderella so I go to check on our Son.
Mommy can you snuggle with me?
His voice is weak.
I cozy up next to him and within moments he is back asleep.
It's then that I realize something is wrong. His breathing isn't right. The muscles in his neck and abdomen strain with each breath.
I call Hubby upstairs. He chalks it up to The Boy's nose being congested. But I
A Mommy always knows.
We call His pediatrician. We call my in-laws. We talk to Cinderella to find out more details about the onset of this cold.
He started coughing last night when he went to bed.
Cinderella tells us that they had slept in a room that was until recently occupied by Hubby's younger sister. A room that housed her and her pet rabbits. One of the rabbits was still in the room.
We remembered one year ago when The Boy had been playing with his Aunt's rabbit and then suddenly started coughing and rubbing his eyes.
We suspected there might have been a sensitivity brewing. Now we were certain of it.
When his pediatrician called back I described his symptoms and our theory on the rabbit.
Does he have a history of asthma?
Can you count his respirations while he is asleep?
(We counted 30 in one minute. )
That's a bit high. I am going to send you to the Emergency Room so he can get some help with his breathing. Tell them I believe he is having an Asthmatic Response brought on by an Allergy.
An Asthmatic Response?!?!
Brought on by an Allergy?!?!
A minor meltdown and a couple of "How can this be's" later we decide that Hubby will take Him to the E.R.
We don't know how long this could take and I need to stay Home in case The Mouse wakes up for a feeding.
I stand helpless as my Husband carries my sleeping Boy downstairs. I kiss him softly as he is brought to Hubby's car unaware of where he is going or what is happening.
Cinderella emerges from the family room and is visibly upset.
I stifle my tears to downplay the panic I am feeling over seeing my 4 year old being whisked away to an Emergency Room because of a stupid rabbit.
Will The Boy be ok?
Oh sure, Babe. The doctors will give him some medicine to make him feel better and he'll be home in a little bit. Why don't you head upstairs to bed now. It's getting late.
I kiss her goodnight all-the-while fighting back the tears and my panic.
I call my Mother.
I call my Neighbor.
I ramble to them aimlessley as I desperately try to pass the time and not think about how my Son is no doubt at the E.R. by now and is probably terrified and crying and screaming for Me and refusing treatment because he is so scared.
Forty five minutes later the phone rings.
Hubby tells me everything is fine and they are on their way home. The docs agreed with the Pediatricain's assessment and gave The Boy a nebulizer treatment and some oral medication to help his breathing.
When they arrived home five minutes later it was like nothing had ever happened.
Any possible fear or trauma from his experience at the Emergency Room was wiped away from the steroid treatment leaving us with a LOOPY four year old.
The Boy came into the house as if returning from a birthday party on a sugar-induced high complete with a GOODY bag.
(Since when do hospitals give out goody bags?)
I sat and watched as my over-stimulated Son described his experience with absolute glee ...
I had to breathe in blue smoke Mommy.
Daddy and I pretended it was a dragon!
And Mommy? They gave me medicine and I did NOT like that.
See? I spilled some of it on my shirt!
I do NOT like medicine Mommy!
And LOOK Mommy! I got crayons and toys and paper to draw on. See Mommy?
He spoke and walked in circles.
(Holy shit steroids are fun!)
After we tucked him in bed, I decided that if we encase him in a bubble and keep me heavily medicated all will be fine from here-on-out.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
- a late-night trip to the E.R.
- a missing child
- an inconvenient truth
- proof that vampires do exist
- a trip to the land of make believe
Will our heroine survive? Can the Internet handle the suspense?
Only time will tell.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Devil's Food cake made with Dunkin' Donuts French Vanilla (the only coffee served in our castle) and baked into the shape of a coffee cup!
(Get it?!?!? It's a COFFEE Cake.)
Note also how the candles look like steam rising from the ginormous cuppa joe.
And... AND!... see how I tinted the top frosting to resemble an "extra light with cream" coffee... just the way Hubby likes it.
Aren't I so clever?
Two birthday cakes down. Two more to go.
Cinderella's is tomorrow.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
Thanks to this blog I have learned to appreciate my own post-baby shape more and decided I was brave enough to participate in the Self-Portrait Challenge this month.
My shape used to resemble that of a pre-pubescent boy. I had no curves to speak of.
I once fit into a size 0 (yes, that would be a ZERO).
I had The Boy in 2002. I was 32.
I gained 40 lbs. He weighed 9lbs. 9oz.
I had The Mouse in 2005. I was 35.
Again I gained 40 lbs. She weighed 8lbs. 15 oz.
Both of my babies were brought into this world via c-sections.
Taken from the body that housed and protected them (and GREW THEM BIG) for 9 months.
My shape now is much softer. I have womanly curves where I once was nothing more than skin and bones. And boobs, I have BOOBS! (Well, kinda.)
I now wear a size 8.
This was my belly at 7 months pregnant with The Mouse.
This is my belly today. 8 months post-partum.
I like how my saggy skin, when smooshed together, looks like a baby's butt. :)
I now have the Shape of a Mother... and I wouldn't trade that for anything.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
"Hi. Thanks for calling. I'll keep it quick since I know you are on your way to get Cinderella and I have the Kids here with me."
She called me as she promised she would. The phone call was a week overdue but better late than never.
I had spent the last seven days being angry. Too angry to try to get things resolved myself. I was secretly hoping to avoid having to speak with Her altogether. Hoping that Hubby would be able to clear things up.
I realized that I needed to stop being an Ostrich so I seized the opportunity when she called the House that night. This had been festering long enough.
We needed to clear up the misunderstanding from last week.
A misunderstanding that started due to the poor communication skills of a borderline ADD 9 year old.
A misunderstanding that let to ASSumptions, an Accusatory voicemail and an Argument over speakerphone between she and Hubby while Cinderella and I sat dumbfounded over how something so simple could have escalated so easily.
"I think you have the wrong impression of me and I wanted to clarify since Cinderella left out some important details."
I told her that things were not as Cinderella had described. And that for whatever reason she hadn't communicated ALL of the facts to Her Mom.
She Appreciated the fact that I made the effort to clear the air. She Acknowledged that she had made a mistake. She Agreed to call me directly if something like this should ever happen again.
"In the future, all I ask is that you give me the benefit of the doubt. I'm really not that bad of a person once you get to know me."
I know you're not. Believe me.
I'm trying to Believe her.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
(Well, for 30 seconds anyway before I swallow it by accident!)
I am 4. I can stand up in the pool by myself.
(Well, until I slip and almost drown in front of you!)
I am 4. I want to use the big potty.
(And now pee all over the floor!)
I am 4. I am a big boy now.
I am 4. Give me a hug!
The last 4 days with The Boy have been magical.
Maybe it was the green frosting on his cake.
Friday, July 14, 2006
The month that I Love to Hate.
The month of never-ending Birthdays.
The month where I turn into Martha-fuckin-Stewart and get lost in a mess of batter, frosting and food coloring and proclaim NEVER AGAIN! WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?!?! HAVE I GONE COMPLETELY MAD!!??!!?? over-and-over for three weeks straight.
Tomorrow is The Boy's 4th birthday and he requested this for his cake.
The 25th is the Hubby's birthday. I have no idea what to do for him.
(He tells me that he does not like sweets, especially chocolate and yet will twirl the frosting from Entenmann's Fudge Iced Golden Cake around his fork into a GIANT spiral to savor the fudgy goodness all by itself.)
(I don't know either but if you figure it out clue me in, k?)
Cinderella's 10th birthday is the day after Hubby's and she is helping me make these.
The end of the month is when we will have our Combo Birthday BBQ in which I will wow our guests with this creation.
Yes, I am certifiable.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Thursday, July 6, 2006
Tuesday, July 4, 2006
The conversation that started it all.
The conversation that I began after months of knowing that Cinderella was going to a 1/2 day summer camp.
The conversation that I began knowing that it was being ASSumed by all [myself included] that I would be the elected driver.
I am SAHM. SAHM, I am.
The conversation in which I stuck up for my rights as a person who is worthy of more consideration than what was being given.
The camp drop off/pick up times fall right in the middle of The Mouse's morning and afternoon naps. Noone seems to have given that any thought. I would like You to have BioMom or someone else take care of transporting Cinderella since I can't do it.
If we were talking about The Boy you would do it. There wouldn't be a problem.
He was right.
Because... IF it were The Boy we were talking about we would would have decided on his summer plans together.
Because... IF it were The Boy we were talking about we would have considered the other two children and how/if they would be affected.
Because... IF it were The Boy we were talking about We would have shared the responsibility of transportation.
(As we did with His preschool but which somehow fell by the wayside and became my sole responsibility. But that's another story.)
Because... IF it were The Boy we were talking about there would have been no ASSumptions.
Because it's NOT The Boy we are talking about that this dilemma has surfaced.
Because noone thought to ask me and instead made assumptions.
I am SAHM. SAHM, I am.
The answer, dears, is NO you see.
I will not do it. You should have asked me.
I will not drive her here, nor there.
I will not drive her anywhere.
You were Wrong to think because I am SAHM.
That I can't say no. Because... Yes. I. Can.
Monday, July 3, 2006
Lazy? I don't think so.
I prefer to think of it as taking full advantage of modern technology.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Cinderella starts day camp in two weeks.
A camp that BioMom promised Cinderella she could attend this summer without discussing it with Hubby or Me.
A camp that BioMom had written into the custody agreement back in January to ensure Cinderella would go.
A camp that runs for 4 weeks, for only 4 hours a day and costs $1000.
A camp that Hubby was ordered to pay for half.
A camp that we cannot afford and now The Boy has lost out on any chance for summer activities.
A camp for which I was the ASSumed chauffeur.
This last fact evidenced by BioMom's response to Hubby asking if she can handle transporting Cinderella to and from our Home:
That's the job of a Stay-At-Home-Mom.
Is that what you think I do?
Yeah, you just get up go to Her room and kick the door.
Well, I do sometimes take The Mouse into her room and close the door quickly when she gets distracted and does not eat. But that's it.
He is staring at me confused by my response because it contradicts what he knows is the Truth.
I'm full of shit and we both know it.
Suddenly I saw myself as The Boy saw me and I didn't like what was being reflected.
I didn't want to be that Mother.
The Mother who yelled unspeakable things when she couldn't handle a little bit of stress.
The Mother whose kids sometimes described as being Mean.
The Mother who caused her kids to back away from her in fear.
The Mother whose kids felt the need to deflect her rage by offering unsolicited hugs and kisses.
To see myself through my son's eyes caused indescribable shame.
Shame over the fact that every time I lost my temper I was changing who He was.
Shame over the poor example I was setting.
Don't get frustrated. Ask for help if you need it.
I had given this advice to Him more than I had taken it.
The hypocricy of my words made me sick to my stomach.
I was becoming that Mother.
That all changed the day I sat down with Hubby and confessed my behavior and fear that I was suffering from post-partum depression.
The day when I called my OB office and walked out of there with a prescription.
That was almost three weeks ago.
With much fear, trepidation and a lot of encouragement I began taking those little blue pills. My happy pills.
And they are helping.
I am able to cope better,
(And anyone who has ever lived with a three year old knows that I am being tested. DAILY.)
I am becoming the Mother I want to be.
I don't yell as much. I am calmer. More relaxed. More patient.
Now when I look into my son's eyes I like what I see.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
If you are going to drive 2 hours from home without your wallet and only
1/2 tank of gas, remember to pack some supplies to ration when you have
to pull into a rest stop halfway home while you wait for your husband to
bring you gas money.
Chocolate makes everything better.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Grace Under Pressure.
That is me.
What would have been more impressive however is if I had actually utilized this ...
Oh. No. It's. Not.
In the back of my car.
Which is where I INGENIOUSLY put it in case I were to ever find myself WITHOUT one.
But wait! There's more!
The contents inside! Let's take a look-see.
Hmm... well whadd'ya know! Everything one could ever want in case one were to find themselves in an emergency situation such as, oh... I don't know... a leaking shitty diaper and no (apparent) diaper bag!
Diapers. Changing Pad. Extra Clothes.
Who would have thought that I could be so BRILLIANT?!
Obviously, I did at one point.
And then promptly forgot.
(I saw it while going out to get the mail late yesterday afternoon and I just happened to look into the back of my car.)
(Ok, I was actually looking at my reflection in my car windows because I have lost almost all of my pregnancy weight and we don't have any full length mirrors in the house and contrary to what The Hubby says I look damn good. Oh, Vanity They Name Is Woman. And your point is what? What I lack in brains I will happily make up for in looks.)
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Failure to bring said diaper bag along with you for the five minute car ride to and from the preschool (because, really, what could happen in such a short amount of time???) WILL result in you having to place said baby face down on the front seat of your vehicle while you rummage through the glove compartment in the middle of the parking lot looking for extra Dunkin' Donuts napkins to wipe up baby shit while the child whom you have come to pick up exclaims how D.I.S.G.U.S.T.I.N.G. the poop is and how WRONG it is and you will just beg him to pleeaassee put on your straps and BE QUIET.
(And as you are rummaging through the glove compartment looking for napkins with your baby face down on the front seat, she begins speaking to you in her baby-grunt language as if to ask you, "What the hell, Ma?!?")
(There were but four... FOUR napkins, BTW)
And then in a moment of desperation you will take the VERY LAST Dunkin' Donuts napkin to push any remaining poop back INTO the diaper along with the napkin creating a make-shift dam to hold back any additional oozing of the poop until you can get home and clean up your baby the right way. With WIPES and a fresh CLEAN diaper for God's sake!
Monday, June 19, 2006
Had I made the right decision?
I barely know Her. And here I am leaving Her in my Home with my 6 month old while I pick up The Boy from Preschool.
She had been to my House once before. The week prior.
I've seen Her off and on over the past 6 months at the Breastfeeding Support Group offered at our local Hospital.
Her baby is a couple of months older than The Mouse.
Like me, She doesn't know many Moms in the area.
Like me, She saw a potential friendship budding and wanted us to get to know each other better. She had come over this day for Lunch and then an afternoon at the Park.
We hadn't had the chance to eat before I had to leave to get The Boy.
His school is only 5 minutes away. It'd be so nice to run in without being weighed down by a 16lb infant in a 10lb carrier.
Can I leave The Mouse with you while I run to pick up The Boy?
Sure! We'll be here.
She had just sat down on the living room floor to feed her Daughter.
Ok, I'll be right back.
I didn't think twice of my decision until I had turned off our block.
Was I being too trusting of this Stranger?
What if I misjudged Her?
Was this one of those I-Should-Have-Trusted-My-Gut-Moments that you see on TV? Where a distraught Mother is being interviewed because Her child has been abducted by someone She thought was totally trustworthy?
Or was I simply being Paranoid [as I have been apt to do since Her Birth]?
I found myself going through the what-if scenarios and then second guessing myself. Confused over how to differentiate between my Gut and simple Paranoia.
What If I come home and her Car is not there? I don't even know what kind of car she drives. I looked at it as I pulling out of my driveway but did not commit anything but the color to memory.
I'd be a terrible eye witness.
She had just suffered a miscarriage a few months earlier. Two days prior had been nuzzling The Mouse when the Group of us met at the park. She kept telling me how much she missed having a Baby to nuzzle.
What if she takes my baby to replace the one she lost?
I've watched way too much Lifetime TV over the years. Made-for-TV-movies fueled my Paranoia.
Do I turn back and take the Mouse with me?
How do I explain my sudden return without offending a potential new friend?
Do I keep going?
How do I forgive myself if something were to happen? For ignoring what I shrugged off as Paranoia but what was in actuality Maternal Intuition?
How in the hell can you tell One from the Other?!?
When I came home everything was I had left it. The Mouse was still in her exersaucer because my Friend was afraid of taking the liberty of picking Her up [even though she admitted to wanting to, because HELLO? Have you ever seen my child?].
I confessed my little conflict to Her.
She was not offended. She understood completely about a Mother's fears.
You left so quickly that I was going to offer to wait outside while you were gone.
She felt the same uneasiness as I did.
I felt reassured.
And yet I still felt guilt over not erring more on the side of caution if for no other reason than to spare myself the stress and anxiety in leaving my child with not-quite-a-Stranger-but-almost-Friend.
Thursday, June 8, 2006
8pm. I am nursing Her in her room before putting her down for the night.
We are gently rocking to Brahm's Lullaby as we do every night. It's our little ritual.
I stop rocking for a minute. The room however does not stop. It continues to rock.
What the hell?
The dizzy spell is brief but disturbing. The lights are dimmed so I wonder if it was just that my eyes weren't focusing properly.
It happens again.
I then remember the label on the bottle of my little blue pills.
Possible Side Effects: Dizziness.
Well, this is fun.
I realize that I still have to get The Mouse into Her crib.
I linger in the rocker as I wait to see if the dizziness will return while mapping my route to the crib scouting out every available flat surface in case I need to grab hold of something along the 3ft trek to her bed.
The dizziness does not return and The Mouse is put safely to bed for the night.
I am feeling sleepy.
Possible Side Effect: Drowsiness.
I retire to the bedroom. It's too early for me to go to sleep. The Mouse will need a Dream Feed around 11pm. So I put on the TV for company.
9pm. A rumbly in my tumbly and not of the Silly Old Bear kind.
Possible Side Effect: Nausea.
Hot damn, drugs are fun!
The nausea lasts for about an hour before I drift asleep. My internal clock wakes me around midnight for The Mouse's final feed of the night.
Monday. 9pm. No dizziness, but OH! the nausea.
Tuesday. 6:30am. Pounding headache, nausea AND vomitting.
I begin thinking this isn't worth it. If this is how I am going to feel, I'd rather just be depressed, or stressed or anxious, or WhateverTheHellItIs that I am.
Thursday. 11:30pm. The side effects are diminishing. I haven't had any nausea for two nights and no dizziness since Monday.
But I am tired. Oh, so tired.
And I am waiting.
Waiting for the more pleasant side effects to come.
Tuesday, June 6, 2006
A nervous twitch brought upon by my penchant for hiding around corners and jumping out in an attempt to scare the bejesus out of them.
I get the most Sadistic thrill out of this.
I know, I am EVIL.
But then every now and again I am reminded that one good turn deserves another.
It's been noted before that The Boy ... umm... prefers my company.
This day, as he does every day, he follows me downstairs for the millionth time.
Bored of the Lets-Shadow-Mommy-Everywhere-She-Goes Game I decide to shake things up a bit. I have enough of a head start to reach the bottom of the stairs first and partake of a little Hide 'N
I find the perfect spot. Under the desk. In the darkened office.
I giggle to myself as I take my spot and imagine his face as he comes into the office to look for me when I suddenly lunge at him from beneath his father's desk.
And yet, I giggle to myself. Giggle with the uncontrollable giddiness of a catholic school girl in church.
This is gonna be good.
The Boy reaches the bottom of the steps.
I can feel my excitement bubbling up.
He walks towards the office door.
My heart races, my stomach tenses. I try to stifle my giggles.
He'll never suspect.
15 minutes later, I am still under the desk. Stiff neck. Sore knees. Aching back. No longer giggling.
The Boy, having been sucked into the mesmerizing glow of the boob tube and whisked away to Bikini Bottom has forgotten the whole reason why he had followed me downstairs in the first place leaving me crouched under a desk, in the dark, like a loser.
An sad, pathetic, instant-karma's-gonna-get-you LOOZ-AH.
Saturday, June 3, 2006
Such a pretty blue.
The color of my eyes.
Robin's Egg Blue according to my Mom.
A tranquil calming color.
This is what they are supposed to do.
Calm my stress, bring some relief to whatever-it-is that I'm experiencing.
Instead they are causing me more anxiety.
Frightened of taking them and of not taking them.
Which is worse?
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
(Or maybe it was Hallmark.)
I try to remember this as I challenge myself to Keep the Peace with Maleficent. To keep us all communicating for Cinderella's sake.
It's not easy.
It took us 7 years to get to this point, it will take more than 7 months to overcome it.
[Maleficent seems to be having an even harder time breaking the habits of her bad behavior as evidenced by some recent events which resulted in a heated phone call with Prince Charming last night but that's a whole other post.]
I'm not at the point where I'm ready to invite her in for a cup of coffee. I don't know if I will ever Trust her enough for that.
Maybe one day. But not this day.
For now I'm taking Baby Steps.
Like informing Maleficent on all of the "girl talks" I have had with Cinderella. She is almost 10 and oh-so-curious about these things called bras, tampons, and...yeah... O.R.G.A.S.M. I make sure I let Maleficent know every detail, so she doesn't feel left out.
I offered to put pretty photos that I have taken of Cinderella over the years on a CD for Her.
I asked Her to copy home movies of Cinderella on to DVD, as a surprise for Prince Charming. I have never seen Cinderella as a Baby and Hubby's VHS movies are packed away somewhere. Maleficent agreed to do it without hesitation.
I've complimented Her role as an early-childhood educator and asked Her opinion on Hansel's preschool. I firmly believe that, next to parenting, teaching is one of the most important jobs a person can do and I wanted her to know that.
I included Maleficent on my list of things-to-by-at-the-craft-store for my Mother's Day crafts, and helped Cinderella make the craft for her Mom. Cinderella loves crafting and what Mom doesn't appreciate homemade gifts?
I've bitten my tongue on more than one occasion. Like when She pointed out how commited she was to making things work for Cinderella's sake.
You should be committed is what I wanted to say.
"We're all committed," is what I did say.
I smile politely and make idle chit chat when she picks Cinderella up. I struggle to keep things friendly even though I am currently seething over the continued spitefulness.
One Foot in front of the other.
One Step farther away from the Past.
One Step closer to
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
[A blood vessel in my brain explodes.]
It says it here in my Book.
Cinderella proceeds to show me a series of cartoons in one of her "Let's Talk About Sex And Periods And Bras So You Can Wow and Amaze Your Parents Over Your Vast Knowledge Of These Subjects and Watch Them Squirm As You Attempt To Engage Them In A Conversation About It" books and one of them makes a reference to an orgasm.
So, what is It? What is an Orgasm?
[Again with that word! Why, OH WHY does she have to keep saying THAT WORD?? Can't She just point to it on the page and then giggle like any normal awkward pre-adolescent would do?!?!? She's not even 10 for Chrisakes!]
I proceed to explain to Her that an Orgasm is ... I have no idea what I said as the sound of my voice was suddenly drowned out by the cacophony of blood vessels exploding inside my own head.
[Actually, what I did tell Cinderella was that it's something that usually happens when two people are having sex and it's something that feels good. Whatever the Question I always try to give our children matter-of-fact age-appropriate answers no matter how badly their questions make me want to run from the room screaming. And thanks to this honesty they come to ME and not my Husband who actually does run from the room screaming.]