Spoiled Wifey Thanksgiving 2011

Our Menu:
Salted Roast Turkey with Herbs and Shallot-Dijon Gravy
Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Garlic and Pancetta
Green Beans with Chives
Cranberry Sauce
Leek and Wild Mushroom Stuffing
Mashed Potatoes
Rolls
Pumpkin, Pecan, & Cherry Pies from Heidelberg Bakery

In all of our married Thanksgivings, this year was the first that we had both of our parents here to celebrate and to feast. That in itself was special, especially considering that both moms had major health scares earlier this year. My Mother-in-Law decided on the menu and generously provided our dinner. Not only did she brave the grocery store for all the ingredients on Wednesday, she did most of the cooking, too. My parents played with the kids. I got to sleep, my favorite indulgence of late. I wish I slept for pure indulgence but that really wasn’t the case. I was unfortunately recovering from a particularly nasty cold/virus and feeling extremely rundown. Sleeping was a necessity. I think Hubby was in the Man Cave for most of the day but he did spend some time in the kitchen, too to help out his Mom.

To keep the Boy amused and to limit whining, one of the kid activities was a Dinosaur Skeleton Excavation Kit, which I think is designed to kill any dream of becoming a real paleontologist and to vex any mother who attempts to keep a clean house. The activity involves sawing away at a block and brush away debris until bones are revealed. Supposedly, there is an entire dinosaur skeleton that can be assembled. Gamie, Hubby and I all had our turn with the young wannabe paleontologist, made a huge mess in the process, and at the time of this posting have only discovered three bones, which are already misplaced. This activity did keep him out of the kitchen and out of our hair for awhile, so I begrudgingly must deem it a success, despite creating more work for myself with cleanup.

During their visit, Grandpa got to play Santa, bringing joy and gifts to our family by funding Grandma’s shopping habit. My mother is an emotional, recreational shopper and is addicted to the high of a good sale, regardless if she/we need it. (I have been trying to reverse my own aimless, shopping-for-entertainment trend for years.) Thankfully, along with my Dad’s intervention, my pleading over the years that I really don’t need any more stuff in my house and that I will only dispose of her gifts , not to mention we don’t have the same style in just about anything, I have finally gotten my message through to curb her shopping generosity towards me.

However, Grandma shopping for her grandkids is a different story. She wanted to direct her energy toward fulfilling my shopping list for the kids, which I find perfectly acceptable. Is it not their job to spoil the grandkids? And isn’t one of my job duties to counteract the spoilage? The kids were SPOILED all week with toys, and more importantly time and attention. Grandma and Grandpa attended the school book fair with the Boy before the holiday break and showed only enthusiasm as he brought a tower of books to the checkout line. Meanwhile, I’m in the background, breaking into a sweat from calculating how much that tower of books is going to set him back. Grandma outfitted Little Girl with socks, socks, and more socks and a new pair of shoes. She gave me only a mild titter when she saw the price tag - $29 for shoes (the most darling pair of Robeez!) but then couldn’t resist to also give me a lecture on how I have expensive tastes. I sighed internally and just smiled. I said nothing but thank you.

I enjoyed spending Thanksgiving with my parents and Mother-in-Law for their company but because they spoiled me, too. I always had a clean kitchen when I woke up in the morning. Someone took the dogs out in the morning. Someone rushed to the nursery at the slightest whimper. Someone read, read, and read some more to Little Boy. Someone let this Mommy sleep, sleep, and sleep some more. My Dad commented that I took a long time getting ready in the mornings—I did disappear for at least 45 glorious minutes – a long shower followed by applying lotion to my body, blow-drying AND styling my hair, and *gasp* applying makeup. I looked and felt terrific. I am rested and almost recovered from the cold, so much so I may just be ready to face Christmas, all its merriment, and my duties of creating magic.

My Mother is Waging a War Against Dog Hair and is Currently Holding Steady

I have admitted defeat when it comes to dog hair in my home. My mother has not.

My parents arrived a few days ago and my mother, upon realizing her precious granddaughter was crawling and doubling as a sweeper, immediately issued a search and destroy order on all things on the floor, mainly the @$#%@$% dog hair. Although there is no need to search. The hair is here, there, and everywhere!

It’s not that I don’t try to engage the combatant dog hair. I do sweep, just not daily. I have recently determined that daily sweeping is necessary, but I have made peace with the fact that I will not actually sweep as required. Furthermore, I have accepted that I have dogs who shed, who I alternately love and hate, and who are part of our family dynamic and therefore cannot be “accidentally locked out”, “lost” on a walk, or advertised as “great with children”.

We deal with dog hair. We don’t wear black. We shake out everything and/or use a hair remover roller before stepping out of the house. I am trying to get into a routine of combing the dogs outside on a semi-regular basis. I have bought stock in Swifter.

Now back to my Mother. As I type this, I spy her walking around my living room, completely engrossed in her mission, once again sweeping up hair for the third time today. I do appreciate her efforts. I really do. I just don’t make the time nor have the desire to constantly sweep what I consider a losing battle. I want clean but not at the expense of my time to do other things. So I engage in battle every other day, or when I can’t stand the sight of it, or I know I have company coming over.

When will I develop the zen of cleaning? It seems a lot of older women have this calm about them when it comes to cleaning. My grandmothers, my mother, and my mother-in-law tap into their inner resolve and this unbelievable energy reserve to clean, especially when they are at my house (And seriously my house is not a pigsty. I do clean, but I won’t ever pass a white glove inspection. I follow the philosophy of “Good Enough” and “Out of Sight, Out of Mind” ). Maybe it’s an unspoken but understood job duty of motherhood. Mothers, once they are on visiting status, help out their grown children by cleaning. Hmmm….I don’t know, but I’ll take it. My workload seems lighter and life on the Home-front seems so much easier when my mother or mother-in-law visits.

However, on the flipside, my mother’s quest for cleanliness is sometimes very dangerous. She now has had two skirmishes that could have been catastrophic for the family. The latest comes on Day 1 of her visit. The whole house slumbered while she stayed up to attack the kitchen. She cleaned the stovetop and then thinking she had won went to bed. Somehow the pilot light on the gas stove went out. I woke up in the middle of the night to tend to Baby Girl and was immediately assaulted with the smell of gas. Hubby re-lit the pilot light. Crisis averted. I hate to think what would have happened if we had an undetected gas leak all night.

My Mom deserves a medal and accolades for her determination and focused concentration against the enemy. Today the battle against dog hair has been won. But tomorrow, who will admit defeat and who will stand victorious? Hair or hair-free?

Sometimes My (In)Ability to Leave My Own House Amazes Even Me!

We just returned yesterday from a “weekend getaway” to New York for a family gathering. The family, aka The Filipino Nation, was gathering to mark the one-year anniversary of the passing of my grandmother. This was the first introduction of Baby Girl to the family, currently the newest member of the clan (although soon to be edged out by another great grandbaby due in March). Little Boy was extremely excited to play with his cousins. And Hubby was actually gracing us with his presence (It’s usually me & the kids at family gatherings since we are almost always travelling great distances and I have all the time in the world.).

I’m currently avoiding the unpacking.

Parents of young children know that going anywhere with children in tow usually requires planning and strategy. It really sucks if you are not a good planner or strategist. I’m not saying whether I’m good or bad, as my skills just depends on my mood, energy level, and time required. While I was excited about this trip, I was not excited about packing for it. Inevitably, because we were driving, I packed the entire house!

My packing list:
• Clothes for me & the children for 2 days (Hubby is on his own for packing.)
• Toiletries (And I STILL forgot to pack the Boy’s toothbrush. Yes, I know I can buy a new one, but it’s the time & money involved. It’s always the little expenses that will get you!)
• Diaper bag & Restocking Supplies
• Baby Food & all related items: spoons, bibs, sippy cups
• Items to Keep Baby Warm, Happy & Entertained: toys, teether, blankets
• Pack N Play
• Stroller
• Snacks & Juice for the car
• Toys, Books, Entertainment (iPad) for the Boy
• Reading Material for me on the off chance I actually get ANY time to myself to read. (Woo Hoo! I did get about 15 minutes to myself to read a few pages of the latest Oprah magazine.)

I also had to set up my GPS, make sure I had all contact information, and get my dogs situated. The dogs are almost just as much work as the kids. I used a pet-sitting service and couldn’t be more pleased. But still had to gather some items for the petsitter.

Add the laundry pile before the packing, and packing literally took me an entire day. Gone are the days of spontaneity. I don’t get too bent out of shape if I don’t have everything I need. I am a Mom; therefore, I can make do. “Mommy-Make-Do” is a great skill to have!

In the end, all the packing and preparation was in fact worth it, as our trip was “fun”. We survived with minimal fighting or tears (Me, that is!) My son was so happy. My daughter was not too fussy and was fascinated with the many new faces of family as she was passed around. My parents were thrilled to see their grandkids and to show them off to the rest of the family.

It will take me at least half a day to unpack from the latest adventure!
But I'm happy to be back home. Memories have been made. Cleaning needs to be done. I'm right on track for the mommy track. Ha!

SHE POOPS!!! Alternate Title: I Praise the Power of Prunes.

I never realized how much of my life would include dealing with shit! Literally.

We are at the baby stage in which one of my primary job duties is poop analysis: consistency and frequency. (And of course, there is poop clean-up, but that’s not really a stage, it’s a never-ending duty.) Little girl has been eating solids for the past two weeks. We started with rice cereal and applesauce and then moved to vegetables. Her favorite food thus far has been carrots.

Since she is the second child, I am much more relaxed about keeping track of things, one of which is the frequency of her bowel movements. Right from the get go, her regularity has been spaced out by days. So I was not surprised nor alarmed when she had not done her business in a few days. But then, extreme crankiness descended upon the house. Clearly, my little one felt very uncomfortable. Hmmm….after mentally reviewing the “what’s-wrong-with-baby” checklist, I noted that perhaps my preciousness might be constipated. She was not necessarily inconsolable, but definitely letting me know that she was not happy. The usual comforts from Mom were not cutting it.

So we had a series of bad nights of a lot of crying and restless sleeping….and that was just me. Ha! No seriously, she was up a lot. Midnight bath and tummy massage did temporarily relieve the pressure build-up and did allow for some sleep for both of us. I called the pediatrician’s office for advice on at home remedies as well as to make an appointment if those did not correct the problem. The nurse recommended apple juice and prunes. And if that did not solve it, then a glycerin suppository. I really hoped it did not come down to that.

Happily she sucked down apple juice for the first time. And prunes? Why they are delicious. Thank you, Mommy. Now I praise the power of prunes. I did not have to wait for long for the prunes to work its magic. Later in the afternoon, albeit it was an effort for her as conveyed with some very angry crying, she passed what can only be described as a golf ball of poop. Her bowel movement was the size of a golf ball and just about as hard. No wonder little girl was mad.

This is how I know I unabashedly embrace parenthood. I considered taking a picture and sending it the Hubby. I didn’t! I just thought about it. Instead I did give a full report to the Hubby which I’m sure made his day in between emails, meetings, and briefings.

But there is a cautionary note to this as well. Beware of prune power! Because apparently, I overloaded little girl with a little too much prunes. Her body obviously tried to self-correct its system. I had to deal with not one, but two blowouts soon thereafter the golf ball incident.

I haven’t decided which is worse – constipation crankiness or blowout battles that make me want to don on protective gear, throw everything out in a hurry, and dunk her in the bathtub.

For the time being, I do now have a happy girl. I am monitoring her poop schedule a little more closely as well as her diet. It’s the first bout of many, I’m sure.

He barely looked back at us as he climbed onto the school bus today.

Waiting in the rain at the bus stop.

The whole family is here. In a blink, she'll be ready for this day all too soon for this mama!

Only looking back because we are calling to him.

He barely looked back at us as he climbed onto the school bus today.

I’m happy that he is excited for kindergarten.

I’m sad that my baby boy is growing up and every day he needs his mama less and less.

I remind myself, especially on this milestone morning, that my reward as a mom is to raise an INDEPENDENT child, and it's the culmination of these little milestones that gets him ready to walk out the door and face the world, one day completely on his own. I want him to know that he is loved unconditionally. I want him to face the beauty and the ugliness of the world with his eyes open and with the ability to navigate through it all to the other side of a life well lived.

This mama just needs to breathe and let go a little. The world is not out to get him. Letting him get on the bus was a huge act of faith for me that everything will be alright, that this community will take care of him, that he is prepared to follow the gingerbread men to his classroom, that he will be kind and friendly to others, that he will make friends easily, that he will not get picked on.

I am also accepting that I will not know every little detail of what will happen to him in a day. I will not get a daily report from his teachers. What was said? What was he reaction? Was he an instigator? What made him nervous? Or embarrassed? Or joyful? What did he think was funny?

So as his sister naps and I have a few minutes of solitude, I wonder what he will tell me today when he comes home from school. What will he take away from today? Is today glorious and let’s do it all again? Was today overwhelming? Was it just another day? I am looking forward to seeing my Little Man soon. Deep breath. He will find his way home without mommy intervention.

On the other hand, I am not so serious as to not enjoy my new found freedom (at least while the Baby naps). I have already had a Starbucks run, uploaded photos, talked to friends, scheduled a long overdue Mommy coffee for this Friday, cleaned my kitchen, made my dinner & shopping lists for the week, fed my child, and hung out on Facebook. And the list continues into the afternoon but I am just taking a few minutes to reflect, to pause, to enjoy this milestone morning of mine.

I Need To SELF-MEDICATE with a Binge of Chocolate Chip Cookies & Beer! Alternate Title: When Life with Young Kids is Exhausting & Unsatisfying

My Brain is fried. Only works in fragments, short bursts, and with To Do lists.

My Patience is worn thin. The child has broken my Spirit and my Cool several times today and it’s not yet dinnertime. The most common phrase in this household today: “Leave your Sister Alone.” (Small blessing: He loves her so much. Unfortunately so much that he is always in her face kissing her and kissing her AND kissing her. Kissing her while I’m nursing. Um, yeah it’s annoying. Kissing her while I’m changing her diaper. Um, yeah it’s annoying. ) Also, he has selective hearing and a strong will of his own. Apparently in his mind, all instructions and directives are optional until said a 4th time. I think maybe on the 4th time, our voice not only carries the sound of irritation and exasperation but the vein starts bulging out.

I’m not saying the Baby is manipulative…..yet. But if she is awake, she is fussing to be held. Hubby thinks I have spoiled her and that I hold her too much. However, listening to her cry when my patience is already thin with the Boy really isn’t an option. So into the baby carrier she goes. I’d rather ruin my back than listen to a crying baby. (I’m currently typing one-handed as she is in my other arm.)

I hate to think that battle lines are drawn. It’s us versus our children. Aren’t we suppose to be on the same team? But Hubby & I are frazzled. You can hear it in our voices. We are about two temper tantrums away from turning on each other. We are tired of taking turns, giving each other a break. This life is exhausting no matter how you look at it. I suppose that’s the nature of this stage. And I tell myself this whining, this crying, this sleep deprivation is just a stage. We are about to turn the corner. But are we really?

Right now it’s relatively calm. The Baby is happily sitting with me. The Boy is happily playing downstairs in his overstocked toy room. The Hubby is putzing around the house. I am regrouping with my writing rant (Writing = Therapy) before I start dinner. I am also trying to not look around the house which is in its usual state of disaster.

No one ever wants to admit that sometimes being locked up in a small white room by yourself would be blissful. Imagine the silence. Imagine the clean white walls. Just Imagine. But I know I’d last about 15 minutes, ok, more like 30 minutes before I start missing my children, before I start wondering what they are doing, before I want to see them and kiss them. At least that’s what happens to me when I do get a break, like this morning when I was getting my nails done. 30 minutes later I was texting Hubby for an update.

My children are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I am just tested daily about my worthiness as a parent. Yes, I wish I didn’t find some days so difficult. Yes, I can admit that some days, or a string of days, are much harder than others. Yes, I have accepted the fact that I will always love my children, I just won’t always like what they do. I have accepted that my children won’t always like what I do either (Hopefully, if I am fortunate, they will love me even through the difficult days.). And that’s ok to admit.

At the end of a difficult day, I self-medicated with 30 minutes of mindless exercising on the treadmill until the sweat and endorphins kicked in. As much as I want the cookies and beer, I’d like to keep up with my Kiddos and figured I can’t be weighed down. I’d like to have this parenting gig for a long time, at the very least until I see my grandchildren (also known as Payback).

Adventures with Cristin & Val: Playing Tourist

Oh I had good intentions to write about our weekly adventures. I was too tired to write because Life is full. Anyway, it has been weeks and weeks and here now it’s the middle of the summer. I had the kiddo enrolled in 6 weeks of back-to-back day camps: church camp, dinosaur camp, pirate camp. We have a lot of artwork to show for it, too which will soon be gracing our walls.

And now the real fun starts, every day, all day, for the next 8 weeks I have my little ones. Yes, I have counted. There is one family vacation getaway and one family visit in there, which should break it up a bit. But I will need all my creative powers and a good’s night rest to keep us all entertained and engaged for the summer (within budget!), while also pursuing my own interests (reading/writing, fitness certification, adult conversation, and a lot of refreshing summer cocktails).

Thank goodness my good friend Cristin has re-entered my life. We are both at the same life stage right now (Read: Stay-at-home Mamas) and meet up once a week with our kids for companionship and to play tourist. It helps that she lives a mere 5 miles from me. While I like meeting new people and making friends, I’d rather connect/reconnect with people who have been in and out of my life and spend my time strengthening those friendships that we have a history. Cristin and I met when we were 18 years old, lived in the same dorm (Go PE Pyros!), and were in AFROTC together. I love that we have a shared history. Since I move around so often and my life and my relationships are disrupted so frequently, I definitely hold on to my friends.

I find at this stage in my life, I value my time so much more. How I chose to spend my time and energy, especially my ME time that is so limited, is so precious. I like to maximize my joy and happiness (Who doesn’t?!). Hubby has been calling me a Hedonist lately. Which I very well may be, but I find I “splurge” a lot for my me time. And frankly, I find nothing wrong with that. Now if I’d only try those things, even if I have to do it by myself, that I think will bring me joy! (Read: SALSA lessons!)

And of course, I am off on a tangent. So back to Cristin and my weekly adventures. We knocked off a few things off my Play-Tourist-in-DC list. We attended the annual National BBQ festival in downtown DC. As usual we underestimated travel times, crowds, and babies’ temperaments. We took the bus to the event and my poor baby girl showed everyone what healthy lungs she has. I’m sure that was really a lot of fun for my fellow passengers. Thankfully, most people appeared to be unfazed as I had most people near us making funny faces at her. As soon as we exited the bus, we found a bench and I nursed her. Give me a bench and a nursing cover and let’s go!

The BBQ Fest was fun if you like long lines. Actually, I would have had fun if I could have had unlimited beer and didn’t have to two children to tend to, then standing in line wouldn’t be so intolerable. My 5-year old didn’t give a damn about BBQ and most certainly would not stand in line without whining. So Cristin, her husband and I took turns hanging out in the LOUDEST tent at the event – the LEGOS tent – with kiddo while the rest of us stood in line for beer & bbq.
We did score some free Oscar Mayer hot dogs and a picture.

My friends look happy. Thank god they are easygoing. Kiddo’s face is more accurate about how we all felt about the day. (Where is my Hubby? He stayed at home, enjoying his precious Me time.)

I have been talking up the boat ride on the C&O Canal to the kiddo for the past two weeks in Georgetown. This summer might turn into a big scouting party of all the DC sites. So we actually got ourselves there but didn’t actually take the boat ride. Parking is nightmarishly expensive in that area. ($10 first hour, $18 unlimited in a parking garage). We both found street parking (A quarter gets you 7.5 minutes or $4 for the maximum 2 hours), but our timing was off to enjoy the boat ride. Our parking meter would have expired while we were on the hour boat ride. So instead we walked around and “explored.” As you can imagine, the kiddo was very disappointed to not ride the boat and didn’t give a damn about parking meters. But as we are starting to explain the value of money and choices to him, I explained that if we got a parking ticket (which I’m sure would be exorbitant) then we wouldn’t have any money to buy Legos.

We did walk along the canal where we met a very precocious boy named Christopher who was fishing. He offered my kiddo bread to feed to the ducks and fish. Kiddo was fascinated by this for awhile. We also walked to the National Harbor for a great view and a drink. So….next time, we know better…we will pay the outrageous fee for parking but not have a time limit while we enjoy the Canal and Georgetown.