My friend Charles wrote this book and has since become a local celebrity (his fiance had something to do with that too). Last night I went to a reading he did at some bar in Bucktown. I am still deciding if I enjoyed myself.
Charles and I have known each other since high school. Had someone told me when I was 16 that he and I would still be friends over 10 years later I would have laughed. That seems to be the way it is with any of my "old" friends. Charles and I met in the early 90s when 90210 was still on and we were trying to pretend that Evanston was as cool as Seattle. I am not sure what our bond was then, and I am less sure now. Regardless, we have managed to stay friends over they years. He is a phenomenal writer, and an amusing conversationalist so an evening with him is always interesting.
I don't know if it is because I go to gallery openings and can only relate to things that I saw on Sesame Street that morning, or if it is just that I am a moron that I become totally uninteresting in social settings. I try to have conversations, however I usually dismount with a story about one of the girls that either a) reflects poorly on my parenting, b) makes me sound like I am bragging about my kids, or c) deals with bodily fluids. I know that somewhere inside me I am intelligent. Hell, I have a college degree, I (try to)read a book a week, I used to teach high school for christ's sake! But I do lack in the witty repartee. Being around Charles somehow magnifies this by about a million.
I know what I do is important. I know that I am raising 2 ladies to be ladies. I am shaping the future of our world, blah blah blah. For some reason I feel like I need to justify being a SAHM. Maybe it is because the first question people ask is, "What do you do?" I wish I were more secure with answering with a resounding "I PARENT!" but I am not. I think it comes with pregnancy, when you start losing your mind and become kind of flighty, that people start to think that your brain has melted into mommyhood. If you stay home with the baby you are screwed because people stop trying to have intelligent conversations with you because you are incapable of it for the first 2 months of your baby's life. Once that has been removed from your day to day life it is hard to reestablish it. If I had to choose between staying at home with the ladies or going out into the world for intelligent conversation I would totally opt for the ladies. I mean what is better than trying to answer the question 'why' a million tines a day? I (think) that Charles doesn't judge me, and that he supports what I do, but I am never sure. I have never been sure of much with him.
So I sat at this reading, helping to fill out the audience. I enjoy when Charles reads to me, it reminds me of when we would sit on the phone in high school and he would try to pass off the work of Brett Easton Ellis as his own. There was an interim reader who read from Kurt Vonnegaut's Galapagos who had trouble pronouncing the word archipelago and for a minute I felt a little less unsure of my intelligence, but that was fleeting.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Tragically Unhip
So Friday night we had an outing sans kids to a hip downtown art gallery for the opening of a friend's show.
Due to my (not so) minor collision in the Ikea parking lot, I did not have enough time to try on and reject every article of my wardrobe and had to get dressed in a hurry. I thought I looked presentable (my hair was brushed and blow dried and I was not sporting any spit up, which is HUGE for me) until I got into the gallery.
I have never felt so uncool in my life. There were flirty summer skirts, strappy sandals, mod glasses, funky capris and tshirts, a long feather thing and a leather skirt to die for. My dirty Chucks made me feel like an imposter. What was I doing there? There were kids there, so I was eyeing the moms to see what they fished out of their closets, big mistake. Why did the woman with 4 kids (the youngest sleeping in her Mei Tei) look so fucking put together? How was she able to get 4 adorable moppetts out of the house and still look like she fell out of Vogue? How come I can't do that? Is it because I am not a size? (I really am not, I dare you to find pants that fit my waist without giving me too much extra fabric in the tush as well as something that covers my boobs without making me look like I am pregnant again) I had to drink 3 glasses of white wine and go mini golfing so that I could feel human again.
Due to my (not so) minor collision in the Ikea parking lot, I did not have enough time to try on and reject every article of my wardrobe and had to get dressed in a hurry. I thought I looked presentable (my hair was brushed and blow dried and I was not sporting any spit up, which is HUGE for me) until I got into the gallery.
I have never felt so uncool in my life. There were flirty summer skirts, strappy sandals, mod glasses, funky capris and tshirts, a long feather thing and a leather skirt to die for. My dirty Chucks made me feel like an imposter. What was I doing there? There were kids there, so I was eyeing the moms to see what they fished out of their closets, big mistake. Why did the woman with 4 kids (the youngest sleeping in her Mei Tei) look so fucking put together? How was she able to get 4 adorable moppetts out of the house and still look like she fell out of Vogue? How come I can't do that? Is it because I am not a size? (I really am not, I dare you to find pants that fit my waist without giving me too much extra fabric in the tush as well as something that covers my boobs without making me look like I am pregnant again) I had to drink 3 glasses of white wine and go mini golfing so that I could feel human again.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Paging Dr. Phil
Tim and I have not had an actual conversation in about a week.
I could sit here and tell you all the ways in which he is a total asshole, but I won't. I will try not to mention all the times that he has yelled at me this week, however I am still kind of pissed that he didn't even ask if everyone was ok when I called him about my (not so) minor fender bender in the Ikea parking lot. I will hold off on complaining about how dramatic he is being, lying on the couch with an arm draped over his eyes and sighing heavily at every chance he gets. I will avoid these things because I know he is sad.
Tim's parents have been married for 30 some odd years, and have dated since they were 15. They are now in the midst of a bizarre and endless separation. Tim had that childhood that everyone on the block talks about and shakes their heads at. His dad was never around, when he was he alternated between yelling and bringing home the most extravagant gifts for Tim and Kathy. Jerry spent many years building what is now a very lucrative business. The money that he earned cost him Tim's childhood (hence the expensive gifts), but not Tim's admiration and reverence, which is sad.
To hear Tim talk about his childhood is like listening to an abused wife. In his mind it was all Kodak moments and learning experiences, but when he talks tells stories, I am slightly horrified at how selfish his parents were/are. (case and point: by the time Tim was 3 he had to make his own breakfast because his parents didn't want to get up with him in the morning. My mother in law is incapable of waking up before 8:30 am, or so she claims)
There is an intricate web of denial that is woven into this family. Kathy didn't acknowledge the underwear that wasn't hers that she found in her bed years ago because she "must have left them there". Tim still isn't sure that his dad really had an affair in Florida recently (Tim has met the woman), he still just thinks that his dad just told Kathy that because she just assumed it anyway (Tim really isn't this stupid, just in that much denial about his dad not being the hero that he always wanted him to be). And Jerry thinks that he will only have to be divorced for a few years so that he can finish his decade long midlife crisis and remarry Kathy. They are, after all, soulmates.
The whole situation is a mess. There are so many facets and backstories and versions of what is happening that it is like living in Pine Valley, and we quite literally live in the middle of it. With Tim working for his father and Kathy living 6 blocks away we get all their divorce, all the time. We know about their finances, their emotional instability, their sex lives. We hear about what he said and what she said and what their friends think. We hear about the therapists and the counselors and the dentists who all have opinions. We hear it all, and I think it is getting really hard on Tim.
I have talked to Tim's 2 closest homies this week and both of them have commented on how hard Tim seems to be taking things. Tony tried to talk to Tim about not taking it out on those around him (i.e. me) and to talk about his feelings rather than lash out in inappropriate ways. This conversation was, according to Tony, like when I ask Abby to pick up her toys; she knows I am speaking and knows that she needs to do what I say but she is just going to sit there and try to get by not listening for a while longer.
Tim is notorious for his temper and I have suffered a brunt of it lately and I am now at a loss as to what to do. The last time I suggested going to a therapist, Tim said that there wasn't a doctor out there who could tell him something he didn't already know. I just wish he would quit smoking again and start taking the Zyban, he is much better with a little welbutrin in his system.
At least he is not taking it out on the kids.
I could sit here and tell you all the ways in which he is a total asshole, but I won't. I will try not to mention all the times that he has yelled at me this week, however I am still kind of pissed that he didn't even ask if everyone was ok when I called him about my (not so) minor fender bender in the Ikea parking lot. I will hold off on complaining about how dramatic he is being, lying on the couch with an arm draped over his eyes and sighing heavily at every chance he gets. I will avoid these things because I know he is sad.
Tim's parents have been married for 30 some odd years, and have dated since they were 15. They are now in the midst of a bizarre and endless separation. Tim had that childhood that everyone on the block talks about and shakes their heads at. His dad was never around, when he was he alternated between yelling and bringing home the most extravagant gifts for Tim and Kathy. Jerry spent many years building what is now a very lucrative business. The money that he earned cost him Tim's childhood (hence the expensive gifts), but not Tim's admiration and reverence, which is sad.
To hear Tim talk about his childhood is like listening to an abused wife. In his mind it was all Kodak moments and learning experiences, but when he talks tells stories, I am slightly horrified at how selfish his parents were/are. (case and point: by the time Tim was 3 he had to make his own breakfast because his parents didn't want to get up with him in the morning. My mother in law is incapable of waking up before 8:30 am, or so she claims)
There is an intricate web of denial that is woven into this family. Kathy didn't acknowledge the underwear that wasn't hers that she found in her bed years ago because she "must have left them there". Tim still isn't sure that his dad really had an affair in Florida recently (Tim has met the woman), he still just thinks that his dad just told Kathy that because she just assumed it anyway (Tim really isn't this stupid, just in that much denial about his dad not being the hero that he always wanted him to be). And Jerry thinks that he will only have to be divorced for a few years so that he can finish his decade long midlife crisis and remarry Kathy. They are, after all, soulmates.
The whole situation is a mess. There are so many facets and backstories and versions of what is happening that it is like living in Pine Valley, and we quite literally live in the middle of it. With Tim working for his father and Kathy living 6 blocks away we get all their divorce, all the time. We know about their finances, their emotional instability, their sex lives. We hear about what he said and what she said and what their friends think. We hear about the therapists and the counselors and the dentists who all have opinions. We hear it all, and I think it is getting really hard on Tim.
I have talked to Tim's 2 closest homies this week and both of them have commented on how hard Tim seems to be taking things. Tony tried to talk to Tim about not taking it out on those around him (i.e. me) and to talk about his feelings rather than lash out in inappropriate ways. This conversation was, according to Tony, like when I ask Abby to pick up her toys; she knows I am speaking and knows that she needs to do what I say but she is just going to sit there and try to get by not listening for a while longer.
Tim is notorious for his temper and I have suffered a brunt of it lately and I am now at a loss as to what to do. The last time I suggested going to a therapist, Tim said that there wasn't a doctor out there who could tell him something he didn't already know. I just wish he would quit smoking again and start taking the Zyban, he is much better with a little welbutrin in his system.
At least he is not taking it out on the kids.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Uncensored
Up until this point we have been lucky. Abby repeats some of the things that we say, but not all of them. She was able to filter out all the foul language Tim and I use and not repeat it, until recently.
Since Eleanor came along Abby has regressed, as they all do, and has started this baby talk thing. She sits and makes noises, talking gibberish to herself, and sometimes will make you play along. I try not to perpetuate it too much, wile still nurturing her imagination, but I can only listen to it for so long.
Lately her gibberish has been mimicking sounds like the "uck" in fuck, and everynow and again we will get a "shit" in there somewhere. Lately she has been throwing something that sounds like hell in there, but since she is not saying it to anyone, or in anger I try not to make a big deal about it and vow to watch my mouth.
Today, however, Abby had an audience. There is nothing quite like your sister telling you that your kid just said she was going to "squeeze the hell out of you". Now she wasn't saying it to anyone necessarily, but this really hit me. Not only is it a "bad" word, but it sounds so violent.
When I told Tim about it his reaction was (and I am not paraphrasing here), "I don't know where in the hell she got that one from". Really, Tim, because I can guess where she might have....
I know that I Have some colorful language, but I try really hard to watch it in front of my kids. Tim, on the other hand is a truck driver. I know, I know, he works in a Body Shop, but my problem is that he doesn't even know he does it.
When I approached Tim about this, he immediately got defensive. I am not trying to change him in any way, but I see this as an 'improvement'. (same thing, I know, but this has been bugging me for a while) He accused me of having "just as bad a fucking vocabulary", and didn't see what the "big fucking deal was". I really don't think he is aware that he swears as much as he does, and I don't know how to fix that, short of a shock collar. Any suggestions?
Since Eleanor came along Abby has regressed, as they all do, and has started this baby talk thing. She sits and makes noises, talking gibberish to herself, and sometimes will make you play along. I try not to perpetuate it too much, wile still nurturing her imagination, but I can only listen to it for so long.
Lately her gibberish has been mimicking sounds like the "uck" in fuck, and everynow and again we will get a "shit" in there somewhere. Lately she has been throwing something that sounds like hell in there, but since she is not saying it to anyone, or in anger I try not to make a big deal about it and vow to watch my mouth.
Today, however, Abby had an audience. There is nothing quite like your sister telling you that your kid just said she was going to "squeeze the hell out of you". Now she wasn't saying it to anyone necessarily, but this really hit me. Not only is it a "bad" word, but it sounds so violent.
When I told Tim about it his reaction was (and I am not paraphrasing here), "I don't know where in the hell she got that one from". Really, Tim, because I can guess where she might have....
I know that I Have some colorful language, but I try really hard to watch it in front of my kids. Tim, on the other hand is a truck driver. I know, I know, he works in a Body Shop, but my problem is that he doesn't even know he does it.
When I approached Tim about this, he immediately got defensive. I am not trying to change him in any way, but I see this as an 'improvement'. (same thing, I know, but this has been bugging me for a while) He accused me of having "just as bad a fucking vocabulary", and didn't see what the "big fucking deal was". I really don't think he is aware that he swears as much as he does, and I don't know how to fix that, short of a shock collar. Any suggestions?
Saturday, June 17, 2006
One Small Step....
If you haven't noticed, my in laws are getting a divorce. This has been going on for a year or so, however their relationship has been teetering on the brink of combustion since I met Tim.
The deal is that they have been together since they were in high school and they are both assholes. My mother in law is needy and incapable of doing much by herself. My father in law is a selfish, controlling dirt bag who has strayed from their relationship on many occasions. I see that he is, well, a dirt bag, and I would not want to be married to him (although sometimes I think I am); but on the flip side my MIL is kind of a nightmare. She needs a lot of attention and is kind of lazy ( I hate describing people as that, but in this case it fits). As I said they are both assholes.
At any rate, Kathy, my MIL, moved this weekend into her new condo down the street from my house. The move has been fairly obnoxious and intrusive on my life, but it is not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Tim got to spend some quality time with her today, which is good because they have some issues.
I am actually really happy for Kathy that she is so excited about this place. It is odd to me that she has never lived alone, had her own phone number, bought her own furniture. While I think it is weird that she took Jerry (my FIL) with her to pick out the TV, I am glad that she is not giving him keys (or so she says). I think this is good for her.
Is it weird to be proud of a 53 year old woman for being able to cross town by herself?
Now if only we could get her to drive downtown alone.....
The deal is that they have been together since they were in high school and they are both assholes. My mother in law is needy and incapable of doing much by herself. My father in law is a selfish, controlling dirt bag who has strayed from their relationship on many occasions. I see that he is, well, a dirt bag, and I would not want to be married to him (although sometimes I think I am); but on the flip side my MIL is kind of a nightmare. She needs a lot of attention and is kind of lazy ( I hate describing people as that, but in this case it fits). As I said they are both assholes.
At any rate, Kathy, my MIL, moved this weekend into her new condo down the street from my house. The move has been fairly obnoxious and intrusive on my life, but it is not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Tim got to spend some quality time with her today, which is good because they have some issues.
I am actually really happy for Kathy that she is so excited about this place. It is odd to me that she has never lived alone, had her own phone number, bought her own furniture. While I think it is weird that she took Jerry (my FIL) with her to pick out the TV, I am glad that she is not giving him keys (or so she says). I think this is good for her.
Is it weird to be proud of a 53 year old woman for being able to cross town by herself?
Now if only we could get her to drive downtown alone.....
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Chewing Gum and Finger Quotes: Let's Talk Current Events
I have a confession to make.
Every Friday I eagerly look out my window and wait for our beloved mailman, Rusty, to show up. When he sits in the mail truck and talks on the phone and (God forbid) eats his lunch I get annoyed. Why can't he do that once he has delivered my mail? Why is my Friday mail so important? Because it is every Friday that I get my People magazine. I know I know, it is pretty much trash with shiny pictures, but I love it. I love everything from the online poll and letters to the editor in the front to the Passages and the crossword puzzle in the back. I read it every Friday night once the ladies are tucked in and Tim is busy driving his desk or whatever it is he does when I am not looking.
I am not completely celeb obsessed, but I am curious. I guess I am just curious about people in general (hence my odd interest in blogs). If there were a weekly magazine published that let me know what everyone in my neighborhood was up to I would read that too. I love to know what everyone is up to. Just call me Gladys Kravits.
Since I am grossly enamored by the life and times of the Hollywood elite, I was glued to my TV for an hour this evening watching the Matt Lauer interview with Brittney Spears. Did you see this?! OH MY GOD, it was a train wreck in action. First of all, can we talk about Matt Lauer? As he was introducing this fiasco I could just tell he was thinking "Where the hell is Katie when I need her? I mean can't CBS wait while she does this shit? I can't talk to this woman with a straight face for 2 minutes let alone an hour! Isn't Maria Menudos available?". And where were his socks? You could just tell that he was kind of unnerved by this whole thing since she sought him out for the interview.
Now, as for Miss Brit, what he fuck? I mean really, that outfit? Was she serious? (the scary thing is that I think she was) Put your boobs away, brush your hair, and spit out the damn gum! And if she inappropriately inserted "finger quotes" one more "time" I was going "to" vomit! As they showed clips of the artist formerly know as Brittney in her little outfits with her great abs gyrating in your face I started to feel bad for her. How would you like to be reminded of your pre baby body every 10 seconds of your pregnancy? And do we believe her when she says her marriage is "awesome"? Us Weekly was calling the Nick/Jessica split months before it happened, and when Brit Brit couldn't look Lauer in the eye when answering questions about her white trash hubby I began to wonder (for the record, I give them 1 more year). And, how does she not know how far along she is in her pregnancy? And, did she really call her kids "Boo-Boos"? That is what we call mistakes, not children.
The saddest part was when Matt showed us an interview he did with her back in 1999, right before her fame hit. She was so articulate and polished (Tim's word, not mine). And her hair was such a lovely blonde. Now she is "country" (Brit Brit's word, not mine) with the most unfortunate trailer park blonde I have seen since I lived in Monmouth. Poor thing.
I actually feel bad for her in a way. Not that I think she needs sympathy, but I feel like I understand her. When Abby was 5 weeks old and I cut her finger while trimming her nails and it bled so badly I wanted to take her to urgent care, I was not on the cover of People. My parenting abilities were not put into question the time that Abby fell down the stairs or ate the cat's food. The truth is that parenting is trial and error to some extent. I used to have this joke (ok, it was lame, but it is my version of a joke), when Tim would ask me why Abby was doing something or what we should do about something with her I would always tell him that I left her manual at the hospital (see, not funny, but it got my point across). As parents we do the best we are capable of, and hope that we can save enough money for the therapy fund when they are old enough (remind me to tell you about the Capable Kid). We "little people" are actually lucky because we don't' have 10,000 photographers in our faces when we do screw up.
Sure we read about the Andrea Yates trial in the newspaper, but we are not constantly reminded that millions of children are abandoned or abused everyday by their mothers. No, we are reminded that Brittney Spears let her baby fall asleep in the back of her Mini in a forward facing car seat. Sure he looked uncomfortable, but can you tell me that everytime your kid falls asleep s/he is the picture of posture?
I didn't think so.
The truly saddest part about the interview was when she announced that she was coming out with a kids clothing line. Who does she think she is, Charlie Sheen? And who does he think he is, Jane Seymour?
On another topic (yet still celeb related) can we talk about something? Anna Nicloe Smith, pregnant? Really, who let that happen? Where was Howard K. Stern? I wake up in a cold sweat everynight thinking about it. (ok, not everynight, but maybe I will tonight?)
On yet another topic, can we talk about your president insulting the blind man? Are you serious that he speaks for me at U8 meetings? Is it over yet, or are these 4 years going to last forever? I think Eleanor could do am better job with Abby as the vice president than what is going on now.
alright, I'm done now. Next time we can talk about Ryan Seacrest
Every Friday I eagerly look out my window and wait for our beloved mailman, Rusty, to show up. When he sits in the mail truck and talks on the phone and (God forbid) eats his lunch I get annoyed. Why can't he do that once he has delivered my mail? Why is my Friday mail so important? Because it is every Friday that I get my People magazine. I know I know, it is pretty much trash with shiny pictures, but I love it. I love everything from the online poll and letters to the editor in the front to the Passages and the crossword puzzle in the back. I read it every Friday night once the ladies are tucked in and Tim is busy driving his desk or whatever it is he does when I am not looking.
I am not completely celeb obsessed, but I am curious. I guess I am just curious about people in general (hence my odd interest in blogs). If there were a weekly magazine published that let me know what everyone in my neighborhood was up to I would read that too. I love to know what everyone is up to. Just call me Gladys Kravits.
Since I am grossly enamored by the life and times of the Hollywood elite, I was glued to my TV for an hour this evening watching the Matt Lauer interview with Brittney Spears. Did you see this?! OH MY GOD, it was a train wreck in action. First of all, can we talk about Matt Lauer? As he was introducing this fiasco I could just tell he was thinking "Where the hell is Katie when I need her? I mean can't CBS wait while she does this shit? I can't talk to this woman with a straight face for 2 minutes let alone an hour! Isn't Maria Menudos available?". And where were his socks? You could just tell that he was kind of unnerved by this whole thing since she sought him out for the interview.
Now, as for Miss Brit, what he fuck? I mean really, that outfit? Was she serious? (the scary thing is that I think she was) Put your boobs away, brush your hair, and spit out the damn gum! And if she inappropriately inserted "finger quotes" one more "time" I was going "to" vomit! As they showed clips of the artist formerly know as Brittney in her little outfits with her great abs gyrating in your face I started to feel bad for her. How would you like to be reminded of your pre baby body every 10 seconds of your pregnancy? And do we believe her when she says her marriage is "awesome"? Us Weekly was calling the Nick/Jessica split months before it happened, and when Brit Brit couldn't look Lauer in the eye when answering questions about her white trash hubby I began to wonder (for the record, I give them 1 more year). And, how does she not know how far along she is in her pregnancy? And, did she really call her kids "Boo-Boos"? That is what we call mistakes, not children.
The saddest part was when Matt showed us an interview he did with her back in 1999, right before her fame hit. She was so articulate and polished (Tim's word, not mine). And her hair was such a lovely blonde. Now she is "country" (Brit Brit's word, not mine) with the most unfortunate trailer park blonde I have seen since I lived in Monmouth. Poor thing.
I actually feel bad for her in a way. Not that I think she needs sympathy, but I feel like I understand her. When Abby was 5 weeks old and I cut her finger while trimming her nails and it bled so badly I wanted to take her to urgent care, I was not on the cover of People. My parenting abilities were not put into question the time that Abby fell down the stairs or ate the cat's food. The truth is that parenting is trial and error to some extent. I used to have this joke (ok, it was lame, but it is my version of a joke), when Tim would ask me why Abby was doing something or what we should do about something with her I would always tell him that I left her manual at the hospital (see, not funny, but it got my point across). As parents we do the best we are capable of, and hope that we can save enough money for the therapy fund when they are old enough (remind me to tell you about the Capable Kid). We "little people" are actually lucky because we don't' have 10,000 photographers in our faces when we do screw up.
Sure we read about the Andrea Yates trial in the newspaper, but we are not constantly reminded that millions of children are abandoned or abused everyday by their mothers. No, we are reminded that Brittney Spears let her baby fall asleep in the back of her Mini in a forward facing car seat. Sure he looked uncomfortable, but can you tell me that everytime your kid falls asleep s/he is the picture of posture?
I didn't think so.
The truly saddest part about the interview was when she announced that she was coming out with a kids clothing line. Who does she think she is, Charlie Sheen? And who does he think he is, Jane Seymour?
On another topic (yet still celeb related) can we talk about something? Anna Nicloe Smith, pregnant? Really, who let that happen? Where was Howard K. Stern? I wake up in a cold sweat everynight thinking about it. (ok, not everynight, but maybe I will tonight?)
On yet another topic, can we talk about your president insulting the blind man? Are you serious that he speaks for me at U8 meetings? Is it over yet, or are these 4 years going to last forever? I think Eleanor could do am better job with Abby as the vice president than what is going on now.
alright, I'm done now. Next time we can talk about Ryan Seacrest
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Running Late, With Scissors
We have a new rule in our house that was in effect as of 10:19am this morning. This new rule is that if you were born later than the year 2000 you may not use scissors in my house. No exceptions.
We were having a nice morning in our house. The baby went down for a nap, Abby and I were frolicking around the house cleaning some rooms and making a mess in others. We were waiting for my mom to come over to watch the ladies so I could mow the lawn. Bob Barker was softly playing in the background. Then my mother in law called.
As soon as I got on the phone Abby was in my face asking if she could cut the yellow paper. At first I said no, but between her whining and my MIL's whining I had to make one stop, so I relented and let Abby have the scissors. Now usually I am right there when she is cutting paper into miniscule bits "for her friends", but I had to finish putting the laundry away so I walked away. Laundry away, MIL still droning on about her impending move (SIX BLOCKS AWAY FROM ME!), I notice how quiet Abby is, so I go and check. She was kind of hiding under the table and as soon as she saw me she hid the scissors behind her back and started saying, "I'm not doing anyfing mommy"- major red light, right. So I look on the floor to see what she has been cutting and what do I see on the floor....HER HAIR!
I hung up on my MIL and began examining my darling's head to assess the damage. In all honesty, it could have been worse. I mean it was bad that she cut her hair, but really it is almost just a stylish layer that she added in the front. I have told her about a million times that we only cut paper, but that has not stopped her from cutting everything from her sheets to the dish towels in the kitchen. I guess hair is added to this list now too....
So my mom finally came over so I could mow the lawn and upon her arrival she got on the phone to our cousin in Burr Ridge. I was ignoring most of the conversation, but I heard the tail end which was something about talking to me and seeing her later. Turns out, in true Linda style, my mom told her that she was going to bring the girls out to have lunch with her this afternoon. What?!
Now, my mom is often a free babysitter and she does do very nice things, whether you want them done or not, but she is also CRAZY! My issues with her are a whole blog in and of itself, but she is constantly doing this double booking shit that I can't stand. She had plans with her cousin but wanted to pimp my kids and take them out to see her 45 minutes away. Then came the guilt trip about me going too. So after I mowed the lawn we packed up and headed out to Burr Ridge (45 minutes away).
On the drive down I told my mom that we had a playdate at 3:30, that I could possibly push to 3:45, but would prefer not to. She said it was no problem and that we would be gone my 2:30 (it was then that I should have known).
In social settings, mainly with this part of our family, my mom turns into this freakish asshole who I can't stand being around. She gushes more insincerely than usual, she feigns interest in things that she will later condemn, and she tries to pimp me and my kids. When we sat down to lunch my mom looked at me and said, "Wouldn't it be interesting if you shared what was going on with your in laws?"
Pardon me, but why would I want to talk about my fucking in laws fucking divorce with someone that hates them (my mom) and someone who doesn't know them? Is that really appropriate? A bit further into lunch my mom commented on the fact that I "rule with an iron fist" because I wouldn't let Abby put her hand in ketchup and paint on the plate. I'm sorry we are working on table manners, as soon as it stopped being cute to my mom, she would have had no problems telling me that I needed to discipline my kid. So after lunch we went outside with the kids where there was no shade and I was the only adult no smoking. I tolerated it for a minute, but Eleanor hates the sun in her eyes so I went in the house. My mom came after me to tell me how rude I was for not joining the converstion, and didn't like it when I told her that Nora didn't want a cigarette after her lunch and that she was not working on her tan.
At this point it was 2:15, so I started to gracefully start our exit. I was ignored and more smoke was blown on my kids. At 2:45 I mentioned that I needed to go home, but we "had to have" chocolate cake before we left per my mother's request. I was fuming. My mom always pulls this shit with me. It is like her bait and switch, she just figures that she has me so she can do whatever she wants. At 3:15, I called my friend and told her that the playdate was off, she told me to call when I got home maybe we could work something out, cool. Finally at 3:44 we were in the car on the way home. We were not out of the driveway before my mom was screaming about how rude I was tapping my foot trying to leave. She thought she had raised me to be more gracious than that. And another thing, we would have had more time if I hadn't mowed the lawn.
The ride home was pretty miserable. Silence was interrupted with bursts of rage about what an asshole I am because I don't want Nora exposed to Marlboro Reds and direct sunlight on her delicate skin. I am ungrateful to her for driving me out there and buying me and Abby lunch. She thought she raised me better than that. Had my kids not been in the car I would have jumped out at Army Trail Rd.
By the time we got home my mom was repenting and apologizing profusely to Abby and I about her behavior and for us missing out playdate. She wanted to buy us dinner and got upset when I refused, asking me why I was punishing her. She made a scene on my front yard and left, only to return 20 minutes later with a gallon of milk, a package of hotdogs and a can of Pringles. Nothing says I'm sorry like groceries from Walgreens.
Moral of the story, we need a landscaping service to mow our lawn once a week.
We were having a nice morning in our house. The baby went down for a nap, Abby and I were frolicking around the house cleaning some rooms and making a mess in others. We were waiting for my mom to come over to watch the ladies so I could mow the lawn. Bob Barker was softly playing in the background. Then my mother in law called.
As soon as I got on the phone Abby was in my face asking if she could cut the yellow paper. At first I said no, but between her whining and my MIL's whining I had to make one stop, so I relented and let Abby have the scissors. Now usually I am right there when she is cutting paper into miniscule bits "for her friends", but I had to finish putting the laundry away so I walked away. Laundry away, MIL still droning on about her impending move (SIX BLOCKS AWAY FROM ME!), I notice how quiet Abby is, so I go and check. She was kind of hiding under the table and as soon as she saw me she hid the scissors behind her back and started saying, "I'm not doing anyfing mommy"- major red light, right. So I look on the floor to see what she has been cutting and what do I see on the floor....HER HAIR!
I hung up on my MIL and began examining my darling's head to assess the damage. In all honesty, it could have been worse. I mean it was bad that she cut her hair, but really it is almost just a stylish layer that she added in the front. I have told her about a million times that we only cut paper, but that has not stopped her from cutting everything from her sheets to the dish towels in the kitchen. I guess hair is added to this list now too....
So my mom finally came over so I could mow the lawn and upon her arrival she got on the phone to our cousin in Burr Ridge. I was ignoring most of the conversation, but I heard the tail end which was something about talking to me and seeing her later. Turns out, in true Linda style, my mom told her that she was going to bring the girls out to have lunch with her this afternoon. What?!
Now, my mom is often a free babysitter and she does do very nice things, whether you want them done or not, but she is also CRAZY! My issues with her are a whole blog in and of itself, but she is constantly doing this double booking shit that I can't stand. She had plans with her cousin but wanted to pimp my kids and take them out to see her 45 minutes away. Then came the guilt trip about me going too. So after I mowed the lawn we packed up and headed out to Burr Ridge (45 minutes away).
On the drive down I told my mom that we had a playdate at 3:30, that I could possibly push to 3:45, but would prefer not to. She said it was no problem and that we would be gone my 2:30 (it was then that I should have known).
In social settings, mainly with this part of our family, my mom turns into this freakish asshole who I can't stand being around. She gushes more insincerely than usual, she feigns interest in things that she will later condemn, and she tries to pimp me and my kids. When we sat down to lunch my mom looked at me and said, "Wouldn't it be interesting if you shared what was going on with your in laws?"
Pardon me, but why would I want to talk about my fucking in laws fucking divorce with someone that hates them (my mom) and someone who doesn't know them? Is that really appropriate? A bit further into lunch my mom commented on the fact that I "rule with an iron fist" because I wouldn't let Abby put her hand in ketchup and paint on the plate. I'm sorry we are working on table manners, as soon as it stopped being cute to my mom, she would have had no problems telling me that I needed to discipline my kid. So after lunch we went outside with the kids where there was no shade and I was the only adult no smoking. I tolerated it for a minute, but Eleanor hates the sun in her eyes so I went in the house. My mom came after me to tell me how rude I was for not joining the converstion, and didn't like it when I told her that Nora didn't want a cigarette after her lunch and that she was not working on her tan.
At this point it was 2:15, so I started to gracefully start our exit. I was ignored and more smoke was blown on my kids. At 2:45 I mentioned that I needed to go home, but we "had to have" chocolate cake before we left per my mother's request. I was fuming. My mom always pulls this shit with me. It is like her bait and switch, she just figures that she has me so she can do whatever she wants. At 3:15, I called my friend and told her that the playdate was off, she told me to call when I got home maybe we could work something out, cool. Finally at 3:44 we were in the car on the way home. We were not out of the driveway before my mom was screaming about how rude I was tapping my foot trying to leave. She thought she had raised me to be more gracious than that. And another thing, we would have had more time if I hadn't mowed the lawn.
The ride home was pretty miserable. Silence was interrupted with bursts of rage about what an asshole I am because I don't want Nora exposed to Marlboro Reds and direct sunlight on her delicate skin. I am ungrateful to her for driving me out there and buying me and Abby lunch. She thought she raised me better than that. Had my kids not been in the car I would have jumped out at Army Trail Rd.
By the time we got home my mom was repenting and apologizing profusely to Abby and I about her behavior and for us missing out playdate. She wanted to buy us dinner and got upset when I refused, asking me why I was punishing her. She made a scene on my front yard and left, only to return 20 minutes later with a gallon of milk, a package of hotdogs and a can of Pringles. Nothing says I'm sorry like groceries from Walgreens.
Moral of the story, we need a landscaping service to mow our lawn once a week.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Home Alone, Par Deux
Tim had an early hockey game tonight which has left me home alone. I can think of thousands of things that I should do, but I have yet to start any of them.
I have had an entire evening to myself and yet I can find nothing better to do than hold my sister hostage on the phone and play games on MSN.
That's all.
I have had an entire evening to myself and yet I can find nothing better to do than hold my sister hostage on the phone and play games on MSN.
That's all.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Sideways Mobility
I tried to post about this the other night, but Blogger had the hiccups.
Big things have been happening around here...Eleanor rolled over! And now she does it with such ease and skill I am afraid that she will be rolling down the stairs in no time.
In other news, Abby can write her name. I have to scan it and post a picture of it because it will absolutely melt your heart into a tiny puddle. I make he do it all the time and she is so proud of herself (I think it is because I practically wet my pants everytime she does it).
With that, I have to go address the invitations the Nora's baptism that should have been mailed last week.
Big things have been happening around here...Eleanor rolled over! And now she does it with such ease and skill I am afraid that she will be rolling down the stairs in no time.
In other news, Abby can write her name. I have to scan it and post a picture of it because it will absolutely melt your heart into a tiny puddle. I make he do it all the time and she is so proud of herself (I think it is because I practically wet my pants everytime she does it).
With that, I have to go address the invitations the Nora's baptism that should have been mailed last week.
Where for art thou, Romeo?
Let me just preface the following by telling the one person who reads this (my sister) that I love my husband. He truly is wonderful and loyal and kind and sweet and funny. He is the best dad that he can be and he is not too shabby of a husband. Having said this, he makes me fucking crazy sometimes.
Case and point #1: Yesterday we were having company. An old friend of mine from college, who I have seen once since I got married 5 years ago, came over with her husband and their new baby. I had to go to the grocery store, pick up the house and prepare lunch before 12:30, and Tim and I decided that we would divide and conquer. I would take the baby to Jewel with me, he would take Abby and clean the basement. When I left with the baby, he and Abby were finishing breakfast on our bed watching TV. When I got back an hour later they literally hadn't moved. I wish I got to lie in bed and cuddle with Abby while completely ignoring responsibility.
Case and point #2: When Tim finally did decide to clean the basement, he left me with the girls, groceries to be unloaded, and food to prepare while her rearranged furniture in the office rather than pick up the party of Little People in the basement. He then decided to sterilize the vacuum cleaner. A 10 second tidy in Tim's world takes 3 hours because he gets anal about 1 little thing. This is why I mow the lawn, a simple grass cutting turns into relandscaping the backyard.
Case and point #3: Sometimes he just doesn't do it right. Abby's shoes need to go into the basket or I can't find them. We don't have chocolate milk with breakfast. Anytime the baby cries it is not always because she is hungry or needs me. Used diapers do not sit on the changing table they go in the fucking diaper champ that he never remembers to empty on Garbage Eve. The list goes on...
Case and point #4: Tim is unable to see what assholes his parents are. He refuses to admit that his dad might have a girlfriend in Florida, despite the fact that Tim has met her. He won't acknowledge that his mom might actually be right about wanting some of their money as she divorces his dad. He won't acknowledge that his job sucks because he works for his dad. As an only child he carries quite a burden of having to deal with these people, but he allows then to abuse him and use him in ways that he would not tolerate from anyone else on Earth. .(this is another post, let alone blog, entirely)
Case and point #5: I got a $25 gift card to Target for Mother's day and got to sleep in until 7:15 am AND host a brunch for our mother's.
Case and point #6: He is physically incapable of using proper grammar, not saying 'fuck' everyother word, and not interrupting me.
As I am typing this I am feeling guilty for being too hard on him, and I don't want anyone to think that he is a complete jerk and wonder why I am married to such a fool. The truth is that for every completely irritating thing he does there is something equally as sweet.
He warms up my side of the bed for me during the winter, he rubs my feet whenever we are watching TV together, he indulges my bizarre obsession with Valli salsa by having it waiting for me when I get home from work, he tolerates my often irrational whims as well as my obsessive recycling practices, he won't let me call the Salvation Army to get rid of the crap in our garage because he knows that I am vehemently against their practices (despite the fact that this shit needs to get out of my garage), he lets me make fun of his car and him without ever giving it back to me, he doesn't complain about my mom just popping in unexpectedly even if it ruins our afternoon, he gets olives on our pizza when we order form Jake's eventhough he really hates them, the list goes on....
The only parenting advice that I give without being asked is that you will never hate your spouse more than when you have a kid. You will also never love them more, but that soon gets phased out by the idea that s/he is "doing it wrong" when it comes to parenting. I think this is true not only for parenting, but for marriage in general.
Sure it would be nice to have a husband who always remembered to put the dishes in the dishwasher (ok, I'll take the sink even), and I would love to not have to go on Coke Can Safari to collect all of the half full cans from around the house, garage and yard, and it would be nice to have someone who would just read my mind and do everything the way that I want it done, but I don't think that man would sit and watch The Hills with me or let me have complete control over the remote.
Case and point #1: Yesterday we were having company. An old friend of mine from college, who I have seen once since I got married 5 years ago, came over with her husband and their new baby. I had to go to the grocery store, pick up the house and prepare lunch before 12:30, and Tim and I decided that we would divide and conquer. I would take the baby to Jewel with me, he would take Abby and clean the basement. When I left with the baby, he and Abby were finishing breakfast on our bed watching TV. When I got back an hour later they literally hadn't moved. I wish I got to lie in bed and cuddle with Abby while completely ignoring responsibility.
Case and point #2: When Tim finally did decide to clean the basement, he left me with the girls, groceries to be unloaded, and food to prepare while her rearranged furniture in the office rather than pick up the party of Little People in the basement. He then decided to sterilize the vacuum cleaner. A 10 second tidy in Tim's world takes 3 hours because he gets anal about 1 little thing. This is why I mow the lawn, a simple grass cutting turns into relandscaping the backyard.
Case and point #3: Sometimes he just doesn't do it right. Abby's shoes need to go into the basket or I can't find them. We don't have chocolate milk with breakfast. Anytime the baby cries it is not always because she is hungry or needs me. Used diapers do not sit on the changing table they go in the fucking diaper champ that he never remembers to empty on Garbage Eve. The list goes on...
Case and point #4: Tim is unable to see what assholes his parents are. He refuses to admit that his dad might have a girlfriend in Florida, despite the fact that Tim has met her. He won't acknowledge that his mom might actually be right about wanting some of their money as she divorces his dad. He won't acknowledge that his job sucks because he works for his dad. As an only child he carries quite a burden of having to deal with these people, but he allows then to abuse him and use him in ways that he would not tolerate from anyone else on Earth. .(this is another post, let alone blog, entirely)
Case and point #5: I got a $25 gift card to Target for Mother's day and got to sleep in until 7:15 am AND host a brunch for our mother's.
Case and point #6: He is physically incapable of using proper grammar, not saying 'fuck' everyother word, and not interrupting me.
As I am typing this I am feeling guilty for being too hard on him, and I don't want anyone to think that he is a complete jerk and wonder why I am married to such a fool. The truth is that for every completely irritating thing he does there is something equally as sweet.
He warms up my side of the bed for me during the winter, he rubs my feet whenever we are watching TV together, he indulges my bizarre obsession with Valli salsa by having it waiting for me when I get home from work, he tolerates my often irrational whims as well as my obsessive recycling practices, he won't let me call the Salvation Army to get rid of the crap in our garage because he knows that I am vehemently against their practices (despite the fact that this shit needs to get out of my garage), he lets me make fun of his car and him without ever giving it back to me, he doesn't complain about my mom just popping in unexpectedly even if it ruins our afternoon, he gets olives on our pizza when we order form Jake's eventhough he really hates them, the list goes on....
The only parenting advice that I give without being asked is that you will never hate your spouse more than when you have a kid. You will also never love them more, but that soon gets phased out by the idea that s/he is "doing it wrong" when it comes to parenting. I think this is true not only for parenting, but for marriage in general.
Sure it would be nice to have a husband who always remembered to put the dishes in the dishwasher (ok, I'll take the sink even), and I would love to not have to go on Coke Can Safari to collect all of the half full cans from around the house, garage and yard, and it would be nice to have someone who would just read my mind and do everything the way that I want it done, but I don't think that man would sit and watch The Hills with me or let me have complete control over the remote.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Bait and Switch
My mom is known for her bizarre collection of friends and often my children and I are used as props for her to present her life to these people as the devoted Grandmother and mother that she isn't.
Wait, that isn't fair. Abigail adores her and they do play together a lot, and she does babysit, so I guess we could call her devoted, but keep in mind that it is n this weird self serving kind of fucked up way.
Anyway...One of my mom's "dear friends" was celebrating her birthday today and it was "her one wish" to have the girls come to have lunch with her at work. I don't mind this woman so I was willing to go along for the ride. My mom set up the plans and we were off to the Chicago Botanic Gardens (after my mom wardrobed my girls in matching dresses, Eleanor's being too small for her and pinching her grade A chub).
When we got there, my mom's friend went rushing by us at the entrance with a wheel chair, shouting over her shoulder that she was going to get Betty. Who? When I asked my mom she acted shocked that I didn't know that Betty was coming with her daughter. She followed that with one of her maniacal laughs that she gives when she knows that she has done a bait and switch. Here I thought we were having a quick birthday lunch with a friend of my mom's, but really we were scheduled for a tour of the gardens and an obligatory meet and greet with my mom's peeps.
I can't complain too much about the day, the gardens are wonderful and I was able to see them from the back of a golf cart rather than pushing a stroller, but it was still a golf cart full of Republicans. I had to hold the baby because no one told me to bring a sling, and if my mom gasped "This is just stupendous" one more time I was going to push her off the cart. Abby had fun with a little activity that set her on the task of looking for things which distracted her form the pro-war, pro-Bush rhetoric that was being shoved down my throat. As irritating as the bait and switch was, it was more painless than most of these adventures with my mom.
On the way home we stopped at Target, which is where the day took a turn for the worst. My needs there were simple, but of course it was turned into a production involving a new Dora book and glasses for Abby and my mom throwing a boys size 7 shirt down on the floor because I told her not to buy it for size 4 or 5 Abigail.
I hate when mom stops taking her medicine.
Wait, that isn't fair. Abigail adores her and they do play together a lot, and she does babysit, so I guess we could call her devoted, but keep in mind that it is n this weird self serving kind of fucked up way.
Anyway...One of my mom's "dear friends" was celebrating her birthday today and it was "her one wish" to have the girls come to have lunch with her at work. I don't mind this woman so I was willing to go along for the ride. My mom set up the plans and we were off to the Chicago Botanic Gardens (after my mom wardrobed my girls in matching dresses, Eleanor's being too small for her and pinching her grade A chub).
When we got there, my mom's friend went rushing by us at the entrance with a wheel chair, shouting over her shoulder that she was going to get Betty. Who? When I asked my mom she acted shocked that I didn't know that Betty was coming with her daughter. She followed that with one of her maniacal laughs that she gives when she knows that she has done a bait and switch. Here I thought we were having a quick birthday lunch with a friend of my mom's, but really we were scheduled for a tour of the gardens and an obligatory meet and greet with my mom's peeps.
I can't complain too much about the day, the gardens are wonderful and I was able to see them from the back of a golf cart rather than pushing a stroller, but it was still a golf cart full of Republicans. I had to hold the baby because no one told me to bring a sling, and if my mom gasped "This is just stupendous" one more time I was going to push her off the cart. Abby had fun with a little activity that set her on the task of looking for things which distracted her form the pro-war, pro-Bush rhetoric that was being shoved down my throat. As irritating as the bait and switch was, it was more painless than most of these adventures with my mom.
On the way home we stopped at Target, which is where the day took a turn for the worst. My needs there were simple, but of course it was turned into a production involving a new Dora book and glasses for Abby and my mom throwing a boys size 7 shirt down on the floor because I told her not to buy it for size 4 or 5 Abigail.
I hate when mom stops taking her medicine.
Bookends
Tonight I saw someone who I haven't seen in a long time.
It was weird at first because the gap in our friendship was awkward and abrupt. The last time I saw him was in August after Amanda's baby shower. We ate cake on our patio and watched Abby play in the yard. He had always like Abby, shown an interest at least which is more than I can say for most of our bachelor friends. Abby adored him too, she would always flirt with him, and make sure he was watching her. He used to be a fixture in our house, over at least 2 nights a week for dinner. He was there so much that we got Abby a figure of him for her doll house. Then he disappeared.
We have all done that to someone, either on purpose or accidentally. I still haven't returned Cassandra's calls and never intend to, and I keep forgetting to call Anna back from that time she called in January. But this was different. It was like things were just put on pause. At first it wasn't noticeable, but then the silence grew deafening. It could not go unacknowledged that this fixture in my house had disappeared. It was hard to explain it to Abby because I didn't really have an explanation. It wasn't like there was some rift, it just was an unreturned phone call.
I thought of him a lot in the time that passed when we didn't see him. When I caught the Simpsons or made brownies. I would wonder what he was up to while I warmed up by the heater he installed in the garage. I would think about him when I passed Fermi Lab and wonder if he was still dating Ellen. When I had Eleanor I wondered if he remembered that I was pregnant. Sometimes Tim and I would curse his shoddy workmanship on the garbage disposal he put in, but I always missed him. It is weird that for the better part of a year an half my best girlfriend was a 22 year old boy. I missed the way that he would take an interest in what I though about things and that he didn't just regard me as "Tim's wife" the way some do. He was good to my kid, and we liked having him around.
Tonight after a few margaritas Tim and a friend of ours (Friend's former roommate) decided to stalk him at his night job. It was weird. How do you not acknowledge the time that has passed? How do you ask why you didn't return my call? I don't think this adventure fazed Tim and Tony the way it did me. I listened as he tried to explain where the time went, but really, it didn't matter. I didn't need an explanation, I don't know what I needed. As far as I was concerned I was just along for the ride.
I don't know if this fixture will be reinstalled in my house. We have a new resident who has changed everything, but there is always room. I don't cook as much as I used to so the draw of that is diminished, but we have been rocking the panni maker. Things get hectic, and time passed makes it strange, but we'll see.
If nothing else, I got a night off out of the deal.
It was weird at first because the gap in our friendship was awkward and abrupt. The last time I saw him was in August after Amanda's baby shower. We ate cake on our patio and watched Abby play in the yard. He had always like Abby, shown an interest at least which is more than I can say for most of our bachelor friends. Abby adored him too, she would always flirt with him, and make sure he was watching her. He used to be a fixture in our house, over at least 2 nights a week for dinner. He was there so much that we got Abby a figure of him for her doll house. Then he disappeared.
We have all done that to someone, either on purpose or accidentally. I still haven't returned Cassandra's calls and never intend to, and I keep forgetting to call Anna back from that time she called in January. But this was different. It was like things were just put on pause. At first it wasn't noticeable, but then the silence grew deafening. It could not go unacknowledged that this fixture in my house had disappeared. It was hard to explain it to Abby because I didn't really have an explanation. It wasn't like there was some rift, it just was an unreturned phone call.
I thought of him a lot in the time that passed when we didn't see him. When I caught the Simpsons or made brownies. I would wonder what he was up to while I warmed up by the heater he installed in the garage. I would think about him when I passed Fermi Lab and wonder if he was still dating Ellen. When I had Eleanor I wondered if he remembered that I was pregnant. Sometimes Tim and I would curse his shoddy workmanship on the garbage disposal he put in, but I always missed him. It is weird that for the better part of a year an half my best girlfriend was a 22 year old boy. I missed the way that he would take an interest in what I though about things and that he didn't just regard me as "Tim's wife" the way some do. He was good to my kid, and we liked having him around.
Tonight after a few margaritas Tim and a friend of ours (Friend's former roommate) decided to stalk him at his night job. It was weird. How do you not acknowledge the time that has passed? How do you ask why you didn't return my call? I don't think this adventure fazed Tim and Tony the way it did me. I listened as he tried to explain where the time went, but really, it didn't matter. I didn't need an explanation, I don't know what I needed. As far as I was concerned I was just along for the ride.
I don't know if this fixture will be reinstalled in my house. We have a new resident who has changed everything, but there is always room. I don't cook as much as I used to so the draw of that is diminished, but we have been rocking the panni maker. Things get hectic, and time passed makes it strange, but we'll see.
If nothing else, I got a night off out of the deal.
The Baby Sitter's Club
When my head starts spinning or Tim and I need a night out we call one of a handful of people. It seems that all of our babysitters have their own occasions...My mom sits when I go to work once a week, my mother in law sits when we go out to dinner, my cousin sits when she is in town and we need to go see a movie, my friend Karen sits when I have errands to run or yard work to do, and Sam sits when all else fails and her busy high school schedule allows it. While we are not really hurting for sitters, we have an intricate web of people who are available to watch the ladies. This has gotten a bit harder now that there are 2 of them. Each sitter has their pros (the mothers are free child care, Karen is a nurse, my cousin is usually available) and their cons (Tim's mom always stays too late, as does my cousin; my mom flakes out on us or she has opinions about where we are going when we should be home etc.). At any rate, I am always on the look out for a new sitter just in case.
A few weeks ago I got an SOS phone call from my cousin in college that she had not found a summer job yet. Knowing that she did not want to work retail, she asked me to ask around to see if anyone I knew needed a sitter this summer. I mentioned it to a few moms, but was somewhat selective, knowing that I would want to use her and that I didn't want her to get screwed by some of the moms the way I did when I was a babysitter. Apparently she set some stuff up and is going to be working this summer for a friend of mine a few days a week, great, right?
Now a while ago, before I had Nora, I had asked my friend Lisa if she knew anyone who babysat. She has 3 kids and is the leader of her church's teen group and she always is sending a sitter home or waiting for one to get there- sounds like a good resource. She got really weird when I asked her about it, and never followed through with a name so I let it go. I was a sitter in high school and if I didn't know then what a hot commodity a good sitter was I do now. She doesn't want to give up the good, fine, I can respect that. Since she wasn't willing to give, I have been leery of asking other friend for recommendations. It would be nice to have a few backups fro those times when my mom gets "stuck at the doctor's office" at 8 on a Saturday night, or for when my mother in law decides to try to find a life. I see teenage girls at the mall, or walking by the park, and I want to stop them and ask if they babysit, but I know that would probably just scare them. Really, though, sometimes it is really hard to refrain.
So today I got a phone call from Lisa and I have been irritated ever since. Apparently Lisa had talked to a mutual friend who mentioned that I had given her the name of a good sitter (my cousin). Lisa got kind of accusatory and asked why I hadn't given her this sitter's name and number. Well, the answer is simple, Lisa's kids are nightmares. Her oldest is really needy, her middle child (a friend of Abby's ) is beyond obnoxious, and while the baby is fine, I knew that my cousin would not gel with her. How do you tell your "friend" that you don't like her kids enough to subject people you love to caring for them? I somehow wiggled out of that when she jumped on me about another one of my sitters, Karen.(Karen is a post partum nurse at a local hospital and a friend of a friend. She took a leave of absence from work right around when I had the baby and started coming over to watch the ladies while I went to work out or run errands. She is the first non family member that I had left the ladies with, and I was really comfortable with it because, hey, she's a nurse. She really only babysits for me, but is going to start helping my neighbor, Andrea, with her boys- she set that up on her own) Lisa asked me for Karen's number and when I told her that she didn't really sit for a lot of people, she really just does it as a favor to me, Lisa got all pushy about it- asking for me to give her the number so that she could hear it form Karen. Again, wiggling ensued and I ended the conversation on a nice note, but still knowing that our friendship had changed.
Am I an asshole for not sharing my sitters with her? Or os she an asshole for demanding them? Are we both assholes?
Probably.
Women rely on eachother for recommendations about hairdressers and manicurists. We allow ourselves to be fixed up by our girlfriends. We exchange recipes and books. We support and console eachother when needed, and we celebrate together. We all share that touchy feely bond of womanhood, but God forbid we share a fucking babysitter.
A few weeks ago I got an SOS phone call from my cousin in college that she had not found a summer job yet. Knowing that she did not want to work retail, she asked me to ask around to see if anyone I knew needed a sitter this summer. I mentioned it to a few moms, but was somewhat selective, knowing that I would want to use her and that I didn't want her to get screwed by some of the moms the way I did when I was a babysitter. Apparently she set some stuff up and is going to be working this summer for a friend of mine a few days a week, great, right?
Now a while ago, before I had Nora, I had asked my friend Lisa if she knew anyone who babysat. She has 3 kids and is the leader of her church's teen group and she always is sending a sitter home or waiting for one to get there- sounds like a good resource. She got really weird when I asked her about it, and never followed through with a name so I let it go. I was a sitter in high school and if I didn't know then what a hot commodity a good sitter was I do now. She doesn't want to give up the good, fine, I can respect that. Since she wasn't willing to give, I have been leery of asking other friend for recommendations. It would be nice to have a few backups fro those times when my mom gets "stuck at the doctor's office" at 8 on a Saturday night, or for when my mother in law decides to try to find a life. I see teenage girls at the mall, or walking by the park, and I want to stop them and ask if they babysit, but I know that would probably just scare them. Really, though, sometimes it is really hard to refrain.
So today I got a phone call from Lisa and I have been irritated ever since. Apparently Lisa had talked to a mutual friend who mentioned that I had given her the name of a good sitter (my cousin). Lisa got kind of accusatory and asked why I hadn't given her this sitter's name and number. Well, the answer is simple, Lisa's kids are nightmares. Her oldest is really needy, her middle child (a friend of Abby's ) is beyond obnoxious, and while the baby is fine, I knew that my cousin would not gel with her. How do you tell your "friend" that you don't like her kids enough to subject people you love to caring for them? I somehow wiggled out of that when she jumped on me about another one of my sitters, Karen.(Karen is a post partum nurse at a local hospital and a friend of a friend. She took a leave of absence from work right around when I had the baby and started coming over to watch the ladies while I went to work out or run errands. She is the first non family member that I had left the ladies with, and I was really comfortable with it because, hey, she's a nurse. She really only babysits for me, but is going to start helping my neighbor, Andrea, with her boys- she set that up on her own) Lisa asked me for Karen's number and when I told her that she didn't really sit for a lot of people, she really just does it as a favor to me, Lisa got all pushy about it- asking for me to give her the number so that she could hear it form Karen. Again, wiggling ensued and I ended the conversation on a nice note, but still knowing that our friendship had changed.
Am I an asshole for not sharing my sitters with her? Or os she an asshole for demanding them? Are we both assholes?
Probably.
Women rely on eachother for recommendations about hairdressers and manicurists. We allow ourselves to be fixed up by our girlfriends. We exchange recipes and books. We support and console eachother when needed, and we celebrate together. We all share that touchy feely bond of womanhood, but God forbid we share a fucking babysitter.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Our New Neighbor
My friend Andrea, who lives down the street, had a baby tonight.
I remember when she told me she was pregnant- we were taking my little Elmo, and her little lion (G-Man, age 1.5) trick or treating- and she told me that they were expecting a girl in May. I was surprised that they knew so far in advance what it was, but in truth, they didn't, she was just hoping. We walked the neighborhood in the rain with our first-borns, my little Eleanor growing in my belly and her little surprise in hers.
We had playdates all winter and talked about our babies. We knew Nora was Nora but they weren't finding out what theirs was. She was pretty sure that it was going to be a girl- she was carrying differently, felt differently and so on. She would always bug me about what my prediction was, and I would never guess because I a) didn't want to tell her I thought she was having a boy and b)won't guess out loud anymore since I called my niece Baby Hugo throughout my sister's entire pregnancy.
I remember when she came over to meet Nora- the way she held her and cuddled her, talking about how dainty she was. I could feel that when she went home she had thoughts of baby girls dancing in her head.
Throughout her 40 weeks she has insisted that this is her last pregnancy, and that she will have what she has be it 2 boys, or one of each, and today was her day of reckoning.
At 9pm this evening, after hours of pushing, she gave birth to a baby boy. Although I haven't spoken to her directly (she had my friend who is her nurse call me) I can't help but fear the slight disappointment that I am sure she feels. I know that she is not shallow and will not be crying about it being a boy- hell she had a hard time getting knocked up both times, I know she is thrilled to have a baby. I don't think that she will resent this boy for not being a girl anymore than Tim resents having 2 girls (which is not even a little bit), but I am sure that a piece of her heart broke (ok, chipped) that she was not going to get to buy prom dresses and plan a wedding.
So here is to Andrea and her boys...she will never have to worry about party shoes, and the fragile self image of a 13 year old girl. She won't have to pick up the pieces of a little girl who has been crushed by a "mean girl" at pre school. She will get buy buying a pair of shoes, some jeans, and a few tee shirts as back to school clothes. She will not have to make the bangs, no bangs decision for a toddler. She will not have to but all new baby clothes, and the boys will be able to share a room until they can buy their big house in Barrington. She has it made...
welcome to my new little Neighbor, we have been waiting for you....Eleanor has some things to teach you, and we can't wait to meet you.....
I remember when she told me she was pregnant- we were taking my little Elmo, and her little lion (G-Man, age 1.5) trick or treating- and she told me that they were expecting a girl in May. I was surprised that they knew so far in advance what it was, but in truth, they didn't, she was just hoping. We walked the neighborhood in the rain with our first-borns, my little Eleanor growing in my belly and her little surprise in hers.
We had playdates all winter and talked about our babies. We knew Nora was Nora but they weren't finding out what theirs was. She was pretty sure that it was going to be a girl- she was carrying differently, felt differently and so on. She would always bug me about what my prediction was, and I would never guess because I a) didn't want to tell her I thought she was having a boy and b)won't guess out loud anymore since I called my niece Baby Hugo throughout my sister's entire pregnancy.
I remember when she came over to meet Nora- the way she held her and cuddled her, talking about how dainty she was. I could feel that when she went home she had thoughts of baby girls dancing in her head.
Throughout her 40 weeks she has insisted that this is her last pregnancy, and that she will have what she has be it 2 boys, or one of each, and today was her day of reckoning.
At 9pm this evening, after hours of pushing, she gave birth to a baby boy. Although I haven't spoken to her directly (she had my friend who is her nurse call me) I can't help but fear the slight disappointment that I am sure she feels. I know that she is not shallow and will not be crying about it being a boy- hell she had a hard time getting knocked up both times, I know she is thrilled to have a baby. I don't think that she will resent this boy for not being a girl anymore than Tim resents having 2 girls (which is not even a little bit), but I am sure that a piece of her heart broke (ok, chipped) that she was not going to get to buy prom dresses and plan a wedding.
So here is to Andrea and her boys...she will never have to worry about party shoes, and the fragile self image of a 13 year old girl. She won't have to pick up the pieces of a little girl who has been crushed by a "mean girl" at pre school. She will get buy buying a pair of shoes, some jeans, and a few tee shirts as back to school clothes. She will not have to make the bangs, no bangs decision for a toddler. She will not have to but all new baby clothes, and the boys will be able to share a room until they can buy their big house in Barrington. She has it made...
welcome to my new little Neighbor, we have been waiting for you....Eleanor has some things to teach you, and we can't wait to meet you.....
An Outing
My mom has this friend who she has known since high school that is an intricate part of our lives. She was a big part of my childhood, and I have developed a great relationship with her in my adult life. She loves my girls and is constantly spoiling them with beautiful handmade dresses, sweaters, hats, etc. She is someone who is rather hard to explain, and sometimes I prefer not to. She is just Judy, and that is wonderful.
Because Judy's dogs were at "the spa" getting their "dos done" she had a day free from responsibility and we were able to finally get to the Peggy Noterbart Nature Museum to check out the butterflies. Now this is an event that has been a year in the making. It has seemed that everytime we have planned to go something has come up, or my mom has meddled into the plans and everything gets muddled (my new favorite word thank you to Abby's obsession with Fox in Socks). So today the stars aligned and we were off.
It was fun driving through Wilmette and Evanston with my mom and Judy as they kept pointing out houses and telling the girls and I who used to live there when they were kids. It was funny to listen to them talk about how Muffy Someone or another had a plack in Gilson Park because she had done the football team there. Judy waved to her friends at the Kellogg Cancer center and amazed Abby by telling her that they had been born in the same hospital. They pointed out the Totem pole, and joked about Mayor Daly's mishaps. It was amazing, my mom was tolerable.
The butterflies were lovely...
And also entertaining...
Yes, those are butterflies enjoying the company of one another. I know it is odd and somewhat immature to photograph this, but it was funny. What was funnier was that once they separated Judy offered one of them a cigarette.
Going places with Judy is always an adventure. She literally knows something about everything, and she talks to EVERYONE. The baby with the red hair was named Emily, after her grandmother. The teacher from St. Damian's was getting married next weekend, and having her reception at the Michigan Shores Club. The zookeeper by the polar bears was waiting for his wife to call him and let him know if the baby was going to be a boy or a girl (he was gone when we went back to check). The woman outside of the conservatory was not going to meet her daughter at Nordstrom because Michigan Ave was too far to walk and she doesn't take cabs. The little boy was afraid of the petting zoo, that was why he was crying. This is one of Judy's best (and most irritating) quirks, it did make the day more interesting.
She taught Abby about all the birds in the bird house that I am too afraid to go in. She told Eleanor that she would bring her back to the zoo and let her pick out her favorite animal. She drove me by the house her mother grew up in, as well as her old house in Kenilworth. And, most importantly, she kept my mother sane for the afternoon which is a huge feat.
Everyone should have a Judy.
Because Judy's dogs were at "the spa" getting their "dos done" she had a day free from responsibility and we were able to finally get to the Peggy Noterbart Nature Museum to check out the butterflies. Now this is an event that has been a year in the making. It has seemed that everytime we have planned to go something has come up, or my mom has meddled into the plans and everything gets muddled (my new favorite word thank you to Abby's obsession with Fox in Socks). So today the stars aligned and we were off.
It was fun driving through Wilmette and Evanston with my mom and Judy as they kept pointing out houses and telling the girls and I who used to live there when they were kids. It was funny to listen to them talk about how Muffy Someone or another had a plack in Gilson Park because she had done the football team there. Judy waved to her friends at the Kellogg Cancer center and amazed Abby by telling her that they had been born in the same hospital. They pointed out the Totem pole, and joked about Mayor Daly's mishaps. It was amazing, my mom was tolerable.
The butterflies were lovely...
And also entertaining...
Yes, those are butterflies enjoying the company of one another. I know it is odd and somewhat immature to photograph this, but it was funny. What was funnier was that once they separated Judy offered one of them a cigarette.
Going places with Judy is always an adventure. She literally knows something about everything, and she talks to EVERYONE. The baby with the red hair was named Emily, after her grandmother. The teacher from St. Damian's was getting married next weekend, and having her reception at the Michigan Shores Club. The zookeeper by the polar bears was waiting for his wife to call him and let him know if the baby was going to be a boy or a girl (he was gone when we went back to check). The woman outside of the conservatory was not going to meet her daughter at Nordstrom because Michigan Ave was too far to walk and she doesn't take cabs. The little boy was afraid of the petting zoo, that was why he was crying. This is one of Judy's best (and most irritating) quirks, it did make the day more interesting.
She taught Abby about all the birds in the bird house that I am too afraid to go in. She told Eleanor that she would bring her back to the zoo and let her pick out her favorite animal. She drove me by the house her mother grew up in, as well as her old house in Kenilworth. And, most importantly, she kept my mother sane for the afternoon which is a huge feat.
Everyone should have a Judy.
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