(Apologies to my bloggy friends going through real stuff. I gotta get this out of me.)
In an extension of Wednesday Whining, I have to announce that I am going absolutely batshit with the nap/no-nap, up and tantruming because Ema IS NOT ALLOWED TO GO TO THE POTTY at 5 frigging 20 in the morning when it is still dark, crying-all-afternoon parenting of a toddler who will not give me five minutes to put her brother to sleep without whining and shrieking.
(Insert primal scream here.)
Taxman, in his infinite greatness, has told me that on Sunday I can take AM and spend some quality time (essentially) by myself. He was kind enough to not say straight out that my parenting skillz are currently in the cellar, but I will admit to that on my own.
Breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, breathing out.
Sigh.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Robert McCloskey, eat your heart out
North of Great Barrington, Massachusetts, Miss M lives out her Blueberries for Sal moment.
There were no bears, but she kept repeating "Blueberries...can...winter." Sadly, it wasn't peak blueberry season, so the yield was just under a pint. Not exactly pantry-worthy.
Maybe next summer in Maine?
There were no bears, but she kept repeating "Blueberries...can...winter." Sadly, it wasn't peak blueberry season, so the yield was just under a pint. Not exactly pantry-worthy.
Maybe next summer in Maine?
Monday, August 14, 2006
Things I learned in the Berkshires
1. It is possible to visit the Berkshires in the summer and come away with zero mosquito bites. It just involves a lot of long sleeves and very little time outside at night. My quest was infinitely aided by the deliciously cool temperatures.
2. When the (friendly) locals direct you to a scenic spot, they really know what they are talking about. DON'T DEVIATE. If you rashly decide to follow signs posted by some employee of the Mt. Washington State Forest, you will find they abruptly end just when you need them the most, and you will wander around, wasting gasoline, for at least half an hour until another set of friendly locals puts you back on the right path.
3. It is impossible to go into only two stores at an outlet mall. The itch to score bargains overrides cranky, overtired children, looming loads of laundry, and the prospect of a 150-mile drive home. What started as a clear-cut set of goals--Rockport shoes for Taxman and Oshkosh jeans for Miss M--turned into meandering through Rockport, Van Heusen, Gap, Carter's, Oshkosh, and Little Me. And I got nothing!
4. When your two-year-old, who still believes that sentence structure is NOT for her, tries to dictate your path through the woods, DON'T LET HER.*
5. There is nothing like a weekend in close quarters with another couple, even if they are friends, to make you so grateful to have the spouse that you do. I never win anything like raffles or door prizes, but I won the husband lottery.
*More on this later.
2. When the (friendly) locals direct you to a scenic spot, they really know what they are talking about. DON'T DEVIATE. If you rashly decide to follow signs posted by some employee of the Mt. Washington State Forest, you will find they abruptly end just when you need them the most, and you will wander around, wasting gasoline, for at least half an hour until another set of friendly locals puts you back on the right path.
3. It is impossible to go into only two stores at an outlet mall. The itch to score bargains overrides cranky, overtired children, looming loads of laundry, and the prospect of a 150-mile drive home. What started as a clear-cut set of goals--Rockport shoes for Taxman and Oshkosh jeans for Miss M--turned into meandering through Rockport, Van Heusen, Gap, Carter's, Oshkosh, and Little Me. And I got nothing!
4. When your two-year-old, who still believes that sentence structure is NOT for her, tries to dictate your path through the woods, DON'T LET HER.*
5. There is nothing like a weekend in close quarters with another couple, even if they are friends, to make you so grateful to have the spouse that you do. I never win anything like raffles or door prizes, but I won the husband lottery.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Mouth agape
The week isn't yet finished, but I've already had some head-shaking moments.
(Oh, and I wrote this post last night; this morning we woke up to the news at 5:30, explaining the foiled terrorist plot to blow up commercial airliners to the US from Britain. Suddenly not taking a big vacation this year looks juuuuust fiiine. Especially since it looks probable that you will not be able to take a bag full of goodies to entertain toddlers on the plane. So we might not be traveling far for at least four years. Assuming we haven't been blown to smithereens by then.)
1. People smoking at a park filled with kids. I know that there are very few places in New York City where you can legally smoke, but honestly! Miss M spent close to an hour in the sandbox, and there were two women chain-smoking on the bench about eight feet away from it. Yuck. I probably should have said something, but a) I am as non-confrontational as they come, b) my children weren't in imminent danger, and c) where else were they going to go? It was
5 pm on a beautiful summer afternoon. The playground was crawling with kids. Plus they looked scary and kept screaming at their own children.
2. I spent a couple of hours at the zoo on Monday with friends from Portland, M & B, and their two boys, who are 4 and 13 months. They come to New York for a week every summer to visit M's parents. M's parents were at the zoo as well, and the jaw-dropping part was that I could not believe how unhelpful they were with the kids. (I had originally thought that it was going to be a great adult to kid ratio--5:4--but it was really 3.1:4.) Yes, it was hot; yes, we spent most of the time in the children's part of the zoo; yes, part of being with a pre-schooler is answering the same questions over and over and listening to them say inane (but sometimes cute) things. But these are their grandchildren! They just sat on benches, complained about the weather (take a number!), and didn't engage the boys at all. Someone asked M's mother how old the younger one is, and she gave an answer that wasn't really close. The thing that killed me, though, is that she was going on and on about her other grandkids (M's brother's children).
I don't know why this bothered me so much, but it did. It made me sad. And also so grateful for my parents (who are far away) but especially for my in-laws, who call and beg to come visit with our kids. They take Miss M on Thursday afternoons so I can go to the farmers' market with just one very easy child. They drop everything to entertain them, spoil them rotten (but only after asking our permission), and brag about them to their friends. So...happy for me and Taxman, but sad for my friends. (I know there are plenty of people who have fraught relationships with their parents, but M & B are just about the nicest people on earth, in my experience. If they can't make it work, I fear for the rest of us.)
3. We are spending the weekend in the Berkshires, where it will be downright glacial after dark. The low 50s! Anyway, Miss M doesn't have appropriate clothes in her current size. The sweatshirt that fit her in May will of course not fit her now. So I stopped into the little girls' department at Macy's--it was their usual Wednesday one-day sale.
I was horrified. Probably 90 percent of the clothes they were displaying were name brands that were, of course, overpriced because they were name brands.* But really, even at 40 percent off, do I want my daughter look like a mini hip-hop princess? She's two! Only once in her entire life has she given me a strong preference about her clothes. So, no, there will be no Ecko Red miniskirts, no Puma sweatshirts, no Baby Phat capri pants, and definitely no Apple Bottoms tops because I don't want anything in her closet "designed" by Nelly...or that has a brand name referring to a woman's ass. Did I mention that she's TWO YEARS OLD? Next stop, Club Libby Lu! (Heh. Over my dead body.)
I am curious to know who thinks that clothes like this are appropriate for little girls. I understand there is a certain point in a kid's life where you need to allow her to exercise her own judgment (within reason) about what she wears. But how does that filter down to sequined tops and miniskirts in size 2T? And furthermore, who buys these things? Don't their girls play in the dirt, dribble food everywhere, and decorate their pants with markers?
Can somebody help me out here? Am I just disgusted, confused and disgusted, or just confused?
* Full disclosure: I do dress my kids in a lot of Gap clothes because they have great sales and the clothes are really cute, 100% cotton, and hold up well in the wash. And don't make my toddler look like a hooker, which is a bonus.
(Oh, and I wrote this post last night; this morning we woke up to the news at 5:30, explaining the foiled terrorist plot to blow up commercial airliners to the US from Britain. Suddenly not taking a big vacation this year looks juuuuust fiiine. Especially since it looks probable that you will not be able to take a bag full of goodies to entertain toddlers on the plane. So we might not be traveling far for at least four years. Assuming we haven't been blown to smithereens by then.)
1. People smoking at a park filled with kids. I know that there are very few places in New York City where you can legally smoke, but honestly! Miss M spent close to an hour in the sandbox, and there were two women chain-smoking on the bench about eight feet away from it. Yuck. I probably should have said something, but a) I am as non-confrontational as they come, b) my children weren't in imminent danger, and c) where else were they going to go? It was
5 pm on a beautiful summer afternoon. The playground was crawling with kids. Plus they looked scary and kept screaming at their own children.
2. I spent a couple of hours at the zoo on Monday with friends from Portland, M & B, and their two boys, who are 4 and 13 months. They come to New York for a week every summer to visit M's parents. M's parents were at the zoo as well, and the jaw-dropping part was that I could not believe how unhelpful they were with the kids. (I had originally thought that it was going to be a great adult to kid ratio--5:4--but it was really 3.1:4.) Yes, it was hot; yes, we spent most of the time in the children's part of the zoo; yes, part of being with a pre-schooler is answering the same questions over and over and listening to them say inane (but sometimes cute) things. But these are their grandchildren! They just sat on benches, complained about the weather (take a number!), and didn't engage the boys at all. Someone asked M's mother how old the younger one is, and she gave an answer that wasn't really close. The thing that killed me, though, is that she was going on and on about her other grandkids (M's brother's children).
I don't know why this bothered me so much, but it did. It made me sad. And also so grateful for my parents (who are far away) but especially for my in-laws, who call and beg to come visit with our kids. They take Miss M on Thursday afternoons so I can go to the farmers' market with just one very easy child. They drop everything to entertain them, spoil them rotten (but only after asking our permission), and brag about them to their friends. So...happy for me and Taxman, but sad for my friends. (I know there are plenty of people who have fraught relationships with their parents, but M & B are just about the nicest people on earth, in my experience. If they can't make it work, I fear for the rest of us.)
3. We are spending the weekend in the Berkshires, where it will be downright glacial after dark. The low 50s! Anyway, Miss M doesn't have appropriate clothes in her current size. The sweatshirt that fit her in May will of course not fit her now. So I stopped into the little girls' department at Macy's--it was their usual Wednesday one-day sale.
I was horrified. Probably 90 percent of the clothes they were displaying were name brands that were, of course, overpriced because they were name brands.* But really, even at 40 percent off, do I want my daughter look like a mini hip-hop princess? She's two! Only once in her entire life has she given me a strong preference about her clothes. So, no, there will be no Ecko Red miniskirts, no Puma sweatshirts, no Baby Phat capri pants, and definitely no Apple Bottoms tops because I don't want anything in her closet "designed" by Nelly...or that has a brand name referring to a woman's ass. Did I mention that she's TWO YEARS OLD? Next stop, Club Libby Lu! (Heh. Over my dead body.)
I am curious to know who thinks that clothes like this are appropriate for little girls. I understand there is a certain point in a kid's life where you need to allow her to exercise her own judgment (within reason) about what she wears. But how does that filter down to sequined tops and miniskirts in size 2T? And furthermore, who buys these things? Don't their girls play in the dirt, dribble food everywhere, and decorate their pants with markers?
Can somebody help me out here? Am I just disgusted, confused and disgusted, or just confused?
* Full disclosure: I do dress my kids in a lot of Gap clothes because they have great sales and the clothes are really cute, 100% cotton, and hold up well in the wash. And don't make my toddler look like a hooker, which is a bonus.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Our summer in a nutshell
brought to you in living color by Miss M...
Coloring
Reading
Splashing
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
As needed.
Coloring
Reading
Splashing
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
As needed.
Friday, August 04, 2006
My competition
As Taxman was kissing me goodbye this morning, a little voice piped up from across the room:
"Kiss me, Abba!"
This from someone not at all inclined to speak in complete sentences.
Hmm.
"Kiss me, Abba!"
This from someone not at all inclined to speak in complete sentences.
Hmm.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Awash in self-loathing
I can't stop screaming. At Miss M.
It makes me so sad and so frustrated.
What's worse is that she actually responds to the yelling Ema instead of the rational, even-tempered "Please close the top of the water bottle; it's spilling all over you and the carseat" Ema.
I wish I had an explanation. Is it the heat? General crankiness and stress? Sleep deprivation? The fact that I got out of bed at 5:45 this morning (and just about every morning) to sit with her in the living room and explain that as long as she was screaming, we couldn't nurse in bed because she was going to wake Baby AM and Abba. (For the record, Taxman and I alternate doing that.)
Whatever it is, I hate myself for it. I was out running errands today and was a third of the way to Taxman's office; I almost drove the rest of the way there to beg him to take Miss M from me. She shouldn't have to be with the screeching insane bitch. I sure don't want to be.
Excuse me, there is a pound of Trader Joe's milk chocolate covered raisins that needs my attention.
It makes me so sad and so frustrated.
What's worse is that she actually responds to the yelling Ema instead of the rational, even-tempered "Please close the top of the water bottle; it's spilling all over you and the carseat" Ema.
I wish I had an explanation. Is it the heat? General crankiness and stress? Sleep deprivation? The fact that I got out of bed at 5:45 this morning (and just about every morning) to sit with her in the living room and explain that as long as she was screaming, we couldn't nurse in bed because she was going to wake Baby AM and Abba. (For the record, Taxman and I alternate doing that.)
Whatever it is, I hate myself for it. I was out running errands today and was a third of the way to Taxman's office; I almost drove the rest of the way there to beg him to take Miss M from me. She shouldn't have to be with the screeching insane bitch. I sure don't want to be.
Excuse me, there is a pound of Trader Joe's milk chocolate covered raisins that needs my attention.
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