So, that happened...

Our little family had a pair of shoes to return to the local Nordstrom, and opted to go to Southcenter because there was another store in the area we wanted to visit.  

We seldom go to that location because there have been incidents in the past of "problem solving by gunshots" and we're just not into that.  

After the shoes were returned, we opted to make a loop thru the mall to see if there were any interesting stores.  It's still the pandemic and we haven't been anywhere in a while.  We picked up a cute custom shirt for the peanut and she bought an art piece from a vendor.  We decided to stop in one last store for summer clothes and Jason said he would meet us back at Nordstrom.  He went in search of a nice loo.

After finishing up at the short/cheapo summer shirt store Lucy and I were walking towards Nordstrom when we heard the gun shot.  We stopped, then heard a second and saw people running.   My childhood training of "walk don't run" failed to come back to me because my instinct was to grab that kid and RUN.

We made it to the door of the Nordstrom, but I'm not a runner and when my feet hit the marble of the store doorway, down I went.  I dislocated my shoulder in the process, and broke the humorous.   This took x-rays at the ER to confirm, but I was acutely aware that I was hurt. During the fall my purse went flying but my phone was in my line of sight and I was able to scoop it up and drop it in one of the shopping bags.

The really terrible thing was that Lucy and I got separated and she ended up outside the store with strangers, but without her mom or her dad.  These folks had no idea why the store was evacuated and a kind woman let Lucy borrow her phone so she could call her dad.

I was ushered thru the store via the back hallways to the same door that Lucy exited and was there pretty quickly.   Then, as I fished my phone from the shopping bag, I see the text from Jason.  "They are evacuating Nordstrom, see you at the car."   Clearly, the folks inside the Nordies did NOT know what had happened, which I guess is good.  The fewer people running and panicking the better.

Jason thankfully had a set of car keys and kept his cool while he drove a very upset Lucy and a hurt TPgal to the ER.  We opted to go to the one near our house vs. the one near the mall.   I knew I wasn't in a life threatening situation, so I didn't want to be the least hurt person at the nearest ER.  I had no idea how many people might have been hurt.  It was a long drive with me doing lots of breathing to meditate the pain away.

It's been 13 days and I'm still in a sling.  The bruise from the dislocation is rather epic (below) and the doc says that it's expected.  Sleeping is getting easier but it hurts. 

I see the orthopedist again on the 25th and start physical therapy that week.  He says it's almost a mirror image of the break from 2019.  He finds that funny, but the only comfort I take is that that break healed without surgery and other than minor stiffness when I try to hold my arm straight up it feels 100%.   This break is on my non-dominant arm, which makes life easer this go-round, but he said that rehab will be harder because of that, and because of the dislocation complication. 

As for Lucy, we are seeing a therapist to talk about the scary thing that happened to us and she's open to those conversations.  She needs to be able to go back to a mall without it being frightening.  

So, that's where we are.  I'm purple & gold, Lucy hates shopping even more than she did before and Jason is doing all the cooking and cleaning. The Nordies people found my purse and Jason was able to pick it up the next day. I'm still updating the automated credit card payments for the card that was cancelled.

8 days out

13 days

George Aubrey and others

I am not an eloquent person, but I want to put out to the universe that I want my lovely neighbors and beloved friends of color not to live in fear.

It’s not ok with me, a policeman’s daughter that they don’t experience the peace officer as a source of safety but as someone who might end their lives if they don’t act perfectly. It is ok with me that we are taking to the street to make it known it is time for a change.

It’s not ok with me that that the smart, lovely son of my community was followed home from the grocery store and threatened with violence by their neighbor who said he didn’t belong because he’s a strong athletic black “man” (he was 14). It is ok with me that our local police department came into their house and listened for over an hour to get the details and reassure this scared boy that he is entitled to his neighborhood and that he matters

.It’s not ok with me that folks are breaking into and looting businesses. Their actions are taking away from a needed protest. It’s ok with me that non-violent protesters are still showing up. It’s ok with me that there are some folks who can only help by praying, expressing their hope by participating in feeding programs.

It’s not ok with me that the President uses military level force on protesters to clear the way to hold a photo op on the steps of a church building while holding a prop. This action is no more Christian than it would be Jewish if he was holding a Torah on the steps of a Temple. It’s a show, and I don’t buy it.

The pain my coworkers, friends, and neighbors are feeling is real. My love, support, and prayers go out to them. I hope we can see beyond the distraction of the looters and agree that even someone has possibly broken a law can be taken into custody without having their life ended, or go for a jog without having their life ended or being a lawful gun owner without having their life ended or having a tail light out without having their life ended or playing cops & robbers in a public park without having their life ended, or react badly when police randomly/mistakenly break into their apartment without notice without having their life ended, or walk home from the corner mart with skittles, or...or...or..

For the record, I have never lived in fear of any of these things...we should ALL feel that way.

Crossing the lines

Sometimes the technology demands of others force you to change your ways.  

I admit that I'm the last person on earth that is still using the Blogger platform to share my witty and amazing view of the world.  I am on Facebook and use YouTube to house short videos of the kid doing kid-like things.

I have a Google+ account, but don't really see the value.

I "Twitter", but it feels a lot like standing on my back porch and yelling very short statements to the universe.

I do not rededit.  When I see screenshots of other people's discussions I wonder why...

I do not instagram.  I think the filtered pictures are nice, but if you want to see my pictures, come to the blog or facebook.

Today...in order to post something on a blog I admire, I had to sign up for Tumbler.  I don't know if I'll be spending loads of time over there, but we'll see.  

I linked this blog to that account to "expand" my audience.  We'll see about that.

In reviewing past blog posts it's clear that I use to be funny.  However, mostly my humor was bitching about other stuff.  There's not too much time these days for bitching, so I have turned into the dreaded "Mommy Blogger."'

Soon all posts will be about potty training, cheerios and Elmo.

FML.

My uncomfortable truth

I, like a lot of people are heartsick over the jury decision in the George Zimmerman trial.  It appears that Florida is the place to go to get away with what seems like straight up murder.  Perhaps George and Casey Anthony can laugh about it over a beer.

The law is a complex thing but to me the "stand your ground" rule in Florida is flawed.  It says you can do anything to someone to taunt them, and then when they react you can get scared for your life and then kill them.   Stand your ground seems to mean that the clock doesn't start ticking legally until you say you're afraid, regardless of what you did to provoke the situation. That doesn't seem right to me.

I wonder if that means that Trayvon would have been acquitted if he HAD killed Zimmerman?  I mean, he was being followed and felt threatened, clearly for his life.    I doubt that the wheels of justice would have rolled his way had the night gone a different direction.

I will admit that I am not immune to profiling people.  I do it all day.

• Moms - safe
• Grandpas with kids - safe.
• Teenagers - kinda scary  
• Dirty homeless guy - unknown, walk wide 
• Salespeople at Starbucks - friendly 
• Counter lady at the Post Office - scary
• Loud, raucous group of people waiting for bus on 2nd & Pike - scary, avoid interaction
• Person in business suit waiting for bus on 2rd & Pike, not scary, but avoid interaction unless necessary.
• Person in a hoodie on a dark rainy night - unknown, avoid interaction
• Two 20 year olds on my door step in blue pants and white shirts - Mormons, be nice but so away.
• The dudes selling 'steak' door to door - potential robbers, be firm, take picture of car as they leave.
• The woman selling magazines door to door for points to help inner city kids - be nice, but no.
• Chris Brown - scary, entitled punk, thug
• Justin Beiber - scary, entitled punk, wannabe thug

Anyone who thinks that we will be a racially, socially blind society is crazy.  What we can be is aware of the preconceived notions we have about each other and try to be better.  I think it will be hard to be an urban black young man for many years longer than any of us are comfortable with.   But let's be honest, the inner city lawless thug is a person, he is not at all representational of all young black men, but he is real, and one that is glorified by movies, tv and music, and I find him a bit scary.  I may be a racist for having a category for the angry kid with a gun, but so be it.  I certainly don't think or place every young person of color into that category and the ones that do go there aren't all black.

I know people judge me too, I'm a middle aged white lady who drives a 2 year old around in a white mini-van.  I'm harmless right?  But, maybe you see an entitled, racist, elitist snob. I couldn't have anything in common or care about anyone who doesn't live on my block or drive my kind of car.  Surely not.

Profiling happens everywhere and all the time.  In the business world we meet people from all over the globe and interact on a common theme, but we've already created a false society because only the educated and smart people (and for some reason me) are invited to the workplace.   It's a racially diverse group and race isn't an issue, but it is not a socioeconomically diverse group, it is a whole bunch of "haves" and ramen eating future-haves.

"Lucky" for most of us, we get to point fingers at Florida and call them backwards as if it has nothing to do with us.  But, like many other things that are wrong, we owe it to ourselves to let them know we don't support their backwards ways.  Put the pressure on with your wallet, your vacation money and tell the businesses that operate in Florida that the laws are unacceptable.  Sure, Disney doesn't make laws in Florida, but they have influence and by not participating in socially right causes, they are implying approval.

Boycotting companies like Disney isn't my point, but an example of how 'we' can influence 'them'.   We have to do something.  Sitting around saying "shame on them" but not acting or speaking out is doing nothing.

I feel terribly for Trayvon's mom and dad.  I pray that they know that complete strangers care about their pain and that gives them some comfort.

Science, Parties and FIremen

Science

It's a little unnerving when the art/science project of the day is presented at home.  This lovely bottle contains water, glitter and oil.  It is designed to demonstrate emulsion.  Let that wash over you... she's two years old.  EMULSION!?  Alas, I am supportive and encouraging but there is a part of me (not even a small part, nee a large one) that wonders what the holy moses is our day care thinking?  Sure, they glued the lid onto this portable container of 'you need a new carpet', but that kid can break through walls, dried hot glue will not stop her from the super satisfying task of opening a water bottle!

Secondly, we weren't told what the "used water bottle" would be utilized for when it was requested.  Had I known I would have dug deep into the recycling pile for plastics that contain NO recycled materials and are thick - like space shuttle window glass thick.  Instead, I sent Lucy into this art/science project with a bottle from the Costco water.  They pride themselves on the fastness in which their plastic breaks down.

Sadly, the emulsion bottle will likely be 'lost' while she's at school today. I hope this isn't heartbreaking. However, getting rid of it will also be a challenge as you can't simply dump a cup of oil down the drain.  I think perhaps the gravel garden on the far side of our house will have a sparkle to it for a while.  Sorry Mother Earth, day care hates you.

picnic in the park

Last night was the first concert of the Summer Thursday's at Pine Lake.  Our regular companions were occupied and we made the trek anyway.  Lucy still seems to love her chair that is perfectly Lucy sized and true to form didn't eat much dinner.  I thought the selection was kid perfect, grapes, pickles, turkey/cheese roll-up and a few potato chips.  I was wrong... she ate four grapes and some juice.  She's clearly not starving and there are nights when she eats and eats, so I'm not going to set my hair on fire when she doesn't.

Before we left for the park, Lucy and I walked down to the neighborhood picnic to say hello to the neighbors.  I suppose we should have made that our only activity for the night, after all I am the one who is sad we don't know the neighbors better, but in spite of what you think you know about me, I'm nervous about the walk up to newish people and chat scenario. I'm the illusive "omnivert" an extrovert with introvert traits.  That's for a different post.

The fire department was at the party and Lucy met her first official fire fighter, who was kind enough to give her a sticker even though she was hiding behind my legs.  I will miss that stage when it's over. She knew the truck was exciting and wanted her picture taken, but was sure to tell me that it isn't a toy. She knows a lot of things now.

The future firefighter

packed up and headed home.

Yes, I am going to blog about poop (again?)

"I poo poo in da bed mama."

"Yes you did Peanut, but that was days ago.  It was an accident.  Everything is ok."

This has been our conversation after every nap and each morning as we start our day since Saturday afternoon.

The event itself was unexpected and we certainly tried not to overreact so as not to traumatize her, but it clearly had an impact.  She was doing the normal "I don't want to nap" complaints which generally last about 5 minutes before she zonks out for two hours or so.  Jason and I had lots of tasks to accomplish during the freedom window (nap) and were moving around the house quietly but quickly.  I came in from the garage and could tell that the no-nap cries had escalated to the point where it was clear that something was wrong.

By the time I made it upstairs, I heard Jason go into her room and a second later he calmly but urgently called out "CODE BROWN, CODE BROWN."   I was behind him in seconds.  He had Lucy on the changing table and was cleaning her up.  I grabbed wipes and did a collection.  After a quick flush I went back to scoop up all the bedding and friends (damn the stuffed animals and dolls) for a mid-day washing machine field trip.

There has been some debate among the adults in the house about when and how the diaper failure happened.  It has been at least eight weeks since Lucy has removed her diaper in the bed and she has never removed a pull up.  One theory is that the diaper came off during 'the event' rather than before.  We will never know how it happened, but I think the question of why is more of a karmic one rather than logical.  Parents of toddlers must experience this at some point.

With all the bedding in the machine and the flurry of activity around getting Miss Lucy put back together the possibility of a nap was zero.  She and I went downstairs for quiet time (Curious George) while Jason tried to finish some of the chores we had hoped to knock out together.

Later in the afternoon we sadly discovered that during the rapid clean up, Jason cleaned the kid, I cleaned the bed but neither of us located the actual diaper.  These fancy diapers are filled with super absorbent gel.  Washing machines are filled with water and the two together are a very bad combination.  The 'fabric' in the diapers is not strong enough to withstand the expansion that occurs during a wash / rinse cycle.  Upon failure, the diaper released thousands of small gel balls into the machine and all over the sheets and the wet furry friends.

The newly gelled sheets and friends were taken outside shaken violently then rewashed.  I'm pretty confident that if Jason had been observed shaking the naked, wet Raggedy Ann dolls on the front porch that the authorities would have been summoned.  While the stuffed animals were being violated, the washing machine had to be wiped out and vacuumed.  All around - yuck.

I think its kind of sad that the whole event has had such a lasting impact upon Lucy.  She looks so sad when she tells me that she 'poo poo in da bed'.  I try to be reassuring and we talk about using the potty and telling us before she needs to go.  My knowledge of psychological issues is limited to about five college courses in 1989 therefore I'm no expert, but I do recall that too much emphasis on the potty process can really screw a person up.  She's so young and I think it's too early to select the issue that she'll be in therapy over just yet.  I'd like to wait longer and see what my options are, I'm sure we'll find something much better than toddler poop.

I miss you too!

The full time job thing, the mom thing, the wife thing and the trying to be a good person thing sure gets in the way of having time to humorously snark about life on this blog.   I do miss it and there are moments when I think, oh I wish I could capture that moment and blog about it.  Here's the summary of happenings:

Our 2 year old is acting her age.  She is happy in the morning, likes to come into our room and snuggle before we get moving.  She prefers to hang with me but will give Jason some loving and if I'm not home he is perfectly perfect to cozy up to while she wakes up.  I think it's sweet that she will nestle in close to my side and root around to find my arm and make sure that I'm hugging her.  It is less sweet that she doesn't let Jason cozy in.  I mean, if his hand wanders over to give either of us a loving pat on the arm, she takes his hand and pushes it away.  He does a pretty good job of not getting his feelings hurt and I remind her that he was my boyfriend first.   She also has to endure kisses between mom & dad.  (Nothing X rated, but I think it's important that she sees that Mommy loves Daddy too.)

Getting dressed for school is usually a mini-battle.  I can see that she doesn't want to go to school, but once we're on our way she's happy as a lark.  She likes her friends, she likes the art activities and when they get to play outside (which is any day that it isn't raining) she comes home super tired.  Now that she's two she's allowed to go over onto the big play equipment and I know she's digging that.

When she's super tired after school it is a challenge to get through dinner.  She likes to pull up her step-stool and hang out in the kitchen while we cook.  I let her "help" and that can be as easy as her directing where to put the bowls and which egg to crack or counting (to two) the number it items we'll be using.  Sometimes she gets her own bowls and a few fish crackers to sort while I do chopping.   When it comes time to use the stove we use the power of two parents to divide and conquer.  One parent goes with Shorty to her play kitchen while the other messes with the real kitchen.

Dinners are hit and miss.  Sometimes she eats and sits at the table like a champ, and others she's too busy, tired or bored to play nice.  When we make a real dinner, she eats what we eat and other dinner options aren't offered.  However, like last night where she made a wonderful dent in her chicken stir fry she was offered a yogurt.  I know she wont starve to death on the nights where she doesn't eat, but I'm happier when she eats.

We are in a state of constant motion from the moment she comes in the door until she's in bed.  Thankfully, that is still pretty early. Eight p.m. is the magic moment of her door closing and we get to high five each other and go do adult things.  Last night, "adult things" was to really clean the kitchen floor and then watch Survivor.  I know, I know, too much sexy.

In other parts of our life, we have some friends who are going through a terrible trauma.  Our job is really to be supportive.  A group of gals took a day to go see them (they are in an out of town hospital) and it was an experience I'll probably remember my whole life.  I tend to hide in my cave when things are really bad and I find it hard to allow people, even those I care about and trust into that vulnerable space.  Well, my friend is in that cave and she generously opened up and let us in.  We all walked away feeling hung over and emotionally spent, but I hoped that we were sponges and wicked some of her pain, anger, hurt, fear, disappointment, and every other emotion she's going through.  I know that the four of us can't possibly take all of it away, but maybe for that day it lightened her load a bit.   Also, I think that being a part of the beginning of this journey she's on will help smooth the way to be able to support her in the long run.  Instead of being filled with "oh what should I say, what should I do?"  Now I know what she wants and it is something I absolutely have to give.  How strange is it that the simple answer to the question of what to do for people in pain is: "love me like you did before."

Part of our visit involved getting her into a safe space where she could say all the things you're not supposed to say when going through something really hard.  I think if you're in the midst of hell you get to say what you want about your own fears, pain, anger or whatever and your people are required to let it bounce off.   I do think it's important to know when this 'say what you need to' is appropriate. It was clear to me that I had no advice to give, all I had was a kind ear and the occasional agreement that some of the "go to" things that people say to be helpful simply aren't. Things like:

1) God has a plan.
2) God won't give you more than you can handle.
3) Doctors can be wrong, everything will be just fine.
4) Don't give up hope.
5) Have you tried to do XXXX?

1& 2: The God business is rough.  I believe in God, albeit not in the ghostly white ball of light way, but in the there can be beauty in all things way.  I don't think God takes time to decide when we're going to get cancer or hit by a drunk driver or die of old age.  I think God is in the people who come to our aid and comfort us in those dark times.  God is part of the "I guess I'll take one more step" spunk that some of us pull from nowhere.   I call it God, you may call it something else and that's fine.  But, damn it, don't use God to explain away the dark, terrible things that happen.  These things are part of life and we will all go through death in one way or another.  Sure, we may grow from these experiences and be a different person or maybe even happy on the other side, but pick your moment to talk about God when dealing with folks who have to remember to breathe from second to second.  With that said, please pray like crazy for your friends if that's your thing.  They may not believe in it, but if you do - send those good intentions into the world.  It can't hurt.

3: Doctors can be wrong.  Indeed, but you my friend are not  a doctor.  If a diagnosis is from a real, honest to betsy, knows how to bill insurance doctor, then shaddup about the Neurosurgeon being wrong.  Chances are, by the time your friend tells you what the doctor has said they've seen a couple doctors.

4: Don't give up hope.  This seems harmless, but to some folks, hope is risky.  Hope can open you up to more pain.  Again, this is all about knowing your audience.  For some, expecting the worst is a way of protecting their hearts.  My friend said this exact thing, and I told her that I would do the hoping for her.  Someone needs to hope and if you don't have it, I'll do it!

5: Have you tried XXX?  See #3.  All experiences are different and the all fruit diet that Aunt Mertha used to clear up her pancreatic cancer may not be the best option for me.  One of the things that I think is the most scary about dealing with something like cancer is that there isn't a map.  First you'll go here for 3 weeks, then here for 2 months, then we'll do this.  It's pretty much different for each person.  If you have a good doctor referral, give it up.  Other than that just, listen listen listen then listen some more.

In the end, even those folks who say the wrong thing (often that's me) only mean well and are trying their best.  It's important to remember that when reacting to the oddball things that are said.  Now, if someone suggests that it is your own fault that terrible thing X happened to you, you're allowed to pop them in the nose.  Clarification:  if you're about to get a Darwin Award then it may be your own fault and hold the nose popping for further analysis.

So, I'm filled with perspective this week.  I'm over the moon happy with my life these days and yet that real world stuff oozes in.  I suppose this is real life.  Oh how I'd like to punch it in the throat every now and then.

We can afford pants, she just doesn't like them.

Why she won't wear pants at home is a mystery.  She's so busy you would think pants would be helpful.

We now have rules like "everyone wears pants to dinner". This is not a statement I thought I'd ever have to utter.  "Keep your pants on please."  That is something I think every wife says from time to time, but setting a rule about wearing pants at the table is not what I expected from parenting.

We use the super exciting Elmo underwear to keep her from stripping out of the diaper too.  I thought I would explain why there are underpants over a diaper.  Don't judge me...you try to manage an almost 2 year old.



And yes, she is calling herself "Lucia".  That's what the teachers and kids at daycare call her.  I don't really mind, because she knows how to say Lucy and she responds to Lucy.  I have made it clear that they can call her Lucia, but when writing her name it will be L-u-c-y.   Hopefully this is only a phase, but when I drop her off in the morning the other kids call out in excitement "Lucia is here! Lucia is here!"  I wonder if they are a bit envious that names like Lily, Connor, Zoe and Mason don't have Spanish equivalents.

Santa Pictures

NOT HAPPY!!!

We're thinking of taking Lucy to get her picture with Santa. Unlike the cute Easter picture I fear it won't turn out well:

Get us the f*ck out of here!

Moooommmmmiiieeeee!!!!!!!!!!!

Questionable Parenting

I still feel like this blogging thing is a nice creative outlet.  However when I am inspired to share my deep and meaningful inner thoughts I tend to find myself knee deep in crayons, apple sauce or life safety issues for a toddler.

I'm not complaining (much).  This parenting gig is pretty great.  She thinks I'm awesome and wants me to play with her all the time.  My heart melts when she grabs my hand or when we're talking with someone new (to her) and she hides in my legs.  I do recall when I was a kid how there was safety in those parental legs.

Lucy knows she's supposed to sit when she eats and she knows where the "jellies" are.  Jellies are fruit snacks made with fruit juice - essentially candy with the idea of fruit to make us parents feel better.  When we enter the kitchen she plops herself on the floor in front of the pantry door and sweetly asks 'jess pees' this translates to "May I please have a jelly snack; I'm quite hungry and you were put on this earth to meet my needs." Note her excellent use of the semi-colon, an art lost on most toddlers.

Last night I gave her the little bag of delightful treats and decided to sit with her while she ate them.  Yup, I'm the kind of mom who will plop herself on the floor.  It serves multiple purposes, it shows her that the floor is for all people and helps me find the dust bunnies that I can't see from my staggering height.  Ok, 5 foot 5 inches tall is not staggering per se, but it is hard to find all the dust bunnies from that altitude.

We were sitting on the floor with our backs resting against some cabinets. Her feet were stretched out in front of her as were mine.  As mine are a tiny bit longer than hers (see above noted paragraph) my feet were resting on the bottom rung of a nearby stool.  She and I were deep into a conversation about the merits of grape vs. cherry jellies when she started to skootch forward on her bum.  I was about to ask her where she was going when I figured it out.  She slid forward until she could prop her feet onto the foot rest where my feet were.

I know... trite parenting stuff.  GET A ROOM.  But wait, this is my room.  So I get to tell you (if you're still here) how it made me smile, but also made me take a mental note that this little jelly filled being is seriously paying attention to what is going on around her.  No more off color sarcastic jokes that "she doesn't understand".  The last thing I need is for her to make a "dirty sanchez" comment to the teachers at school.

It's kind of a silly story - we have an entire community of Fisher Price Little People. They are pretty cute and have come into our home on airplanes, trucks, buses and the Super Friends transportation system.   They are quite the ethnically diverse group and we have named each one and made an effort to keep the names in line with their heritage.  Lele is on her way to visit family in Hawaii, Jamal is the airplane pilot.  Pat is the androgynous tourist.   Madeline is the token disabled kid (glasses AND a wheelchair.)  Mr. Sanchez is the school crossing guard. It's a toss up as to whether he is Hispanic or Indian but Lucy cannot pronounce Gaurav or Chandramouli just yet, so Hispanic he shall be.   Well, last night Lucy took a diaper off one of her dolls and gently placed Mr. Sanchez (and a rather fresh Lego lady) into the diaper and we, the inappropriate parents, made a Dirty Sanchez joke.   I guess at this point you're either eye rolling at our horrid child rearing  skills or running to the Internet to look it up.  For the record knowledge of what a Dirty Sanchez is does not imply participation or acceptance of such activities for this household.   You may do what you like - but ick.

Madeline and Mr. Sanchez

"Dirty Sanchez"

Gosh and now that I've written Dirty Sanchez into my blog four times it will pop up whenever someone does a search for it.  What a boring shock that will be.

I would like to note that at no point was the DS phrase mentioned out loud in front of the child and we have always spoken of all the little people with the utmost respect.  Other than influencing the origins of their names they are all equal in our eyes.  I'm however ashamed to admit that pretty little Lego woman is a problem and we do find her in many compromising positions with her two Lego men friends.  If it keeps up we may have to send her to readjustment camp to focus on her morals, if she can't change her ways that little girl slut may have to move out.

On a more acceptable parental activity front. We put up our Christmas tree and took the strategy to install the tree (pre-lit) one day and put up soft kid-friendly ornaments the next and then fill it in with all of the other special items the following day.  She is naturally drawn to the tree, but after explaining that we look with our eyes and not our hands, and then a quick round one, round two of time outs for grabbing items on the tree she seems to appreciate that we're not messing around with our statement that she isn't to touch the tree.    We have left off the delicate antique glass ornaments this year and the candy canes are still up for debate.

That's where we are this week.  I'l check back in later and I'm sure there will be pictures of the kid in the future.

My lost day

I was worthless yesterday.

I couldn't get warm, even after a long shower in the morning, couldn't focus and fell asleep after taking Lucy to day care in the morning.  I managed to make it through my meetings, but the last one of the day was conducted on the couch in our living room while I was tucked under a down blanket.  Being at my desk is far more "worky" but I knew FedEx was coming and didn't think I could muster the stairs in a quick fashion.

The thing that should really let you know how not good I was feeling is that I only ate a banana, an applesauce, two pieces of toast and a scrambled egg yesterday.

Thankfully, I have a great person in my life who made dinner and cleaned up, did Lucy baths and put her to bed.  After we ate dinner, I crawled upstairs to take my own bath and then go to bed.  Sure, it felt wrong to go to bed at 8pm at night, but I think it did the trick.  I'm back to being me today.

Babies, Planes and Crazy People oh my!

When I was a 350 pound person and I would board an airplane I could see the look in people's eyes as I squished down the isle. "Please don't sit by me..."  It is never said out loud but is telegraphed in every look and especially the relief as you look to the next row.    Now, as a parent, I feel the same sort of looks of dread while waiting to board the airplane with Lucy.  Thankfully we have the means to purchase a seat for her, so we are taking up an entire row, but the people around us are clearly worried that Lucy will be a screamer.  So far, on her six flights she has been mostly reasonable.

I read an article about a discount airline that is banning kids from the first few rows behind first class to give their priority customers a more pleasant flight.    The comments to the article were all over the place in support of and alternatively blasting the concept.    As a member of the frequent flyer world with priority seating and boarding benefits on my chosen airline I would be so pissed if told we had to sit in the back because of Lucy.  For the record Alaska airlines has never suggested this and furthermore told us it was acceptable to bring Lucy as a lap infant on our flight class flight to Maui.

Sure, kids are more likely than any adult to scream and yell while on a flight.  However it doesn't mean they aren't expressing the same emotions that we are all having.  Everyone wants to get up, move around, not be hot, eat something, and pee when they want. Actually, the diaper set can make a tinkie whenever they want; they don't know how lucky they are.  

I had to stop reading the comments section on the article when I found myself penning a reply to the 'nice' girl who said that all kids are brats and that people with kids shouldn't fly - ever.  Also, I think if I ever see "JJ Johnson" in person I'll punch him in the face for threatening to hit a mom whose kid kicked the back of his seat.   (Sorry 7A, I tried really hard to get Lucy to stop touching your seat, I worked on that message the entire flight.  But you, crazy lady on the return flight, I didn't work so hard because you reclined your seat.  Have a heart!)

I'm sure the airlines have done a cost analysis about offering child free flights, at a premium I'm sure.  Clearly it isn't worth the effort or it would be available.   I could see offering a kid-free flight to adult type locations such as Las Vegas, but I've been told that families live there too.   Perhaps an all-first class plane to make it financially difficult for the average family to use.  Oh wait, they have those, they are called private jets.

Kids fly.  If you're lucky you get an easy, mostly happy kid with parents that are actively engaged to keep junior happy during the flight.  If you're really lucky they will buy you a drink when the kid is melting down.


But, if they do break down and enforce a kids-free section on flights, I also want one to move those smelly, talkative almost drunk people away, and that know it all guy - he certainly needs his own section.  And the 'dropper' you know that lady that drops and spills everything - put her in a bubble.

Next time we fly with Lucy, I'm going to hand out something like this:

This is how we really live...

HORRORS!

Today is Cleaning Fairy day and I totally forgot.  Normally I pick up in the rooms where she does her work - the bathrooms and the kitchen as well as the common areas so she's not cleaning around our stuff.

I arrived home from my morning meeting and realized my error and can see that I left every bit of morning hair and face prep on my bathroom counter, Lucy's pj's and toys were strewn about our bedroom and downstairs there are all manner of dirty cups, sippy containers and glasses on the counter.  Thankfully they hadn't worked their way into the kitchen yet , so I was able to clean a path for them, but still it's embarrassing.  What is even more embarrassing than the chaos of a quick clothing change for Lucy this morning is that I'm in the midst of a laundry cycle - there are piles of dirty in our closet and piles of clean folded items draped over the couch.

clean piles....

Miss Angelica laughed at me when I apologized for the state of the house.  I know they don't expect the house to be clean when they arrive to clean, but sorting through piles of stuff and picking baby clothes and toys off the floor is not what I pay for.

So not only am I horrified, but now I have to finish the laundry.  Yuck.

...ok

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I feel dizzaaay

Processing

Boy wouldn't life be easier if we didn't have to deal with other peoples feelings?  I suppose the trade off for the complicated situations are the moments of peace and utter happiness that comes with loving yourself and those around you.

I was secretly pleased when I joined Jason's family only to discover that there was familial unrest and long seeded angst over issues that occurred during the childhoods of some of the cousins.  Not pleased in that I was taking joy in their inability to get along or cope as adults, but comfort in the fact that similar situations in my own family aren't as unique as I thought they were.

Since our wedding, when an unrelated crisis occurred and things came to a head, two members of the immediate cousins have stepped out of the family under the idea that it's easier not to deal with anyone else.  Having never really had the opportunity to know these folks as warm, loving people the loss is mostly the hurt my most important person has experienced.  I don't mean to suggest that he's ever sat down and wept over this situation, but I can tell that the withdrawal of friendship and the harsh things said about other members of the family are hurtful.  

For me, it is a lost opportunity to welcome the entire family into my life.   You may not believe it based upon what I share here, but I'm pretty guarded about my feelings.  (I get that from my dad.)  Now, with the inclusion of Jason and Lucy in my world I'm extremely guarded about their feelings as well.  Should the "family rift" be healed and everyone starts coming to family events again, it will be a long time before (if ever) I warm up an open myself or openly welcome these folks into our inner sphere.

I state all this because a similar situation is occurring on my side of the family and I'm considering drawing a line in the sand.  The decision is a lot more difficult because I know these folks and have grown up with them in my life.

Without getting into the gory details, one of the sisters is mad at my mom and has decided to cut off communication.  I suppose this is fine, if at the age of 60, you decide it is easier to step out of family events rather than deal with the offending sister.  However, it should be no surprise that doing that means you're opting out of all events where said sister is present.   I mean, if you're mad at me and don't want to see me, don't be shocked that Jason isn't popping by to say hi and have a glass of wine from time to time.  We are a team.  Similarly, as much as I have fond memories of time spent with this aunt and uncle, my heart lies with my parents.

Unfortunately, during Lucy's birthday weekend my failure to invite my aunt and uncle to Lucy's 1st birthday festivities became known to them in a way that was unintentionally, but none the less hurtful and my uncle called to ask about it.  I tried to cover (lie) to deflect, but as the conversation went on I fessed up that since I hadn't seen or heard from them since June, when they came to a picnic at my parents house and but didn't speak a single word to my mom, and then didn't respond to a genuine invitation to come to our home for a visit, that I thought I was following the party line and was leaving them alone per their own desires.   The phone call was uncomfortable and compounded by the fact that we had house guests who could hear my side of the conversation and were thankfully too polite to inquire.

So, here's the part that raises my blood pressure.  While my uncle was on the phone asking about what was going on and why they weren't invited, my aunt was in her car driving over to my parents house.  In the heat of her anger, she assumed that my mom was preventing me from having a relationship with her.  Her choice of names for my mother was (to be polite) unacceptable and the fact that she had to be told emphatically to get out of the house is troubling.  Be hurt, be angry, but don't forget yourself and lose control.  I live in a peaceful world, a peaceful house with people who are loving.  Sure, there are frustrations, but we do not scream and call each other names that rhyme with "sticking finch".    I don't want Lucy exposed to that within the comfort of her own family and I don't want her to think it is ever acceptable to refer to anyone in the family in those terms.  You can disagree, and even dislike members of your family, but disrespecting them in their own home is ... trashy.   Furthermore, the idea that at the age of 43, that my mom has any power whatsoever to prohibit me from having a relationship with anyone I want is preposterous.  It's laughable, I think Jason snorted milk through his nose at the idea that I could be "controlled".   I took it as a compliment that I'm a confident, self-assured woman and not a bull-headed, moose who does what I want regardless of rational thought.  Don't correct me, I like the way I'm looking at it.

My uncle asked me to reach out to my aunt to apologize for the invitation oversight and maybe suggest times we could get together (in neutral territory.)  I agreed, but that was before I knew about the drama at my parents house.  I've been mulling over a response and it isn't very "come visit!" or "let's meet for dinner".   They are 100% entitled to not like or spend time with anyone they like, but the same is true for me.  Furthermore, just as I'm not inclined to expose Lucy to the nuttiness that are the "angry cousins" I'm not inclined to give her lots of time with people who openly express anger towards her Grandmother.  (And by lots, you know I mean none....)

Life is too short to be spent being angry with each other, but if that's the path you're on, I can't stop you, but I can keep your angry energy out of my home.  Tragedy and sadness will come regardless of what I do, but our daily life can be peaceful and happy, so that when we're touched by the hard things in life we have a solid foundation to rely on.  (Is that too Zen for you?)

Anyway, I'm thinking if I respond to my aunt that an open letter to all the sisters is in order.  There's a lot of re-interpretation that happens among themselves and I'd rather be an open book than open for paraphrasing.

We'll see.  My next step is to write a letter, share it with my sane partner and then decide what to do.

Problem Solved

It looks like some lady named Vicki from somewhere Pennsylvania won my HGTV dream house.  I want to hate her for walking away with my fantasy vacation home, but after watching the video of her winning I can't.  She cried the good cry and still managed to be funny.  Her husband even dissed HGTV a bit when he said they watch the channel every night to put them to sleep (ha ha... I do that with CSI.)

Good for her.  I hope the dilemma of how to sleep more than 6 people in that 5,000 square foot house isn't too much of a burden.

I guess we're destined for the next dream house.

the winner of my house

Date Night

Jason and I got dressed up and went out to dinner for his birthday. Normally, dinner out for us is the 4:45 seating at Casa Durango, our neighborhood hot spot for burritos and carne asada. Antonio doesn't mind that we bring little miss discards cheerios on the floor and we like the food. Someday, she'll stay up past 7:00 on a regular basis and we may be able to dine out with the general population again. Until then, dinners out are either with the no-teeth set (oldies and babies) or it's s big deal that involves babysitters. If I have to pay a babysitter, I'm going to do dinner right. So, for Jason's birthday we dressed up and went to El Gaucho. Sure, it's expensive as hell, but I got to put on a dress and the fancy shoes.

Our Lucy sitters arrived early so they could play with her so we headed to the restaurant early. We enjoyed a cocktail at the bar. We had all night to give each other love eyes so a rap with the bartender is fun. We discussed the merits of infused vodkas. (Don't be surprised if we whip up a batch for the summer.) After our cocktail hour we were escorted to our table, a lovely two top in the back of the dark candle lit section. This restaurant had a few sections that, in my observation, are seated based upon your mode of dress. The well lit section above the bar seems to be filled with the jeans and t-shirt crowd, the section we were in had the suits, jackets and ladies in sparkle gear or dresses. There is an elevated ring of booths around the perimeter of the dining area and those were occupied by request during the reservation process (maybe next time that will be my request.) There is a second level that is mostly private rooms for larger parties. I asked the waiter about the segregation of diners based upon their mode of dress and he (in his tuxedo) swore up and down that it wasn't true. However, not one t-shirt was in our section, nor have I ever seen it in my many (4) visits to the Gaucho.

We brought our own bottle of wine from our collection and were happy to pay the $25 corkage fee. We never would have paid the restaurant price for that wine, and we had been storing it for a while. It was yummy. Our dinner was wonderful, although my fillet medallions were overcooked and in spite of the dark location I could tell immediately. Our waiter arrived back at the table within seconds and pulled a flashlight from his tuxedo and took one look, gasped in horror and whipped my plate away before I could say "oh... I'll eat it". While I waited they brought me a plate of the most heavenly mashed potatoes that God ever created. I knew better than to smear them all over my face, but I really wanted to do it.

Jason and I talked like we were on an amazing first date about everything under the sun but we also gossiped about the people around us. We like to try and pick out the people on a date, the bored married couples, the people who are fighting and those that either have just had sex, or will be having sex in the next 90 minutes or so. To our right were two tables of two, a young couple with a bouquet of roses and petals sprinkled on the table and within arms reach an older couple who seemed to be celebrating a birthday - again with a small bouquet of roses. I felt bad that I hadn't thought that far ahead in requesting flowers to make Jason's birthday dinner that much more special. (I'm such a jerk.) To our left was a larger table and the couples arrived separately. The first to arrive was a couple in their late 20's, she was a lovely blond and he a dark haired dreamboat. They seemed happy and chatty with each other. However, when the second couple arrived, a brown haired woman with a man who looked eerily like the first guy the blond clammed up like someone took a crap on her skirt. (what!?) Anywho, when the older couple arrived it was clear it was the parents of the two men and the ladies were the wives. Instantly, the dark haired woman started talking and laughing with the mom and the blond didn't say another word the whole night. Everyone but her ordered appetizers, steaks and drank wine. They had a great time. She however ate salad, drank either water or a tall clear cocktail and seemed to be wishing for death. I thought how awful it must be to be happily in love with your man but not connect with his boisterous family. Frankly, the family seemed fun so the poor girl came off like she has a major stick up her butt.

 We lingered over dinner and dessert and the older couple to our right finished dinner and left. I noticed that they left their roses on the table, so after a few moments I said to Jason, "I'm getting you flowers." Without even having to stand up, I reached over and pulled the small bouquet onto our table and we proceeded to talk and enjoy our night. Maybe a minute later the woman was back, in her coat, standing at her former table. The waiter arrived and she said, "I forgot my flowers, but they aren't here." HORROR. I felt badly and was terribly embarrassed. I fessed up immediately and as I handed them to her I sad "I'm so sorry, we thought you left them. Happy birthday." She looked confused, took the flowers and left without saying a word. (I'm sure I don't come off very well in her version of the story.) I turned back around and Jason was laughing at me. Clearly, my horror was humorous. I'll give him credit for acknowledging that it was a no harm, no foul situation.

A moment later the waiter arrived at our table with a new bouquet of roses in hand and pointed to the other table of two and said "that couple over there would like you to have their roses." HORROR. If you thought I was embarrassed before, imagine how that was compounded upon realizing that the folks around us saw me steal the flowers and then have to give them back. I leaned over and said "you don't want to give me your roses, I'm a common criminal." They laughed and said "enjoy!" Jason and I had a good laugh... well, he laughed and I tried to compose myself. As the evening wound down we were ready to head home and our waiter brought us the bill (horror again, but it was expected) and reminded us to take our flowers home. We were just getting on the freeway when I remembered that I forgot to grab the roses. Oh well, at least the generous couple had already left and didn't see me abandon their sweet gesture.

 Happy Birthday to my special guy, next time I'll buy you your own roses.

Yesterday was not my day

I was tired yesterday after not getting a good nights sleep.  I can't entirely blame the baby as she slept until 4am without needing a Mommy intervention, but I woke up at 2am and after doing a panicky crib check (does that ever really end?) I could not shut my brain off and go back to sleep.   We girls to tend to go over every minute detail of every interaction...

In the morning I dressed Lucy in a rather cute outfit and was pleased with her more than normal cute factor.  I fed her, and we had a very big (for me) milestone in that I handed her a "cookie"  (a puffed rice wedge) and she played with it and when I wasn't looking she took a bite!  Yeah, she will someday be able to transition off the bottle.  (Then, like Mommy, she will transition on again, but I have solid food with my wine.)

Feeling good about that, I fed Lucy her regular breakfast and left her in the high chair to clean up.  While I was washing her little bowl I noticed the tale tell (DJ - is that correct?) signs of baby bowel movement.  Yeah!  Poop for Mommy!  Actually, I don't mind and actually prefer for it to happen before we go to school so I know I'm sending her in a clean get up.  The "situations" I hate are the movements that occur in the car on the way to school.  You would think that you could just hand the baby over and smile as you say "she just pooped."  I have done a few diaper changes the moment I get into the nursery - it's only fair.

Anyway, in the super short time it took to gather up the newly fed baby and wisk her upstairs, the situation became more than a diaper change, but a head to toe re-dress and the once cute clothing needed to go straight into the washing machine.  I had meetings to get to otherwise miss poops a lot would have gotten a rare morning bath too.  I could have taken pictures, but I love you too much for that.  Let's just say it was icky.

Once our newly clean girl was safely at school I went home to do some work.  Since I have a home office shoes are not required, but if it's chilly socks are a must.  I headed downstairs to make myself some lunch and lost my footing on the stairs.  I blame the socks, because I wasn't running, I hadn't been drinking and wasn't doing anything other than a normal walking action.

I bounced pretty hard on my butt and slid down at least 3 or 4 risers on my left elbow while grabbing on to the hand rail with my right hand.  My left forearm took most of the action and as you can see I earned a very lovely rug burn.  Thankfully, I broke nothing, wasn't carrying the baby or a cup of coffee, and the hand rail is still firmly attached to the house.

Today my neck and my right arm feel like I helped friends move and my left forearm is quite sensitive.  I've taken some Tylenol and am doing stretches to keep the muscles from tightening up, but I feel sorry for me.  It was a dumb move.

the boo boo

My day did get better. Lucy and Jason were in great spirits, we had family over for a fantastic baked chicken. Lucy stayed up until almost 7pm and for the first time actually seemed to play with Jordan. (I can't wait for those two to become besties.) I slept very well last night - until 4am, when Lucy announced she needed food. I was very impressed that she made it from 7pm to 4am without a feeding.  Impressed until Jason informed me  that I slept through a bottle at midnight. So, instead of having less food, she actually got more. It's almost as if she heard us talking about strategies to stop the middle of the night feedings.

Our dinner plans for tonight fell through, so Jason and I are stuck with pounds and pounds of fresh spaghetti sauce.  Thankfully it freezes and thaws well, but too bad we didn't know we weren't having guests until after he devoted a night to making his yummy sauce. Oh well - we'll be Solo Italia at our casa tonight.  I just hope that I can talk him into drinking the good wine anyway - even without guests.

That's about all there is in the sharing department.  Plus, I need to head downstairs for something.  Wish me luck.

We may need more coverage than that...

BTW... it's a joke