The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

The Child Who Never Throws Up (i.e. not Ben) has thrown up exactly four times in the last three years. And half of those occured last night. The first time was in his bed around 1am. OK, so we (i.e. G) strip the bed and bring him into our bed and hope he's done.

A few hours later he starts making a gagging sound. G sits up and stares at him. I say, "You might want to get him to the bathroom." (G is closer to the door and stronger. He's in charge of rushing 4-year-olds to the bathroom in the middle of the night), where he barfs again.

So far, it seems we have a reprieve from the barfing. But he's still sick. He's prone on the sofa right now, and I know he's sick because he just said to me, "Mama, that's enough TV."

I stared at him. "Seriously? You want me to turn it off?"

"Yeah."

Now that's sick. The boy's first words were "TV." He lives for the TV. When he was about 2, he asked to watch the news when he realized no cartoons were on. And he's asking to turn Sesame Street off?

Did I mention we're flying to Portland tomorrow?

I had a whole list of errands I needed to run this morning after I dropped A. off at school. A's not going to school, obviously, and as soon as G. gets home, I need to jet to work and see clients all in a row until 8pm when I'll come home, fall into bed and get up a few hours later so we can be at the airport at 6am.

On Tuesday, we're traveling to Portland. Just checked to see the what the weather forecast looks like.

Here's Ben and I at Baby Loves Disco:



You can see the whole gallery here.


Not the greatest pic of me, but Ben was having a great time with the hula hoop, and he just gets so filled with glee. It's the funnest thing. The photographer took a bunch of him, and showed me one really cute one where I'm kissing him, and it's not up at his website. I'd e-mail him, but I don't want to be annoying. And this is what you get on Day 17 of NaBloPoMo.

Baby Loves Disco

Today we went dancing at a hot nightclub. With the kids. It's called Baby Loves Disco and it was so much fun. I forgot to take the SD card out of my computer and put it back in my camera (grrrr), so I only got a few photos, but I'll upload them as soon as I find the USB cable. It was fun to be back in a club and reminded me of going dancing every weekend in college. My friends weren't big drinkers, but they were big dancers, and we went to The City as often as we could.

Ben loved the bubble machines, the chocolate kisses and the hula hoops. Not sure what A. liked, since he was feeling a little peaked from the decongestant I'd given him. But when we were driving home, he asked what day we leave for Portland. We told him Tuesday, and he said, "But I wanted to go disco dancing on Tuesday!"

They have a big snack table full of snacks from Trader Joe's and free juice boxes for the kids. Adults have to buy their drinks, but we can get vodka tonics, unlike the short people who get juice. They have a lounge area to chill on pillows and play with toys (lotsa breastfeeding going on there). Yeah, we may do this again.

Isn't it incredible how much we can be affected by those we only know through the computer screen?

I am heartbroken. Godspeed to the newest star in the sky, and peace to those she leaves behind.

If you haven't read the full story (since about October 30) - you should, but be prepared to grab a Kleenex or two - her husband is a truly gifted writer and has managed to attract a huge group of new friends.

More Math News: Correlation Does Not Prove Causation

Ben was resisting going down for his nap, and A. was going potty in the bathroom nearby. I escaped to eat my sandwich, having faith that Ben would fall asleep eventually and A. would wash his hands. A. did come out with wet sleeves, which reassured me.

A: Mama, Ben finally fell asleep.

Me: Oh, that's good.

A: And I burped in the bathroom.

Me: OK.

A: Yeah. I burped in the bathroom.

Me: Um, yeah?

A: And my burp just popped Ben to sleep!

So now, when Ben wakes up at 5am, we just need to get A. up, force soda down his throat, make him burp and all will be well.

Bits and Pieces

For those not addicted to "Lost," ABC decided to ratchet the story up to a cliffhanger, and then take the stupid show off the air for 13 straight weeks. They've got a new show (which, as far as I can tell, is "Groundhog Day" with blood) they'll show in its place for the 13 weeks.

I refuse to watch it, no matter how luscious Taye Diggs is. I am not a toy to be played with, ABC! I'm offended by the idea that because I'm a faithful "Lost" viewer, you can treat me like a trained rat who will turn on the TV at 9pm every Wednesday and watch whatever's there. I turned off the TV Wednesday night, on principle. Take that, ABC!

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A: Mama, what's the last number?

Me: There is no last number.

A: My teacher says that zero is the last number.

Me: Well, OK, on the small end. But what about the other end? Where the numbers get bigger and bigger?

A: 100?

Me: Nope. Because then there's 101, 102, 103....

A: Well, my teacher says that zero is the last number.

Me: Maybe on one end, but on the other end there is no last number. They keep going forever and ever. (thinking: What the hell am I doing? Trying to explain infinity to a 4-year-old?)

A: No. Zero is the last number.

Me: Ask your teacher tomorrow. I'll bet she says there is no last number.

skip to the next day

A: Mama, I asked my teacher and she said zero is the last number.

I hate going to the dentist. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I don't have a phobia, exactly. It's not like I have an anxiety attack. I just find it terribly unpleasant to have my mouth pulled open wide and many sharp metal things stuck into sensitive tissue. I call that a normal reaction to an abnormal situation.

So G's been bugging me to go to his new dentist to get my teeth cleaned. I hate getting my teeth cleaned, so I avoid it. I do realize that if I didn't avoid it so much, I'd probably have fewer of the longer, more painful visits. I just seem to forget about it. But A's going for the first time tomorrow and I figure I have to set a good example.

Anyway, I go to our new dentist. He's just around the corner, so he couldn't be more convenient. I wished I had a camera phone while I was there because you wouldn't believe this office. I could tell you it hadn't been updated since the 70's, but you wouldn't really get it unless I could show you a picture of the completely wood-paneled X-ray room.

They always ask, "When was the last time you got your teeth cleaned?" and I always answer, "I have no idea." They give me a little of the evil eye, and we go from there. I finally realized I get a bit more sympathy if I tell them, "I'm a little afraid of going to the dentist."

So I go to this new one, and he tells me, "I know you're the nervous type, so we'll walk you through everything." I considered explaining that I wasn't the nervous type, but it was going to sound defensive, and he would just nod knowingly and say, "Oh, suuuure." so I figured if it made him gentler to think I was the nervous type, so much the better. I asked if I could listen to my iPod while he worked, and he said, "Of course."

Quick segue: I love my iPod more than I thought I would. I love listening to it. I love that I can download all these cool podcasts for free. I have djsteveboy's podcasts for runners (the slower versions) and I stick Ben in the jogging stroller and take off. I love it.

OK, so I queued up an episode of This American Life and settled in for a pleasant hour. I had been looking forward to listening to the Halloween edition, you know, being that I love Halloween and all. I put in my earbuds, leaned back and gazed up at him and the assistant/receptionist/billing clerk (who gives out candy corn after appointments, which I found a little odd). "OK, now, ooooppeeeen," he suggested. Oh yeah.

I had made a bad choice of material. I knew this episode had spooky stories, so I was thinking ghost stories or alien phenomena or something. No, it was true scary stuff. The first story was a first-person account of a woman who was attacked in her driveway by a rabid raccoon. The raccoon dug its teeth into her and wouldn't let go. She lived in a rural area, so the only way she could summon help was by managing to get her cell phone out of her pocket, press a speed dial and scream into it. Then there was all the trouble getting the rabies shots in time.

The second story was the story of a guy who was kidnapped while hitchiking as a teen with his brother. The silent driver of the car drove them to a cemetery, where they escaped.

Oh yeah, great stories to listen to while your teeth are getting drilled. Especially if you're "the nervous type."

Then came the segment where David Sedaris reads about his experience shadowing the medical examiner's office. Not just gross, but funny too. I kept trying not to laugh, but it was impossible and the dentist had to keep withdrawing his hands until I calmed down.

"I'b sorry, dis iz fuddy," I pointed to my iPod, because half of my face was numb.

It was timed almost perfectly, though, and the dentist finished up just about the same time as podcast. I think next time I'll stick to meditation or music or something.

Clarification

Apparently I didn't make something clear in my previous post - my post wasn't about the website or the designer. It was about my over-the-top reaction (those were, in fact, my exact words) to thinking I'd been shut out...hence the little trip down memory lane. I tried to be very clear that I thought the designer was talented and that I loved her stuff and I also tried very hard to avoid saying that she should operate her site differently, because who the hell am I to judge that? I also didn't name or link her, because it wasn't about her.

One of the things that was difficult was that I couldn't post my question ("hey, is something up with Mo? I've been shut out and I don't know why") on any of the scrapping message boards I frequent because, as I've said before, I'm only a little bit of an idiot, and I knew it would turn into a Mo-bashing thread* and I really didn't want to be responsible for that. I couldn't figure out how to ask because I couldn't get into the forums on the website to e-mail anyone. And any hints I could find indicated that she (or cousin Jo) didn't respond when they didn't want you in; and otherwise, they were very good at responding. So when there was no response, I assumed the worst.

So, as I tried to make clear in the post below, I overreacted. I got all hurt and annoyed and I tried to figure out why.....ta da! Blog Post! (Especially on NaBloWriMo!) See what I mean about overreacting? Apparently it wasn't about me at all, and I shouldn't have taken it personally. One of my favorite parts of the "Four Agreements" is the one that says, "Don't Take Anything Personally," precisely because it's so hard for me. I'm A LOT better at it than I used to be, though, I swear.

As far as I know, this blog has absolutely no following in the digital scrapping community. I'm really surprised that she found me, but I knew there was that chance because I probably put my website on my application or in an e-mail.

It's her website - she can do what she wants, of course. I guess people have hacked into her website and screwed it up royally before, and that's one reason she's so protective.

And, it's my blog, and I can write what I want to write about - my hang-ups and neuroses are prime fodder. I am sorry if she felt hurt that I wrote about her triggering them. Obviously, she's been ill, that's why I didn't hear anything, and now that I know that, I won't bother her anymore. Mo, thanks for replying, I do hope you feel better soon.

*Lots of precedence for this - apparently lots of people have very heated feelings about the way she runs her site. I didn't understand it until now.

And I Am Telling You, I'm Not Going

There are a lot of digital scrapbook designers. Most sell their stuff on a personal website or an on-line store, and most do some marketing to bring people their website.

There's one, who shall remain nameless and linkless, who doesn't market. In fact, you have to apply for membership even to see her stuff. If you do get in, you have to comment or somehow participate (or buy) every time you visit in order to keep being admitted.

Her stuff is really well done and very unique. So I bought some kits, shared a few layouts, contributed to a few threads on the message board, and praised some layouts. In fact, I tried to only visit the site when I knew I'd have time to comment. People in general were very nice. I really liked her kits, but they were on the pricey side (for a ton of stuff, though, and well done - not overpriced), so I was looking forward to buying some more Christmas stuff when I had a little extra cash.

It now appears I've been thrown out. I can't log in and no one is responding to my e-mails. I think the owner (or her cousin) only respond if they're going to let you back in. If you're out, you're just thrown out into the ether. And it's bugging me no end.

For one thing, I uploaded layouts of my kids on the website. I know, I made that choice, but now I don't even know if they're still there. It annoys me that I can't get to them. In my last e-mail, I asked that if I wasn't allowed back in, that they at least take the layouts down. But I'll never know if they even received my request, BECAUSE NO ONE RESPONDS!!

I think that's what bugs me the most. No response. Nada. That makes me crazy. I admit my reaction is a little over-the-top. I mean, her stuff is good but there are other good designers and I certainly can find other kits I like. It's not like I went there every day, and I was just beginning to know some of the regulars, so I wasn't a fixture or a vital part of the community or anything.

Being shut out, however, of course makes me desperate to get back in. It feels like I'm back in the 4th grade and new student Lori came in and out of the blue told my two best friends, Debbie and Lynn, not to play with me anymore and to play with her instead. They listened to her for a while and then their backbones returned, but that was the longest month of my life. In fact, it seems in my memory to have gone on a lot longer than a month. It may have only been a week, for all I know.

It also reminds me of college, when I went to Hawaii with a friend. Being all co-dependent and stuff back then, I paid for her ticket with the understanding that she would pay me back when we returned. You know where this is going. A few years later, still making promises of repayment, she'd dropped out of our circle of friends, and I was newly laid-off. So I wrote to her at her parents' house and asked her to contact me regarding the money she owed me.

Nothing.

I wrote again. I even said, "Hey, if you can't pay me back right now, just TELL ME." Nothing.

I was incensed. Not so much that she wasn't paying me back, because I knew she probably didn't have an extra $750 laying around to give me. It was being ignored, like I wasn't even worth acknowledging, that drove me crazy. I wrote her a couple more letters, each one a bit more serious, and finally sued her in small claims court. I remember the feeling behind it - it wasn't "You owe me money, babe," it was, "I will NOT be ignored, damnit." (Her mother ended up writing me a check the day before the court date, which made me feel a little bad, but not too much).

So now it appears I've been shut out of this exclusive little club, and I'm mad. They have every right to make their decisions, of course, but am I not worth even an acknowledgment? Not even a, "Sorry, but you didn't come often enough. We've taken down your layouts."

It pushes my buttons. And I know I have to let it go, because really, what's the point? It's a website, for goodness sake. There are bigger, far more important things in my life. So why does it bug me so much?

Grrrrr

See? I forgot yesterday. I didn't mean to, I wrote my last post so late that yesterday it felt like I'd just posted. And then today, I thought, "Well, geez, I missed yesterday, I had to miss a day when we were on our trip, I might as well give this up."

It's a slippery slope. But here's today's post. Not much to say. The boys continue to be cute, I continue to worry about how to raise boys to be peaceful and kind without emasculating them; I continue to want them to stay little at the same time that I look forward to the day they're able to come out at 5 am, turn on the TV, pour themselves a bowl of cereal and leave us to sleep. I love Ben's current age (20 months), but I also can't wait until he can clearly tell us what the hell he wants.

I read today (sorry, can't remember where) about someone who was trying to figure out the word for feeling sadness and happiness at the same time. "Melancholy" is too sad, but "bittersweet" isn't exactly right, either. It's exactly what I feel as I see the boys getting older.

OK. I won't give up. I'll keep trying to post daily. I have forgotten, though, why this was a good idea, when I feel like I have no insights at all.

A. has been heavily into the existential issues lately. He's got lots of questions. Everytime he's been quiet for a while and then says, "Mama.....?" I know something hard to answer is coming.

"Mama.....why do we not eat worms?"

"Mama.....why are there killers in this world?"

"Mama....what's bigger than us?"

"Mama....why are seat belts sometimes not enough?"

We had a long discussion about monsters, too. It all started when I made an offhand comment that monsters weren't real.

"But Elmo is a monster and he's real."

"Well.....actually, hon, he's a puppet."

"No, he's not."

Not wanting to hammer him over the head at four with reality, but also not wanting to lie, I said, "Mmmm," and tried to drop it.

After a moment of thought, he repeated, "Elmo's not a puppet, Mama, because Elmo does his own voice," he stated with absolute certainty.

"Well....actually, hon, there is a puppeteer who does Elmo's voice. You just don't see him on TV."

"Elmo is real."

"OK, babe. But we only see monsters on TV, right? We don't see them walking down the street, do we? We don't run into them at the grocery store, right?" (hoping he doesn't remember the time Cookie Monster gave us cookies at Albertson's...)

He finally let it go, which was good because I didn't see that conversation going anywhere satisfying for either of us.

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This one worried me, though:

"Mama, why are seatbelts sometimes not enough?"

I had no idea what he was talking about - had he seen something on TV about a bad crash were seatbelts didn't save people? I didn't think so, and to say something's "sometimes not enough" sounded like he was quoting someone.

"Did you hear someone say that?"

"Yeah. W. said that." Ahh - W is A's 5-year-old friend who considers himself A's mentor.

"Oh. Well, seatbelts are usually enough to keep you safe."

"Actually, he said seatbelts weren't good."

"Well, then, W is wrong. Seatbelts are good because they keep you safe."

"No, he's not wrong. He's right."

Oh, terrific. He's four years old and already succumbing to peer pressure. Peachy. Next thing you know he'll be accepting smokes when they're hiding in the bushes.

"Why do you think he's right?"

"Because seatbelts aren't very fun."

"That's true - they're more serious than fun. But they're still good because they keep you safe."

At least he asks. I fear the time is coming, sooner than I had hoped, where he tunes me out and hears, "Blah blah blah blah blah..." How do you keep them listening?

I can't remember where I got this link, but the idea is you look at a series of photos side by side, and you click on the one you like better. Eventually the brain at the bottom pulses pink, and you click on it and it tells you something about yourself that no website could ever know.

I was surprised that the first thing it told me was: "You'd prefer having a girlfriend." Well, that would rather complicate my life, wouldn't it? It does give you an option to correct the brain, so I clicked, "No, I'd prefer having a boyfriend," because "I'd prefer having a housekeeper," wasn't given as an option.

It also told me: "You don't work in an office/school." I'm not sure what I'd call my therapy office if I didn't call it an office, so I clicked, "No, I work in an office/school."

The brain didn't think anything else about me, but invited me to continue choosing photos. It's kind of an interesting to see the photos they ask you to choose between, even if the pink brain is 0 for 2 so far.

It's Come to This

I'm stealing ideas from other bloggers. Not that I didn't before, though.

Evidence that our children are not our children:

1. They're too attractive. Both A. and Ben are remarkably attractive, and I don't think I'm just saying that. I could bring in witnesses who are not related to them. I hope G. won't mind me saying this, but they're both really more attractive than either he or I.

2. They are early birds. Both kids regularly get up before 6am. When we stayed in Stinson Beach, A. slept in until 7, and when he woke, yelled out, panicking: "Papa! Papa! There's light coming through my window!"

G: "Yes, that would be the sun."

A: "But Papa, there's a lot of light! It's all over my room!"

I told him later, "That's the way it's supposed to be when you wake up. If you wake up and it's still dark, you're supposed to roll over and go back to sleep."

He gave me a look that clearly said, "Well, maybe that works for some people, but I have no interest in such things."

G. can get up early, but left to his own devices, usually sleeps in until at least 8am. If I could make my own schedule, I would go to bed between midnight and 1am and get up at 9am. That would be absolutely perfect, and is one of the reasons I kept a job where I didn't start until 10:30am for so many years.

3. They're extroverts.

Both G. and I were painfully shy as children, G. probably more than me. He can't believe A. raises his hand at soccer practice of his own accord, and seems so brazen and confident. Both boys are very social and make friends easily. It amazes us.

Both boys are not-quite-coordinated in a way that seems very familiar. And Aidan has my red hair. But I did have ceseareans and both kids were whisked away to the NICU right after birth, so it's possible that somewhere, some couple is dealing with shy, average-looking late sleepers and trying to figure out where they came from.

Cars the Merchandising Wonder

So yesterday was election day, or, as it was known around our house, The Day Cars The Movie Came Out on DVD.

Ben won a Best Buy gift card (see? My 20-month-old wins raffles easier than I do) last month so the boys went to buy it today while I was at work. I came home to find A. asleep in bed, his arms wrapped around the DVD case and the insert stuck in his little fingers. I'm guessing they already watched it.

Before I had kids, I thought movie tie-in merchandising was the crassest form of consumerism. Now that I'm a parent, I think, "Cool. Christmas is covered. Just buy the kid a 'Cars the Movie' plate and cup and he'll be happy."

Or, while out shopping, "Hey, there's a 'Cars the Movie' display. I can park the cart in front of it and probably have a whole five minutes to browse the magazines. Awesome."

Now, the kid in question is only four, so we haven't been through much more than Thomas and Cars the Movie. I'm sure that when he's on his fourth or fifth group of licensed characters it will be far less appealing.

Reasons October 27 is a Great Day to Have a Birthday

I know you're sick of hearing about my birthday, but this blogging daily thing means every little blog idea that comes into my little head gets its due.

1. Here in Northern California, the weather is still really nice. Not too hot, not too cold. Usually sunny.

2. It's close to Halloween, which is a Fun Holiday (as opposed to the religious and/or patriotic ones - the other one, according to me, is New Year's).

3. Whatever I didn't get for my birthday goes right onto the Christmas list.

4. It's in the autumn, which everyone knows is the best season.

God, we're only on Day 7. I'd better see if this book is in the library. It's doubtful, since we're lucky if our library has gotten in the tax forms for 2004 yet.

BTW, I had an Odwalla juice and a Luna Bar for lunch. Tomorrow....gosh, who knows?

In Search of a Happy Ending

A fellow blogger is blogging through the most difficult time: His 29-year-old wife got sick on Halloween with what they thought was the flu and is now critically ill with a mysterious infection. His writing about the roller coaster they've been on for the past few days is compelling and although I hadn't read his blog until today (thanks for the link, Busy Mom)....I'm praying for a happy ending. Please, please, please be OK, GAC. They've got two little boys, like us. C'mon, God, let her see her boys grow up.

I'm listening to "100 Years" as I read it, and I'm also praying a little bit that I have at least 99 years until I have to face anthing like that.

Here I Am!

I'm back!

Before I write about the trip, I just found out that my dad has had the hiccups for 10 DAYS. Can you imagine anything sucking more? He finally went to the ER because it's just not normal to hiccup for 10 days, and they found he has pneumonia, which apparently can cause hiccups. Who knew?

So after scaring Sarah about the hooligans and house prices in Northern California, we remembered some awesome things about the area here. Here's where we stayed:














And we had really good, really pretty crab cakes here. And I didn't wear any makeup, BTW.




















It was a gorgeous morning at the beach today.








And we had a great time here. The fence isn't the most photogenic, but trust me, it's a really great place in the shadow of the Golden Gate.
















We took a wrong turn coming back and ended up on the top of Mt. Tamalpais. Not a bad detour.

Day Three

I don't know what's up, but Blogger's not letting me save drafts, which means I can't write anything and make it post on Saturday.

So I'll write a post for tomorrow but won't be able to post it until Sunday, which probably takes me out of the running for all the prizes offered by NaBloWriMo, but that's OK, I wouldn't have won anyway. I'm not being pessimistic, I just know my record - the only thing I've ever won in a raffle has been a salame.

Even at some golf tournament dinner I went to with a date once, where I was incensed because the women winners had to pick a plant and the guys got to pick liquor (I would've probably picked a plant anyway if I'd had a choice, but it was the chauvinism of the thing that bugged me)....everyone won something except for one other lady and me. They thought they had gotten enough for everyone by having 100 raffle gifts. Just goes to show you - I don't win even when the odds are heavily in my favor.

Pretend We're on Eastern Time

So this post counts as my November 3rd post.

Check this out: Don't Eat It, Steve! Blegh. Wish I'd found this before Halloween. I love StumbleUpon.

Edited to add: You might as well check out all the disgusting stuff he's tried: All the Disgusting Stuff He's Tried