Happy Friday! It's Halloween weekend, which means that all of us parents are bound be be half-insane by Sunday night. Between the costume paraphernalia, the parties, and the trick-or-treating, we've got our hands full. And don't forget the candy, staying up late, and that oft-underestimated parental nightmare: The Hype. Good luck with all of it. May your child's stockings not tear as you pull them on, already late for that party.
Also this weekend is Daylight Saving Time. I've already done a practice run-through, so I think I am ready. Still, I'm not making any plans for Sunday, just in case.
You remember how I confessed to dropping Nathan off at the YMCA's Child Watch area so that I could sit around in the lobby with my laptop? Well, not only did Nathan have a great time playing with the other little kids there, but I got a bonus Christmas present idea when I came to retrieve him and saw him playing with a little tool bench toy. The wonderful babysitters told me that he had been playing with it happily for over 30 minutes, which gave me the mom-equivalent of a cash register cha-ching in my head. Hmmm...if I bought him one of these, would he play with it at home for long stretches like that? Well, you know I intend to find out! I'm also thinking of getting him one of those Tag Junior reading thingies so that he can sit with a book and wave the little sensor-mabob over the words and pictures and be entertained.
I remember when they first came out with toys that would read to children (Teddy Ruxpin, shudder), and I judged. "Nice," I snarked, "Whatever you do, lazy-ass, don't read to your own kid. Buy a creepy robot-bear to do it for you." Um, yeah. That was before I had three kids, one of whom craves adult attention every second of the day. I've spent so many hours working with Nathan to engage him and get him talking socially that now I am ready to hand over the reigns to any creepy robot toy, wand, or laser-thingamajig if it will give me ten minutes to take a shower or (gasp!) read a magazine.
I am still loving my $6 sweatpants, and in fact find myself fantasizing about them throughout the day as my jeans get pinchy and the chilly autumn wind whistles right through the Target denim. My sweatpant manifesto proclaimed that I would be putting them on before my husband came home if he was working late, but now I find myself grabbing them out of the closet as soon as I've picked the kids up from school...at 3:00. On the days when we don't have playdates, errands, or swim lessons to shlep to, and we are settled in right after school, I'm putting those suckers right on. Sorry, babe.
Showing posts with label Friday Follow-Up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friday Follow-Up. Show all posts
Friday, October 30, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Friday Follow-Up
It's Friday, y'all! I told you it'd come fast this week, and it sure did. So, here are some updates on past stories:
First, I want to thank you all again for the amazing support you gave me while I was going through my miscarriage. Last week was ROUGH, but this week has been all about keeping busy and moving on. I'm feeling good, although I do seem to have developed a bit of an angry edge. (On the inside, so don't worry that I'm going to cut you or anything.) I thought I recalled hearing something about anger being one of the 7 stages of grief, so I Wikipedia'd them, figuring anger must be the last one before the Being Over It stage. Turns out it's actually only step 3 in the process. Ouch.
But wait! I seem to be in hyperdrive, because I am simultaneously experiencing:
Anger: I'm swearing in my head a lot more than usual, especially when I see baby stuff. Fuck off, Pooh booties.
Reflection: Been thinking about the crazy ride we were on when we discovered that we were surprisingly expecting and then surprisingly not expecting anymore. Wondering whether we'll decide to try again or keep things as they are.
The Upward Turn: Experiencing a welcome lift in mood and productivity - for example, I cleaned for the whole morning while Nathan was at playgroup on Tuesday...typically something I'd do only to avoid embarrassment if company's coming over, or to avoid playing another game of Go Fish with Nathan.
Reconstruction and Working Through: I finally decided what I wanted and bought furniture for the living room, family room, and kitchen on Monday, and am currently investigating window treatments. Thinking about personal and "professional" (i.e. blog) goals. Noticing that my body feels back to normal. (Bye, bye, bigger boobs.)
Acceptance and Hope: I accept that this kind of thing happens. A lot. And I hope that it won't ever happen to me again. For closure, I morbidly peed on a stick yesterday, and I saw only the one lonely pink line, when last week there'd been two. I'm a visual kind of person, so this creepy maneuver helped me turn the page.
So there you have it: proof that women can multi-task anything, even grief.
In other news, Romeo accidentally injured Annabelle in school yesterday and he felt terrible. He seems like a pretty nice kid, actually. For a player. He kept apologizing (although it was an accident), and he told her that she looked pretty, despite the bloody lip.
And the Academy called this morning. Madeleine has been nominated Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal of Mom's Embarrassing Interview Fart in The Emotions Game. She says she's honored just to be nominated, but you know she wants to bring home that statue.
First, I want to thank you all again for the amazing support you gave me while I was going through my miscarriage. Last week was ROUGH, but this week has been all about keeping busy and moving on. I'm feeling good, although I do seem to have developed a bit of an angry edge. (On the inside, so don't worry that I'm going to cut you or anything.) I thought I recalled hearing something about anger being one of the 7 stages of grief, so I Wikipedia'd them, figuring anger must be the last one before the Being Over It stage. Turns out it's actually only step 3 in the process. Ouch.
But wait! I seem to be in hyperdrive, because I am simultaneously experiencing:
Anger: I'm swearing in my head a lot more than usual, especially when I see baby stuff. Fuck off, Pooh booties.
Reflection: Been thinking about the crazy ride we were on when we discovered that we were surprisingly expecting and then surprisingly not expecting anymore. Wondering whether we'll decide to try again or keep things as they are.
The Upward Turn: Experiencing a welcome lift in mood and productivity - for example, I cleaned for the whole morning while Nathan was at playgroup on Tuesday...typically something I'd do only to avoid embarrassment if company's coming over, or to avoid playing another game of Go Fish with Nathan.
Reconstruction and Working Through: I finally decided what I wanted and bought furniture for the living room, family room, and kitchen on Monday, and am currently investigating window treatments. Thinking about personal and "professional" (i.e. blog) goals. Noticing that my body feels back to normal. (Bye, bye, bigger boobs.)
Acceptance and Hope: I accept that this kind of thing happens. A lot. And I hope that it won't ever happen to me again. For closure, I morbidly peed on a stick yesterday, and I saw only the one lonely pink line, when last week there'd been two. I'm a visual kind of person, so this creepy maneuver helped me turn the page.
So there you have it: proof that women can multi-task anything, even grief.
In other news, Romeo accidentally injured Annabelle in school yesterday and he felt terrible. He seems like a pretty nice kid, actually. For a player. He kept apologizing (although it was an accident), and he told her that she looked pretty, despite the bloody lip.
And the Academy called this morning. Madeleine has been nominated Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal of Mom's Embarrassing Interview Fart in The Emotions Game. She says she's honored just to be nominated, but you know she wants to bring home that statue.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Friday Follow-Up
Happy long-weekend Friday! I want to thank you all for your support as I've gone through my miscarriage. I am amazed at how many of my friends have been through similar experiences and have now shared their stories with me to help get me through this loss. I was pretty arrogant to have thought that something like this couldn't happen to me.
People knock Facebook and Twitter and blogging because we are not communicating face to face anymore these days. While I agree that sometimes there is no substitute for holding a friend's hand or seeing their expression while delivering a joke, I'm all for using the internet as a means of connecting with people. I've always been very shy in person, but still have a need to talk about well, everything. Like this miscarriage for instance. Being able to talk about what happened helped me to deal with the confusing feelings of loss and mourning that seemed too big for something that I'd only known about for a little over a week. And wow, did people come through for me! So many women shared their stories and their caring with me via email, blog comment, Facebook, phone call, handwritten note, flowers, and even tearily in person. Had it not been for my big blog mouth, I never would have had such a wide-ranging outreach from friends old and new.
Another thing I've learned from all of you is that women really come through for each other in times like these. Yes, some of us may give each other once-overs at the playground ("Are those real Uggs or knock-offs?") or gossip about each other at practice ("Are those real boobs or did she get a little help?"), but when it comes down to it, we all relate in a fundamental way, and when one of us experiences a painful woman's issue, we drop everything and cry for her. We offer meals, babysitting, hugs, listening ears, and above all, sympathy. I am amazed at how both women I've known for half my life and women I've known for a few months have all come together to offer their support. It's like we have created our own virtual red tent, and we're in it together though we are technically, physically apart.
Thanks to all of you.
I have had ups and downs since I wrote last. Wednesday was good. I didn't cry, even though I saw a lot of friends in person and feared that I would break down or turn to stone upon seeing them. I listened to a lot of music, thanks to Nathan's reminders to "Bring the iPod!" whenever we were in the van. That helped. Miley Cyrus, of all people, with her cheesetastic "Party in the U.S.A." actually got to me when she said, "And you know I'm gonna be okay." Like because this 16-year-old sings it, it must be true.
Yesterday was not so good. I walked into early intervention playgroup, feeling all cool with Miley's teen pop anthem in my head and my iced coffee in hand. The group leader saw me come in, and nodding her head toward a newborn in a little infant carrier said, "Kelley, does that make you excited?" I froze, mute, head down, hair falling around my face. She thought I hadn't heard her, so she asked again: "Kel, does that make you excited?" I couldn't speak. I raised my head to meet her eyes and just started shaking my head "no." Tears streamed out of my eyes and I even made one alien sob noise as the already-seated parents looked at me, standing there, coming apart in front of them all. The rest of the 2-hour meeting was a blur. The group leader was there, hugging me, and thankfully a rocking chair happened to be vacant in the corner near where I stood, rooted to the ground, so that when I was able to sit I didn't have to make my way through the parents, but could just sink into the seat in the corner and keep my head down. I worked on my Ken Ken puzzle book and made sure that my unruly hair was unruly enough to cover my face so that I couldn't be seen too easily as I silently cried throughout the morning. There are a couple of other pregnant moms in the group, and naturally the topic of pregnancy and childbirth comes up a lot in a parents group. One question, asked by one expectant mom to another, "Is the baby really active in your belly?" kicked me the hardest, but as the morning went on I became desensitized and the eyes dried up. I know that I'll be much better able to handle next week's meeting.
Today has been pretty good so far. Nathan's going to a drop-off program in the morning, which leaves me kid-free for a couple of hours. I'm going to look at furniture again, looking at ways to home-ify my drab, vagrants-live-here house. I'll grab an iced coffee and listen to some Stones and, okay, probably some Miley, too.
P.S. My "Uggs" are knock-offs, but my boobs are real. ("No kidding," you're smirking about my teeny booblets.)
People knock Facebook and Twitter and blogging because we are not communicating face to face anymore these days. While I agree that sometimes there is no substitute for holding a friend's hand or seeing their expression while delivering a joke, I'm all for using the internet as a means of connecting with people. I've always been very shy in person, but still have a need to talk about well, everything. Like this miscarriage for instance. Being able to talk about what happened helped me to deal with the confusing feelings of loss and mourning that seemed too big for something that I'd only known about for a little over a week. And wow, did people come through for me! So many women shared their stories and their caring with me via email, blog comment, Facebook, phone call, handwritten note, flowers, and even tearily in person. Had it not been for my big blog mouth, I never would have had such a wide-ranging outreach from friends old and new.
Another thing I've learned from all of you is that women really come through for each other in times like these. Yes, some of us may give each other once-overs at the playground ("Are those real Uggs or knock-offs?") or gossip about each other at practice ("Are those real boobs or did she get a little help?"), but when it comes down to it, we all relate in a fundamental way, and when one of us experiences a painful woman's issue, we drop everything and cry for her. We offer meals, babysitting, hugs, listening ears, and above all, sympathy. I am amazed at how both women I've known for half my life and women I've known for a few months have all come together to offer their support. It's like we have created our own virtual red tent, and we're in it together though we are technically, physically apart.
Thanks to all of you.
I have had ups and downs since I wrote last. Wednesday was good. I didn't cry, even though I saw a lot of friends in person and feared that I would break down or turn to stone upon seeing them. I listened to a lot of music, thanks to Nathan's reminders to "Bring the iPod!" whenever we were in the van. That helped. Miley Cyrus, of all people, with her cheesetastic "Party in the U.S.A." actually got to me when she said, "And you know I'm gonna be okay." Like because this 16-year-old sings it, it must be true.
Yesterday was not so good. I walked into early intervention playgroup, feeling all cool with Miley's teen pop anthem in my head and my iced coffee in hand. The group leader saw me come in, and nodding her head toward a newborn in a little infant carrier said, "Kelley, does that make you excited?" I froze, mute, head down, hair falling around my face. She thought I hadn't heard her, so she asked again: "Kel, does that make you excited?" I couldn't speak. I raised my head to meet her eyes and just started shaking my head "no." Tears streamed out of my eyes and I even made one alien sob noise as the already-seated parents looked at me, standing there, coming apart in front of them all. The rest of the 2-hour meeting was a blur. The group leader was there, hugging me, and thankfully a rocking chair happened to be vacant in the corner near where I stood, rooted to the ground, so that when I was able to sit I didn't have to make my way through the parents, but could just sink into the seat in the corner and keep my head down. I worked on my Ken Ken puzzle book and made sure that my unruly hair was unruly enough to cover my face so that I couldn't be seen too easily as I silently cried throughout the morning. There are a couple of other pregnant moms in the group, and naturally the topic of pregnancy and childbirth comes up a lot in a parents group. One question, asked by one expectant mom to another, "Is the baby really active in your belly?" kicked me the hardest, but as the morning went on I became desensitized and the eyes dried up. I know that I'll be much better able to handle next week's meeting.
Today has been pretty good so far. Nathan's going to a drop-off program in the morning, which leaves me kid-free for a couple of hours. I'm going to look at furniture again, looking at ways to home-ify my drab, vagrants-live-here house. I'll grab an iced coffee and listen to some Stones and, okay, probably some Miley, too.
P.S. My "Uggs" are knock-offs, but my boobs are real. ("No kidding," you're smirking about my teeny booblets.)
Friday, October 2, 2009
Friday Follow-Up
Wow. I have officially known about being pregnant for a week now, and it is starting to sink in. (Sort of.) Most people that I see around in daily life have heard or read the news by now, and everyone has been really excited and supportive. I must confess that I wasn't sure this would be the case. Having four babies seemed, well, excessive, and I was a little worried that people would start making Duggar references or ask me if I was angling for my own reality show.
As you may have guessed, this was not something that Jason and I set out to do. A few years after having the girls, who were born 13 months apart, we considered having another set of two babies close together. Then Nathan was born, and I said, "Whoa ... three is good." I told everyone within earshot that I was D-O-N-E, and yelped things like, "Bite your tongue!" and "Don't even joke about that!" when someone suggested that I might get pregnant again.
A month ago, when I found out that two moms in my early intervention parent group were expecting, I was very smugly unpregnant. (Or so I thought.) "Suckers," I thought to myself while outwardly well-wishing. "I wouldn't want to be starting all over again!"
Two weeks ago, I finished cleaning out my closet and drawers, and threw my maternity clothes and nursing bras into a donation bag with gusto. "I won't be needing THESE anymore!"
And then last week, I peed on three sticks and learned that I was on my way to being the mother of four children. My very first reaction was shock, but with an aftertaste of warm maternal happiness. Even though it was not something I thought I wanted, I am thrilled to be creating this big family. Growing up, I had no siblings at home to play/conspire/fight with, and I always envied my friends who had multiple brothers and sisters. Although I didn't think I'd ever be married and having children, I knew that if I did, I'd want to have the big, bustling "cool" house with lots of kids and their friends congregating in the kitchen after school, eating all of the food and gossiping about which teachers give the lamest homework. So, it turns out that now I have a shot at that. I'm creating the family I always wanted as a kid.
Of course, in my dreams, I was never the one who had to clean the toilets...
As you may have guessed, this was not something that Jason and I set out to do. A few years after having the girls, who were born 13 months apart, we considered having another set of two babies close together. Then Nathan was born, and I said, "Whoa ... three is good." I told everyone within earshot that I was D-O-N-E, and yelped things like, "Bite your tongue!" and "Don't even joke about that!" when someone suggested that I might get pregnant again.
A month ago, when I found out that two moms in my early intervention parent group were expecting, I was very smugly unpregnant. (Or so I thought.) "Suckers," I thought to myself while outwardly well-wishing. "I wouldn't want to be starting all over again!"
Two weeks ago, I finished cleaning out my closet and drawers, and threw my maternity clothes and nursing bras into a donation bag with gusto. "I won't be needing THESE anymore!"
And then last week, I peed on three sticks and learned that I was on my way to being the mother of four children. My very first reaction was shock, but with an aftertaste of warm maternal happiness. Even though it was not something I thought I wanted, I am thrilled to be creating this big family. Growing up, I had no siblings at home to play/conspire/fight with, and I always envied my friends who had multiple brothers and sisters. Although I didn't think I'd ever be married and having children, I knew that if I did, I'd want to have the big, bustling "cool" house with lots of kids and their friends congregating in the kitchen after school, eating all of the food and gossiping about which teachers give the lamest homework. So, it turns out that now I have a shot at that. I'm creating the family I always wanted as a kid.
Of course, in my dreams, I was never the one who had to clean the toilets...
Friday, September 25, 2009
Friday Follow-Up
Hey, kids, gather 'round! It's Friday Follow-Up time!
As you can see, I'm in a weird mood. It's been a weird week. I got some unexpected feedback after writing about my inability to accept that life isn't fair. I thought I came off as a nutjob, obsessing about free pancakes and peewee football players, but I actually received quite a bit of support from all of you. Enablers!
I'm still waiting for my cookbooks to arrive. I ordered them all from different vendors through Amazon, so each book will arrive in a separate box, on a separate day. I'm so excited - next week will be like Hanukkah! (I've always envied Hanukkah...) I love having a project that doesn't involve any actual work. First, I'll put the books in order on the coffee table in the family room. Then, I'll grab my little Staples organizer that's filled with different colored flags and Post-Its. And with feet up on the couch and garbage TV on (Hi, Melrose Place 2.0!), I will pore through each book, marking every recipe that looks bland and uncomplicated enough with flags, following an as-yet-to-be-determined recipe organizing system. Then, I'll add the keepers to my Better Homes and Gardens Recipe Organizer Binder. I suppose at some point I should add another phase to my project: Cooking The Meals. But that's a ways off - I can't just start cooking recipes randomly! Must organize first. And lord knows how long that will take...
Oh, and speaking of my cookbook post, I got a comment that used an abbreviation: FTW. I had NO IDEA what that meant, and couldn't get it from the context of the comment, the way I might translate an unfamiliar word while reading a novel. Embarrassingly, I had to Google it. Turns out that it was a complimentary bunch of letters, meaning "for the win." What you're supposed to do is write something that's good or that you liked and then add FTW to the end. So Noodle Mom could message me something like, "You made boxed spaghetti for dinner tonight? Huh. I made spinach ravioli with homemade marinara. And hand-churned ice cream with berries FTW."
And finally, I want to let you know that Mad is still out of school, thanks to that party guest who won't take the hint that it's time to go home, Mystery Fever. We're heading to the pediatrician's office in about 10 minutes to see WTF is causing her to have a fever for three days. (See? I do know some acronyms all on my own!) She seems to be doing better today, which is great, but man, is it weird having a kid around the house during a time when you're not supposed to have a kid around the house. Even Nathan has these little programs that he goes to during the day, so I had been used to not having to answer to anyone for at least an hour on most days.
Talk to you Monday!
Kelley
P.S. I craffed yesterday. For like an hour. I'm not telling you why, but thought you'd like to know that yes, I really do Craff Out Loud.
As you can see, I'm in a weird mood. It's been a weird week. I got some unexpected feedback after writing about my inability to accept that life isn't fair. I thought I came off as a nutjob, obsessing about free pancakes and peewee football players, but I actually received quite a bit of support from all of you. Enablers!
I'm still waiting for my cookbooks to arrive. I ordered them all from different vendors through Amazon, so each book will arrive in a separate box, on a separate day. I'm so excited - next week will be like Hanukkah! (I've always envied Hanukkah...) I love having a project that doesn't involve any actual work. First, I'll put the books in order on the coffee table in the family room. Then, I'll grab my little Staples organizer that's filled with different colored flags and Post-Its. And with feet up on the couch and garbage TV on (Hi, Melrose Place 2.0!), I will pore through each book, marking every recipe that looks bland and uncomplicated enough with flags, following an as-yet-to-be-determined recipe organizing system. Then, I'll add the keepers to my Better Homes and Gardens Recipe Organizer Binder. I suppose at some point I should add another phase to my project: Cooking The Meals. But that's a ways off - I can't just start cooking recipes randomly! Must organize first. And lord knows how long that will take...
Oh, and speaking of my cookbook post, I got a comment that used an abbreviation: FTW. I had NO IDEA what that meant, and couldn't get it from the context of the comment, the way I might translate an unfamiliar word while reading a novel. Embarrassingly, I had to Google it. Turns out that it was a complimentary bunch of letters, meaning "for the win." What you're supposed to do is write something that's good or that you liked and then add FTW to the end. So Noodle Mom could message me something like, "You made boxed spaghetti for dinner tonight? Huh. I made spinach ravioli with homemade marinara. And hand-churned ice cream with berries FTW."
And finally, I want to let you know that Mad is still out of school, thanks to that party guest who won't take the hint that it's time to go home, Mystery Fever. We're heading to the pediatrician's office in about 10 minutes to see WTF is causing her to have a fever for three days. (See? I do know some acronyms all on my own!) She seems to be doing better today, which is great, but man, is it weird having a kid around the house during a time when you're not supposed to have a kid around the house. Even Nathan has these little programs that he goes to during the day, so I had been used to not having to answer to anyone for at least an hour on most days.
Talk to you Monday!
Kelley
P.S. I craffed yesterday. For like an hour. I'm not telling you why, but thought you'd like to know that yes, I really do Craff Out Loud.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Friday Follow-Up
Hey! I have some updates to report in a new feature that I'll call Friday Follow-Up (read with jazz hands). It'll be kind of like the annual Christmas letter that you see families sending in movies and TV shows but never in real life. Only weekly. And in real life.
My very first post, Kiss me...Like this...On the mouth! talked about the ritual bedtime smooch that I share with Nathan each night. You may remember that only dramatic, drawn-out kisses on the lips were acceptable to my little boy, and you may also have read in my biography that Nathan has an autism spectrum disorder that makes him pretty, uh, how do I put this? Inflexible. So you can imagine the sheer panic that hit me at bedtime a couple of weeks ago when I felt like I was coming down with something. I didn't want to pass my germs along, but good lord, how could I deny Nathan his big smooch on the mouth? Well, the kid surprised me. After running through the rest of the lengthy bedtime routine as he expected, I nervously mentioned that I'd be giving him a "big kiss...like this" on the cheek that night. Eyes locked, we stared each other down for about 120 seconds before he decided, "No. You can kiss me...like this...on this cheek AND on this cheek." So, we made it through the ordeal just fine, with mom being charged one penalty kiss. Phew!
I got a lot of creative advice from my Facebook friends after writing I'm so glad you shared...now what's your name again? - apparently I am not the only mom who has been in this awkward situation. But you know what? I didn't have to use any of your ideas - I cheated instead. At the start of our very next parent meeting, the moderator of the group addressed the mom-to-be by name. Score! For the rest of the meeting, I cockily tossed that girl her name so many times she probably thought I was trying to initiate a drinking game.
Remember how I mentioned that Nathan substitutes "juice box" for "juke box" when he sings "I Love Rock and Roll" by Joan Jett? Well, now I have to sing it that way whenever I hear it (usually while playing Guitar Hero) - and it makes me sound like a slurry Courtney Love. This, combined with the automatic hiccups that humiliate me every time I drink half a beer, makes me seem much drunker than I (usually) am.
The response that I've gotten from my angst-ridden post about changing schools has been overwhelming. I couldn't believe the outpouring of welcome from Heights parents and the wistful understanding and well-wishing from Alt School parents. At the new school, I've seen so many moms I know from MOMS Club and around town, and I feel totally at ease and like a part of the Heights community. Oh, yeah, and the girls are loving their new school, which I guess is kind of important, too. The agita of being part of an always-on-the-chopping-block school is gone, and the agita of changing schools faded quickly. Now if someone could give me a Tums for the kids-have-to-read-to-me-for-20-minutes-each-night agita...
And one more update. After my post Enough, already, a lot of people rushed to my defense and accused Noodle Mom of being a holier-than-thou show-off. Because she's actually a close friend and an all-around good egg, I defended her. Then, last week, she messaged me about how she was preparing homemade fruit leather and making hand-cranked noodles in the same day. So you know what? You can feel free to let those barbs fly! ;-)
Jonesin' for some Street Hoops,
Kelley
P.S. I'm typing this at Starbucks while the girls are in school and the boy is at a drop-off program at the Y. (Ooooh yeah!) And a mother just came in with her teenage daughter and used the coolest mom line, which I am totally going to steal. The daughter picked up a mug that she wanted and quoted the price. Unflappable Mom said calmly over her shoulder as she approached the barista, "I'm only here for coffee." The mug was replaced and the girl never made a peep of protest. Next time we're at the store and the girls start frothing at the mouth over gum at the checkout, I'll say, "We're only here for beer."
My very first post, Kiss me...Like this...On the mouth! talked about the ritual bedtime smooch that I share with Nathan each night. You may remember that only dramatic, drawn-out kisses on the lips were acceptable to my little boy, and you may also have read in my biography that Nathan has an autism spectrum disorder that makes him pretty, uh, how do I put this? Inflexible. So you can imagine the sheer panic that hit me at bedtime a couple of weeks ago when I felt like I was coming down with something. I didn't want to pass my germs along, but good lord, how could I deny Nathan his big smooch on the mouth? Well, the kid surprised me. After running through the rest of the lengthy bedtime routine as he expected, I nervously mentioned that I'd be giving him a "big kiss...like this" on the cheek that night. Eyes locked, we stared each other down for about 120 seconds before he decided, "No. You can kiss me...like this...on this cheek AND on this cheek." So, we made it through the ordeal just fine, with mom being charged one penalty kiss. Phew!
I got a lot of creative advice from my Facebook friends after writing I'm so glad you shared...now what's your name again? - apparently I am not the only mom who has been in this awkward situation. But you know what? I didn't have to use any of your ideas - I cheated instead. At the start of our very next parent meeting, the moderator of the group addressed the mom-to-be by name. Score! For the rest of the meeting, I cockily tossed that girl her name so many times she probably thought I was trying to initiate a drinking game.
Remember how I mentioned that Nathan substitutes "juice box" for "juke box" when he sings "I Love Rock and Roll" by Joan Jett? Well, now I have to sing it that way whenever I hear it (usually while playing Guitar Hero) - and it makes me sound like a slurry Courtney Love. This, combined with the automatic hiccups that humiliate me every time I drink half a beer, makes me seem much drunker than I (usually) am.
The response that I've gotten from my angst-ridden post about changing schools has been overwhelming. I couldn't believe the outpouring of welcome from Heights parents and the wistful understanding and well-wishing from Alt School parents. At the new school, I've seen so many moms I know from MOMS Club and around town, and I feel totally at ease and like a part of the Heights community. Oh, yeah, and the girls are loving their new school, which I guess is kind of important, too. The agita of being part of an always-on-the-chopping-block school is gone, and the agita of changing schools faded quickly. Now if someone could give me a Tums for the kids-have-to-read-to-me-for-20-minutes-each-night agita...
And one more update. After my post Enough, already, a lot of people rushed to my defense and accused Noodle Mom of being a holier-than-thou show-off. Because she's actually a close friend and an all-around good egg, I defended her. Then, last week, she messaged me about how she was preparing homemade fruit leather and making hand-cranked noodles in the same day. So you know what? You can feel free to let those barbs fly! ;-)
Jonesin' for some Street Hoops,
Kelley
P.S. I'm typing this at Starbucks while the girls are in school and the boy is at a drop-off program at the Y. (Ooooh yeah!) And a mother just came in with her teenage daughter and used the coolest mom line, which I am totally going to steal. The daughter picked up a mug that she wanted and quoted the price. Unflappable Mom said calmly over her shoulder as she approached the barista, "I'm only here for coffee." The mug was replaced and the girl never made a peep of protest. Next time we're at the store and the girls start frothing at the mouth over gum at the checkout, I'll say, "We're only here for beer."
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