Breathtaking building
Brilliant Color
Darth Vader Helmet (above; according to Henry)
Iconic reflections
"The Music Experience" in Seattle.
Amazing.
May 11, 2010
May 10, 2010
Boys in Seattle
We are home from a wonderful Mothers Day Weekend in
Seattle. It was BEAUTIFUL and so are the hundreds
of pictures that we took!
We'll start with some pictures of my handsome boys
playing at the Seattle Center.
Much more to come....
April 27, 2010
We-are-robots.
As Nate worked to jimmy-rig the Kia on my bike,
the boys got into his socket wrenches and
transformed into ROBOTS! (or robot fingers, at least)
April 26, 2010
April 25, 2010
Me-Me-Mow
We THOUGHT this was a song that Charlie learned in
school. Turns out, this is a Charlie ORIGINAL.
That's right, singer/songwriter style.
April 21, 2010
A Two Name Morning
Some mornings just don’t go smoothly. Take today for example. Henry comes running into our bathroom, puffy-eyed and half asleep and in his sweet, sweet morning voice asks me:
“Mommy? Is today a stay-at-home day?”
“No sweetie, today is a school day.”
“BLAHAHAKDHJAKDSHD$%##@#$#@#$#@!!!”
He continued with his “Bear Growling” for a good 30 minutes as Nate patiently tried to dress him and convince him that going potty before we leave for school is in his best interest.
Henry sat at the breakfast table dramatically howling “I’M GRUMPY!”
To which Charlie replied “I’m grumpy too!” with a smile on his face.
The ride into school was no better and I started sweating profusely as we neared school in anticipation of what our good-byes might look like.
They surprised me.
Charlie’s drop off was completely pleasant and he actually was more excited to dig into his oatmeal and blueberries than he was to say goodbye. Note to self*: expect a “blueberry diaper” from Charlie late this afternoon.
*Self = Nate.
Henry tried to play his “My legs are tired. I can’t walk. I don’t want to go to school. My body hurts.” game, but I forged on. Determined. And Positive.
And then we got to the “name signing” station, which is the last step of our drop off routine. Every child signs their name each morning. Henry’s name spot has always just said “HENRY” and so Henry has always just written “HEnry” (just like that). But today, his name space said “HENRY BARTON” and he noticed right away. He told me you can’t just write one name when it shows two names. So you know what he did? He wrote his two names “HENRY BARTON”. I had to help with the B and A, but he took it from there and then stood back, hands on hips and lips in “fish pose” admiring his accomplishment. “Look at all those letters.” he said. Indeed.
A couple kisses, hugs and waves later, I left. but watched as Henry returned to the name signing station to, what I imagine, admire his great start to this morning.
“Mommy? Is today a stay-at-home day?”
“No sweetie, today is a school day.”
“BLAHAHAKDHJAKDSHD$%##@#$#@#$#@!!!”
He continued with his “Bear Growling” for a good 30 minutes as Nate patiently tried to dress him and convince him that going potty before we leave for school is in his best interest.
Henry sat at the breakfast table dramatically howling “I’M GRUMPY!”
To which Charlie replied “I’m grumpy too!” with a smile on his face.
The ride into school was no better and I started sweating profusely as we neared school in anticipation of what our good-byes might look like.
They surprised me.
Charlie’s drop off was completely pleasant and he actually was more excited to dig into his oatmeal and blueberries than he was to say goodbye. Note to self*: expect a “blueberry diaper” from Charlie late this afternoon.
*Self = Nate.
Henry tried to play his “My legs are tired. I can’t walk. I don’t want to go to school. My body hurts.” game, but I forged on. Determined. And Positive.
And then we got to the “name signing” station, which is the last step of our drop off routine. Every child signs their name each morning. Henry’s name spot has always just said “HENRY” and so Henry has always just written “HEnry” (just like that). But today, his name space said “HENRY BARTON” and he noticed right away. He told me you can’t just write one name when it shows two names. So you know what he did? He wrote his two names “HENRY BARTON”. I had to help with the B and A, but he took it from there and then stood back, hands on hips and lips in “fish pose” admiring his accomplishment. “Look at all those letters.” he said. Indeed.
A couple kisses, hugs and waves later, I left. but watched as Henry returned to the name signing station to, what I imagine, admire his great start to this morning.
April 19, 2010
A Bike Story
What an absolutely wonderful weekend we enjoyed as a family. I’m not sure why it was so much better than any other weekend aside from the fact that the sun was out, or maybe I should say it wasn’t raining at least.
To expand Henry’s love of bike riding, we thought it would be a good idea to start doing some family rides around our area. This is so much easier than it actually sounds. First, our bikes looked like they had been used as armor in Iraq. Flat tires, spider webs, loose parts, rust…you get the picture. I spent a good portion of Friday night cleaning bikes and our bike trailer – which was home to many webs, small critters, dirt and who knows what else.
Bike Maintenance Trip #1: Nate went to the sporting goods store to buy a bike pump…which I’d like to point out he got quite a weasel-like deal. He picked up the $39.99 pump, which he thought was the $19.99 pump. And when he told the store he felt the pump was mislabeled, he got the $39.99 pump for a mere $19.99. Well done, Nate.
After cleaning the bike trailer to the point that you could eat off of the tires (Charlie actually tried), we tried to attach it to my bike. Mind you, it was attached to my bike for 3+ years. We only recently unattached it when we moved last October. When we unattached it, we misplaced the “coupler plate” (Impressed I know this? This is the result of much cussing when I thought we were so close to a family ride that I had to do my internet research to see what the hell we were actually missing!). We were missing a coupler plate. It is the coupler plate that stood between me and my family bike ride.
Bike Maintenance Trip #2: Same day as Trip #1, back to the sporting good store to find one of two things. (1) A coupler plate (which we were dreaming if we thought they’d sell a single coupler plate!) or (2) Something else to tow Charlie in. We went with #2 since #1 wasn’t an option at Dicks and we (ok I) was hell bent on a freaking family bike ride.
Here were our options for Charlie. The “Kia” model baby seat which he would fit in until he hits 40 lbs and was selling for the low, low price of $49.99, OR, the “Bentley” model baby seat which changes his diaper while he is riding, has a built-in camelback for water, probably performs a Swedish massage and likely also includes a built in nursery rhyme ipod for the not-so-low price of $129.99. We were looking for the “Honda” model, but Honda wasn’t an option. We weren't leaving empty-handed, damn it. We went Kia.
By the time we got home from Trip #2, it was dark and too late to assemble the Kia, so we danced a jig to distract the kids until the next morning.
The next morning, Nate, smelling the hell bentness I was excreting through my pores, started assembling the Kia at 9:00am only to find that the main Kia bolt that attaches the whole seat to my frame wasn’t going to work with what my bike had to offer. It was a, how do they say, “square peg, round hole” kind of problem. This, of course, led to:
Bike Maintenance Trip #3: The Bike Gallery. Let’s just say they only service “Bentleys” here and they were complete bike snobs. The moment they laid eyes on my motley crew they knew we weren’t direct blood decedents of Lance Armstrong and decided then and there that we were only allowed to drink from the non-Lance blood water fountains. I’ll just leave it at, they weren’t helpful.
We took a much needed lunch break and gorged, no literally, gorged on burritos from our new favorite Mexican restaurant, Qdoba. Not only is it good, the kids eat free on the weekend. We are really starting to get the hang of this “exploiting the kids” thing!
Later that afternoon, Nate got back to work on making the “square peg” round. That’s right! He started drilling and drilling and drilling and shaving and shaving until the square peg actually fit in the round hole! He was a miracle worker! Safe? Probably not. Will do? Yes. And finally, late Saturday night, we had the Kia sitting pretty on the back of my bike. We did a test ride in the driveway with Charlie buckled in and since it didn’t fall off my bike, we declared it a success! Of course, it was way past dinner time at this point, so we had to start jigging again and PROMISED that we’d take the kids out on a freaking family bike ride the next day.
And we finally did.
It was the scariest thing I’ve ever exposed my kids to. It was me and Charlie leading the way. Henry behind me and Nate bringing up the rear. Actually, Nate spent the entire ride walking his bike because Henry went so slow that Nate couldn’t balance his bike (after Henry fell in the roadside ditch, he was a little nervy and didn’t want to let loose on the pedals)….so Nate walked his bike next to Henry. I’m pretty sure Nate said “We’re going back now” three times in the ¼ mile that we pedaled. We eventually made it to the park next to our house and celebrated our adventure. We watched our boys play pretend pirate ship games on the play structure and listened to them squeal at bat-like decibels with pure excitement. It was beautiful.
The ride home was completely uneventful and it seems Henry was finally in his bike riding groove and only declared that “my legs hurt” during the last 200 meters of our ride. I’m pretty sure this means that our Henry has crossed over into Boy Hood, though I’m not sure he understands the significance of this adventure. On this adventure, he listened, he followed instruction, he didn’t whine, he toughed out a fall into a ditch and he pushed through the leg burn. But the only thing he had to say to me when our ride was over was “See Mommy? I didn’t run into any cars!” And he has no idea how much that actually means to me.
To expand Henry’s love of bike riding, we thought it would be a good idea to start doing some family rides around our area. This is so much easier than it actually sounds. First, our bikes looked like they had been used as armor in Iraq. Flat tires, spider webs, loose parts, rust…you get the picture. I spent a good portion of Friday night cleaning bikes and our bike trailer – which was home to many webs, small critters, dirt and who knows what else.
Bike Maintenance Trip #1: Nate went to the sporting goods store to buy a bike pump…which I’d like to point out he got quite a weasel-like deal. He picked up the $39.99 pump, which he thought was the $19.99 pump. And when he told the store he felt the pump was mislabeled, he got the $39.99 pump for a mere $19.99. Well done, Nate.
After cleaning the bike trailer to the point that you could eat off of the tires (Charlie actually tried), we tried to attach it to my bike. Mind you, it was attached to my bike for 3+ years. We only recently unattached it when we moved last October. When we unattached it, we misplaced the “coupler plate” (Impressed I know this? This is the result of much cussing when I thought we were so close to a family ride that I had to do my internet research to see what the hell we were actually missing!). We were missing a coupler plate. It is the coupler plate that stood between me and my family bike ride.
Bike Maintenance Trip #2: Same day as Trip #1, back to the sporting good store to find one of two things. (1) A coupler plate (which we were dreaming if we thought they’d sell a single coupler plate!) or (2) Something else to tow Charlie in. We went with #2 since #1 wasn’t an option at Dicks and we (ok I) was hell bent on a freaking family bike ride.
Here were our options for Charlie. The “Kia” model baby seat which he would fit in until he hits 40 lbs and was selling for the low, low price of $49.99, OR, the “Bentley” model baby seat which changes his diaper while he is riding, has a built-in camelback for water, probably performs a Swedish massage and likely also includes a built in nursery rhyme ipod for the not-so-low price of $129.99. We were looking for the “Honda” model, but Honda wasn’t an option. We weren't leaving empty-handed, damn it. We went Kia.
By the time we got home from Trip #2, it was dark and too late to assemble the Kia, so we danced a jig to distract the kids until the next morning.
The next morning, Nate, smelling the hell bentness I was excreting through my pores, started assembling the Kia at 9:00am only to find that the main Kia bolt that attaches the whole seat to my frame wasn’t going to work with what my bike had to offer. It was a, how do they say, “square peg, round hole” kind of problem. This, of course, led to:
Bike Maintenance Trip #3: The Bike Gallery. Let’s just say they only service “Bentleys” here and they were complete bike snobs. The moment they laid eyes on my motley crew they knew we weren’t direct blood decedents of Lance Armstrong and decided then and there that we were only allowed to drink from the non-Lance blood water fountains. I’ll just leave it at, they weren’t helpful.
We took a much needed lunch break and gorged, no literally, gorged on burritos from our new favorite Mexican restaurant, Qdoba. Not only is it good, the kids eat free on the weekend. We are really starting to get the hang of this “exploiting the kids” thing!
Later that afternoon, Nate got back to work on making the “square peg” round. That’s right! He started drilling and drilling and drilling and shaving and shaving until the square peg actually fit in the round hole! He was a miracle worker! Safe? Probably not. Will do? Yes. And finally, late Saturday night, we had the Kia sitting pretty on the back of my bike. We did a test ride in the driveway with Charlie buckled in and since it didn’t fall off my bike, we declared it a success! Of course, it was way past dinner time at this point, so we had to start jigging again and PROMISED that we’d take the kids out on a freaking family bike ride the next day.
And we finally did.
It was the scariest thing I’ve ever exposed my kids to. It was me and Charlie leading the way. Henry behind me and Nate bringing up the rear. Actually, Nate spent the entire ride walking his bike because Henry went so slow that Nate couldn’t balance his bike (after Henry fell in the roadside ditch, he was a little nervy and didn’t want to let loose on the pedals)….so Nate walked his bike next to Henry. I’m pretty sure Nate said “We’re going back now” three times in the ¼ mile that we pedaled. We eventually made it to the park next to our house and celebrated our adventure. We watched our boys play pretend pirate ship games on the play structure and listened to them squeal at bat-like decibels with pure excitement. It was beautiful.
The ride home was completely uneventful and it seems Henry was finally in his bike riding groove and only declared that “my legs hurt” during the last 200 meters of our ride. I’m pretty sure this means that our Henry has crossed over into Boy Hood, though I’m not sure he understands the significance of this adventure. On this adventure, he listened, he followed instruction, he didn’t whine, he toughed out a fall into a ditch and he pushed through the leg burn. But the only thing he had to say to me when our ride was over was “See Mommy? I didn’t run into any cars!” And he has no idea how much that actually means to me.
April 16, 2010
"Squitters"
This morning Henry saw a commercial for the Disney movie "Oceans".
They were showing a whale and Henry exclaimed "Oh, Mommy! A Seal!"
"Mommy? What does a seal look like"
"Well, remember you saw the seals at the zoo?"
"Oh yea!!! They are the ones with the Squitters!"
"Squitters?"
"Yea...squitters on their cheeks"
Squitters = whiskers
So precious, Henry!
They were showing a whale and Henry exclaimed "Oh, Mommy! A Seal!"
"Mommy? What does a seal look like"
"Well, remember you saw the seals at the zoo?"
"Oh yea!!! They are the ones with the Squitters!"
"Squitters?"
"Yea...squitters on their cheeks"
Squitters = whiskers
So precious, Henry!
April 10, 2010
April 9, 2010
Questions from the Shower
Here's a question that I never thought I would hear myself answer from Henry:
The boys were in the shower together.
Henry: "Mom? Is it ok if I pee on Charlie? He is standing in my way."
I somewhat lost control of myself and have no idea how that one actually played out.
The boys were in the shower together.
Henry: "Mom? Is it ok if I pee on Charlie? He is standing in my way."
I somewhat lost control of myself and have no idea how that one actually played out.
April 5, 2010
Easter-antics
You had your choice of potato casserole, egg casserole,
deviled eggs, cinnamon rolls, mixed fruit and
as an encore, a bite-size serving of Mimi.
Charlie really took to the sparkling cider and has
since entered outpatient cider rehab.
Peep Pool.
Tiny chicks running amuck among the catgrass.
Don't ask.
It isn't complete without an egg hunt.
Or tulips. I mean, duh!
The caake. Pronounced "cauke".
We'll discuss the cauke a little later, MOM.
Boy stuff.
Secrets.
Pretty ladies.
The reason.
Or maybe, this is the reason.
Mmmm....chocolate.
The Cauke. This is the fabulous cake that my Mom has made
for every birthday since I can remember. It is Finnish,
and you know how the Finns like their drinky-drinky.
This cake is made with, or so my mom SWEARS, 1/2 cup of Grand Marnier.
Except, it tastes like it is made with 1/2 gallon or 1/2 whiskey barrel or maybe even a whole effing distillery of Grand Marnier.
Krissy and I simultaneously took a bite, looked at each other as if we sent our children into a burning building and ran toward our
offspring as they scooped the first forkful into their sweet innocent
mouths....both screaming "Noooooo, don't eat the bottom layers!!!!!" as this is
where the booze saturated the cauke in a big, drunk way.
Our mom in the backround proclaiming in her sweet voice...
"it only has 1/2 cup of alcohol in it!"
Ok MOM, she who also drank coffee on a regular basis since she was two, we'll
take it from here.
It was fabulous, especially followed up with a nice long nap.
Happy Easter!
March 26, 2010
Brothers in War
Henry spent some serious quality time setting up
his well thought-out War Zone.
There are good guys and bad guys and they are strategically
placed like a Quentin Tarantino coup de gras.
Why the distress, Henry?
Because Char-zilla appeared, in all
his glory, and took out half of the good guys.
Little Brothers.
March 24, 2010
Music with Charlie
Today, I joined Charlie in his music class. This is exactly 22 minutes of the strangest behavior I have ever witnessed. They had an actual music professional teaching the class and she didn’t “talk”, she “sang”. Everything.
Like this: “I’m singing…and walking…and singing and lets all put the shakers back in the plastic bin….while we are singing and now everybody sit down in a circle while we sing some more…Jasper, you need to find a tissue for your nose..lalalalala”
So, the other 2 year olds were so into this. They were dancing and jumping and clapping and squealing with delight. Charlie sat on my lap with his mouth slightly open and a crease between his eyebrows just watching. I am sure I had a very similiar look going on. It was more a look of awe…as in “what is wrong with that lady, mommy?”. Don’t get me wrong, Charlie and I let loose and have fun all of the time. But I guess I’ve never had the “Mommy & Me” Gymboree Experience before. Maybe it takes some getting used to.
So Charlie and I sat and watched and ½ participated as we watch the other kids and parents shaking their maracas (and their 'maracas', if you know what I mean), cawing like roosters and singing every little movement that their bodies made. It was strange behavior that Charlie and I couldn't look away from, nor did he want to participate.
There was a portion of the 22 minutes that was dedicated to African music and instruments. Michelle, the singing teacher, prefaced the activity with “this portion of the class requires adult supervision because the instruments are real and can be dangerous to toddlers.” Huh?
I thought the same thing, until she pulled out the instruments. Charlie chose a bracelet-like instrument that had HOOVES attached to it. HOOVES people! It made a wood windchime-like sound when you shook it. But the HOOVES were frightening! They were black/brown and curved and all toenaily and I could only think of a certain toenail fungal infection when I looked at them.
And then Charlie put one up to his mouth.
Yep. The End. This is the point when the line was just crossed. We picked up the HOOF braclet, and sang:
“This is disturbing and slightly uncomfortable and we’re putting the music makers back in the plastic bin and we are outta here! Lafrickinglalal”
Actually that was when the 22 minutes was up, so I didn’t really sing that, but we did get to end the session with a bang by lining up and walking like a choo-choo train through the daycare center as we sang a choo-choo song and blew choo-choo whistles. Good Times.
Charlie looked up at me as we stood in the choo-choo line. We read each other minds. And then he took both of his chubby little hands and shook them in front of his face (sign language) and said “All Done?” and “Home?”. I hear ya little man, I hear ya.
I, too, would prefer a wrestle/tickle session, a good round of PlayDoh mashing, and some real music lessons. But, no doubt, I’ll be back in tribal Gymboree next week if only to make sure Charlie doesn’t pick his teeth with the toenail fungi dingo hoof.
Like this: “I’m singing…and walking…and singing and lets all put the shakers back in the plastic bin….while we are singing and now everybody sit down in a circle while we sing some more…Jasper, you need to find a tissue for your nose..lalalalala”
So, the other 2 year olds were so into this. They were dancing and jumping and clapping and squealing with delight. Charlie sat on my lap with his mouth slightly open and a crease between his eyebrows just watching. I am sure I had a very similiar look going on. It was more a look of awe…as in “what is wrong with that lady, mommy?”. Don’t get me wrong, Charlie and I let loose and have fun all of the time. But I guess I’ve never had the “Mommy & Me” Gymboree Experience before. Maybe it takes some getting used to.
So Charlie and I sat and watched and ½ participated as we watch the other kids and parents shaking their maracas (and their 'maracas', if you know what I mean), cawing like roosters and singing every little movement that their bodies made. It was strange behavior that Charlie and I couldn't look away from, nor did he want to participate.
There was a portion of the 22 minutes that was dedicated to African music and instruments. Michelle, the singing teacher, prefaced the activity with “this portion of the class requires adult supervision because the instruments are real and can be dangerous to toddlers.” Huh?
I thought the same thing, until she pulled out the instruments. Charlie chose a bracelet-like instrument that had HOOVES attached to it. HOOVES people! It made a wood windchime-like sound when you shook it. But the HOOVES were frightening! They were black/brown and curved and all toenaily and I could only think of a certain toenail fungal infection when I looked at them.
And then Charlie put one up to his mouth.
Yep. The End. This is the point when the line was just crossed. We picked up the HOOF braclet, and sang:
“This is disturbing and slightly uncomfortable and we’re putting the music makers back in the plastic bin and we are outta here! Lafrickinglalal”
Actually that was when the 22 minutes was up, so I didn’t really sing that, but we did get to end the session with a bang by lining up and walking like a choo-choo train through the daycare center as we sang a choo-choo song and blew choo-choo whistles. Good Times.
Charlie looked up at me as we stood in the choo-choo line. We read each other minds. And then he took both of his chubby little hands and shook them in front of his face (sign language) and said “All Done?” and “Home?”. I hear ya little man, I hear ya.
I, too, would prefer a wrestle/tickle session, a good round of PlayDoh mashing, and some real music lessons. But, no doubt, I’ll be back in tribal Gymboree next week if only to make sure Charlie doesn’t pick his teeth with the toenail fungi dingo hoof.
March 16, 2010
My American Idol
If you would like to vote for Henry to be the next
American Idol, please dial
1 800 Oh My Gad I'm So Freakin' Cute
March 11, 2010
March 8, 2010
March 7, 2010
There is a tent....
In our living room:
And some happy lil' campers to play in it.
And thats how we roll on a Sunday.
March 6, 2010
Things we do when Daddy stays home with us
We eat dirt.
Or bark, or other earthy-ish things
And we make friends and boy-handle
slimy, long, earth worms.
We also made a variety of paper airplanes,
learned how to dribble a basketball
and a soccer ball.
Now that, is some quality boy time!
Thanks Daddy!
March 5, 2010
Quarantine
With Charlie's recent Outbreak,
It's just way easier this way.
It just all washes down the drain.
Don't worry, he's got plenty of water.
March 4, 2010
Blog Vomit
Looking back over the years on this blog, it is obvious to me that B's House has "Blog Schizophrenia".
Is it a way to share photos and funny kid antidotes with family afar?
Is it a future photo album for my children?
Is it a platform for me to rant, laugh and share parenting successes and struggles?
It was originally one thing that morphed in to another and then to another and then reverted back to its original purpose, only to be confused again. My Blog is struggling.
In the end, I suppose it is whatever I make it. It is mine, for Pete's sake. By the way, who IS Pete? I always say that in lieu of more offensive phrases...but maybe Pete, himself, was offensive. Anyways. Todays blog entry is slightly out of the norm because there are no photos or funny stories. Just real life with a dose of diarrhea.
Today, we are home because Charlie contracted Impetigo from daycare. He is on antibiotics now and can return to school when all of the blisters have scabbed over. I thought 24 hours on antibiotics was the criteria to return to care. Turns out, its not. His daycare teachers subtly implied that it will be more than 24 hours when they said, "we'll hopefully see you on Monday". It's Thursday. Ok then.
Those faint of heart, need not read on. There is a little red "x" in the upper right corner of your screen. Click it now. The rest of this is like the Howard Stern of Mommy Blogging. Yea, its in your face blogging. Except for the fact that instead of being sponsored by Ashley Madison, its more like Dolly Madison, but whatever. Its raw.
When you are a parent, and you have a career outside of the home, a sick child drudges up all kinds of emotional debates. For me, at least. Of course, not the "once in the blue moon" sick day. But when you've spent the better part of the last month looking at a sick kid(s) and debating whether your child is too sick to go to school, all kinds of struggles rear their ugly head. If only it were as simple as "he doesn't feel well....I'll stay home with him today and we'll snuggle all day". Ha. Blow. Sunshine. Ass.
The reality, or my reality, is very different.
I'm working off NEGATIVE PTO (paid time off). In the NEGATIVE 20+ hour department.
It feels like I've been "lapped" by my PTO accrual. I'm accruing backwards.
Except for my little work jaunt to Florida, I haven't taken a vacation. This is all used up by covering for lack of daycare or sick children. I don't recall the last time it was used for me being sick.
So, when we have a sick kid that obviously cannot spend the day at daycare, I get the sweats.
In fact, today, when I had to email my (childless) manager that I wouldn't be in because Charlie has "impetigo", the email, frankly sounded pathetic.
"Impetigo" to someone who doesn't actually live in my stratosphere probably interprets as:
"My child cannot find anything suitable to wear to daycare today."
I see my managers shaking head and rolling eyes and imagine he is probably thinking:
"Impetigo....humph....take an aspirin and put a bandaid on it."
I'm probably not giving my manager enough credit. In fact, his response is ALWAYS :
"do what you need to do."
But in my head I hear:
"Really? Again? Maybe you should reevaluate your hygiene practices so he doesn't contract such outlandish skin rashes and then you could spend your work hours at work like all of your coworkers do."
I don't expect that he understands what horrible drama plays out in my head. Truthfully, when I am home with my kids anytime Monday thru Friday between the hours of 8 and 5, I am stressed. I can't help it. I'm stressed because I know that is the time that I am expected to be dedicated to work, like a good employee and we have LOTS of GOOD employees at my work. Its competitive like that. They hired me to work 8 - 5 every day of the week.
The problem with this is, my kids also hired me (ok, not literally, duh, they can't even dress themselves) and they are getting the shaft from me because I have so much more to offer when not overwhelmed and sidetracked. When I am home with them during work hours, my mind is racing in its guilty way that I really shouldn't be here with them, I should be at work. I realize how horrible I sound. Horrible, but honest.
I constantly think about all of the stuff I need to shuffle around at work as I flip pancakes, break up scuffles and change diahhrea diapers, my body is here at home and my mind is sitting in my cubicle. I think about how sad I am that I worked so hard to gain "street cred" on something quite important to me (in the work world) only to have to have someone else step in and "handle it" for me today, because today is the day when it all goes down and "it will just be easier" for them to do it.
When I am at work, and my kids are sick at home, or even when they aren't sick at home, my mind races in its guilty way telling me that they hired me too and I should be with them. It is a vicious, neverending circle of guilt, and I'm not even Catholic.
This is where I ask..."REALLY"? Can you really have it ALL? Because, though I am no math wizard, I just don't see how the math adds up here. And the phrase, which is used too loosely, only makes me feel like I have failed terribly.
And even worse, I have an amazing support system. I have a partner that does more than his 50%. It isn't about that. I think it is more that I've set expectations in my head that are difficult, if not impossible, to meet. I'm a pleaser by nature, which seems to have landed me smack dab in the center of a moral pickle.
Thank you UNIVERSE, I feel you loud and clear. I don't get it, but I feel you.
I just figured it out...maybe it isn't my blog that is schizophrenic, maybe it is....ME?
I have to close now (though I am full of it today) because the diarrhea that Charlie left on my PJ pant leg has now dried to my skin, and it smells horrible. Hopefully, this is an antibiotic side effect that we can look forward to for the next 7 to 10 days. Sweet. Especially sweet because kids with more than 2 loose bowel movements are excluded from care. I can almost smell the irony seeping from Charlie's dia-diaper as I type this!
And if anyone finished reading this blog vomit, you are free to go change your clothes now too.
Sorry about that.
I am sane and smart enough to know that dwelling on things that I cannot change does not do anyone any good, including those around me. However, it is my blog, and sometimes it feels really good to get it out and then I can move on.
This is me....moving on.
Now, can I get an AMEN?
Is it a way to share photos and funny kid antidotes with family afar?
Is it a future photo album for my children?
Is it a platform for me to rant, laugh and share parenting successes and struggles?
It was originally one thing that morphed in to another and then to another and then reverted back to its original purpose, only to be confused again. My Blog is struggling.
In the end, I suppose it is whatever I make it. It is mine, for Pete's sake. By the way, who IS Pete? I always say that in lieu of more offensive phrases...but maybe Pete, himself, was offensive. Anyways. Todays blog entry is slightly out of the norm because there are no photos or funny stories. Just real life with a dose of diarrhea.
Today, we are home because Charlie contracted Impetigo from daycare. He is on antibiotics now and can return to school when all of the blisters have scabbed over. I thought 24 hours on antibiotics was the criteria to return to care. Turns out, its not. His daycare teachers subtly implied that it will be more than 24 hours when they said, "we'll hopefully see you on Monday". It's Thursday. Ok then.
Those faint of heart, need not read on. There is a little red "x" in the upper right corner of your screen. Click it now. The rest of this is like the Howard Stern of Mommy Blogging. Yea, its in your face blogging. Except for the fact that instead of being sponsored by Ashley Madison, its more like Dolly Madison, but whatever. Its raw.
When you are a parent, and you have a career outside of the home, a sick child drudges up all kinds of emotional debates. For me, at least. Of course, not the "once in the blue moon" sick day. But when you've spent the better part of the last month looking at a sick kid(s) and debating whether your child is too sick to go to school, all kinds of struggles rear their ugly head. If only it were as simple as "he doesn't feel well....I'll stay home with him today and we'll snuggle all day". Ha. Blow. Sunshine. Ass.
The reality, or my reality, is very different.
I'm working off NEGATIVE PTO (paid time off). In the NEGATIVE 20+ hour department.
It feels like I've been "lapped" by my PTO accrual. I'm accruing backwards.
Except for my little work jaunt to Florida, I haven't taken a vacation. This is all used up by covering for lack of daycare or sick children. I don't recall the last time it was used for me being sick.
So, when we have a sick kid that obviously cannot spend the day at daycare, I get the sweats.
In fact, today, when I had to email my (childless) manager that I wouldn't be in because Charlie has "impetigo", the email, frankly sounded pathetic.
"Impetigo" to someone who doesn't actually live in my stratosphere probably interprets as:
"My child cannot find anything suitable to wear to daycare today."
I see my managers shaking head and rolling eyes and imagine he is probably thinking:
"Impetigo....humph....take an aspirin and put a bandaid on it."
I'm probably not giving my manager enough credit. In fact, his response is ALWAYS :
"do what you need to do."
But in my head I hear:
"Really? Again? Maybe you should reevaluate your hygiene practices so he doesn't contract such outlandish skin rashes and then you could spend your work hours at work like all of your coworkers do."
I don't expect that he understands what horrible drama plays out in my head. Truthfully, when I am home with my kids anytime Monday thru Friday between the hours of 8 and 5, I am stressed. I can't help it. I'm stressed because I know that is the time that I am expected to be dedicated to work, like a good employee and we have LOTS of GOOD employees at my work. Its competitive like that. They hired me to work 8 - 5 every day of the week.
The problem with this is, my kids also hired me (ok, not literally, duh, they can't even dress themselves) and they are getting the shaft from me because I have so much more to offer when not overwhelmed and sidetracked. When I am home with them during work hours, my mind is racing in its guilty way that I really shouldn't be here with them, I should be at work. I realize how horrible I sound. Horrible, but honest.
I constantly think about all of the stuff I need to shuffle around at work as I flip pancakes, break up scuffles and change diahhrea diapers, my body is here at home and my mind is sitting in my cubicle. I think about how sad I am that I worked so hard to gain "street cred" on something quite important to me (in the work world) only to have to have someone else step in and "handle it" for me today, because today is the day when it all goes down and "it will just be easier" for them to do it.
When I am at work, and my kids are sick at home, or even when they aren't sick at home, my mind races in its guilty way telling me that they hired me too and I should be with them. It is a vicious, neverending circle of guilt, and I'm not even Catholic.
This is where I ask..."REALLY"? Can you really have it ALL? Because, though I am no math wizard, I just don't see how the math adds up here. And the phrase, which is used too loosely, only makes me feel like I have failed terribly.
And even worse, I have an amazing support system. I have a partner that does more than his 50%. It isn't about that. I think it is more that I've set expectations in my head that are difficult, if not impossible, to meet. I'm a pleaser by nature, which seems to have landed me smack dab in the center of a moral pickle.
Thank you UNIVERSE, I feel you loud and clear. I don't get it, but I feel you.
I just figured it out...maybe it isn't my blog that is schizophrenic, maybe it is....ME?
I have to close now (though I am full of it today) because the diarrhea that Charlie left on my PJ pant leg has now dried to my skin, and it smells horrible. Hopefully, this is an antibiotic side effect that we can look forward to for the next 7 to 10 days. Sweet. Especially sweet because kids with more than 2 loose bowel movements are excluded from care. I can almost smell the irony seeping from Charlie's dia-diaper as I type this!
And if anyone finished reading this blog vomit, you are free to go change your clothes now too.
Sorry about that.
I am sane and smart enough to know that dwelling on things that I cannot change does not do anyone any good, including those around me. However, it is my blog, and sometimes it feels really good to get it out and then I can move on.
This is me....moving on.
Now, can I get an AMEN?
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