14 posts tagged “kvetching”
Isn’t it one of the first rules of blogging (that you do not talk about blogging… oh man that was so lame! heh) is to keep an entry to one subject — one narrative? Well, let me tell you right in advance that I obviously lack that gene. Or skill. Or the will to follow that rule. Can’t/won’t/don’t wanna.
Okay. That said, I have a lot on my mind lately. (more…)
That’s currently my mantra.
Seriously, SERIOUSLY… how did we possibly think moving would be a good idea. Oh sure, there’s the whole NEW HOUSE aspect of it all… and that’s awesome. But really… this packing thing? Well, it can go straight to H-E-double hockey sticks, Chester. It is so kicking my butt that I should have a bootprint tattooed on my… well, you get the idea.
I don’t know how this is all going to be finished by tomorrow, but I can tell you that my griping about it on my blog certainly is NOT accelerating our progress.
See you on the other side.
No, seriously. It’s been a week. All week. All two weeks? We’re rounding out the end of the second week of having pulled Aidan out of daycare (aka No Sleep Til Brooklyn EVER). Compounded by mega caseworker revolving door, HORRIBLY messy house, and well - too much other crap to ennumerate… well. Hi Stress.
Being a Full-time Mama is Hard. Like Math
Since having Aidan home full-time it has become just punch-me-in-the-face obvious that he has a) mega stranger anxiety and b) big-time mama attachment. Love that he wants mama all the time, but it’s been tough when it comes time to feeding and diapering Madi - a total screamfest. And I can’t really engage both of them in the same space because Aidan is totally fascinated with eyeholes. And sticking his fingers in everyone else’s. Also, he enjoys possessing her head with his bendy little fingers. And he is STRONG, so yeah. Separate is key.
Bump in the car
The first day that I had pulled him out of day care, Greg and I decided to meet for lunch. So I picked him up and on our way to the restaurant we got rear-ended. With the kids in the car. Honestly, despite the fact that the people that hit us were so incredibly nice, I just wanted to yell in their faces for even scaring my kids. Thankfully, everyone was okay. On the bright side, we got to replace the car seats. I had recently replaced Aidan’s infant seat with a convertible that, as it turned out, I hate. It has a dial and lever apparatus on the side for loosening and tightening the belts. Totally inconvenient and not very effective. Madi is right at the 20 lb mark, so I was shopping around for convertibles for her - and well. I guess if there is convenient timing for replacing the carseats, there you have it. (Ugh.) So I knew what seats I wanted, went online and ordered them:
Seriously, I know it’s wrong to love carseats so much, but I do. Easy lap belt installation, adjustable head rests. Cushy padding. I freaking want a car seat.
In which I mention Moving. Shocking!
You know what is just terribly wrong? When the car seats showed up on my doorstep, my first thought was - “Awesome! Two more boxes for packing!”
In other news, our house closes in less than two weeks and we move in about three. Finally. I can’t wait for it all to be done.
Must See TV My Neighborhood
Did you watch My Name is Earl or The Office last week? Like, seven whole days ago? Who remembers…? I almost can’t. Except that both shows had scenes that took place in my ghettohood. In the Office where Jim and Pam go off to get a bite to eat, that’s Home Plate Burgers, which is literally less than a block from where I live. Back a couple of years ago they used the exterior for an episode of My Name is Earl and they cleaned up the exterior:
Prior to the filming of Earl, the exterior looked like this:
Classy neighborhood.
Disconcerting
I just found out the Google Maps has implemented a new feature in several metro areas called “street view.” You can type in an address and then click the street view and see what is at that address (or about) visually.
Awesome. Awesome stalker tool.
Can NOT wait to get out of LA. T-20 days.
I am the first person to tell you that I am the - with a hard “e” THEEEE - luckiest woman on the planet. Great husband, terrific family and support system, and I won the baby lottery. I have two gorgeous, engaging, sweet little babies. Both under one. Apple cheeked (both ends), big bright blue eyes, and toes like little corn niblets. Mmm! It’s entirely no surprise whatsoever that we get stopped frequently when we go anywhere (and we all go out together for most everything - grocery shopping, errands, what-have-you).
Usually when we go out, it’s both Greg and I with both babies. When that’s the case, it’s easier to head off conversation with strangers by engaging conversation with each other, if we aren’t already. When I’m by myself - I wish the people would just leave us alone. Because as sure as I did not give birth to my beautiful babies, I also do not know how to keep my mouth shut.
Funny thing? Neither do the people who stop me to comment on my children.
In the last three months “Are they twins?” has been the #1 question and/or comment — with a bullet.
Answers I should say:
- Yes. (Lie and shut them up.)
- Why do you want to know? (Seriously, shut them up.)
- What do you think? (Duh.)
Answer I give:
- No.
The conversation that follows, invariably, goes like this:
THEM: “How old are they?”
ME: “She’s 6½ months, he’s 10½ months.”
THEM: *slackjawed* How did that happen?/Are they both yours?/How do you do that?
What I should say: “Why do you want to know?”
Then it becomes a situation where I’m divulging really personal information to a complete stranger. I DON’T WANT TO DO THAT! It’s gotten to the point where people I don’t know have asked me if I’m infertile (wow. WOW.), do we get money for the kids/how much, why didn’t we adopt out-of-country, and even a remark that thank goodness that they weren’t aborted.
Honestly people. Did your mamas not teach you manners?
Here’s my personal suggestion when you encounter a family with baby/ies:
“He/she/they’re beautiful.”
“Congratulations.”
…and if anyone ever confides in you that they’ve adopted a child, I wholeheartedly recommend that you do NOT say any of the following:
- “He/she/they look like you.” (I get that a lot with both my children and really? They don’t. Maybe you should get glasses. We all just have very full cheekies and blue eyes.)
- “They’re very lucky.” (We’re all very lucky to have each other. I’m the luckiest of all.)
- Say anything that even remotely smacks of a hint of a suggestion of a whisper that the person is not a real parent. (I am doused with baby puke several times every day. I am sleep deprived. I give kisses and cuddles and feedings. The only difference is that I did not give birth to my child.)
- Make any assumptions about fertility. Adoption isn’t always a last option when it comes to building a family.
I’ve opened myself up to all kinds of ridiculous and terrible things by answering questions too openly (really, because that’s who I am) - but I’m done. Or maybe I’m just really exhausted (I am) and had one too many frustrating experiences today (I did) and I’m being melodramatic (unpossible!) — we’ll see how I respond the next time some seemingly delightful woman smiles and asks me if my beautiful babies are twins…
Ti-faux: Full of “Parental Control”, courtesy of my husband. Thanks, Greg. You know how long it took me to delete those 15 shows? Good grief, y’all.
Foot: Full of pain. Sprained. Wonder why? Tripping over toys and/or boxes while carrying any or all of my 20 lb babies.
Sleep: HAHAHAHA. Kidding.
Outside: Full of sunshine. I love Southern California. If I had my way, I would coerce friends and family into living here. Seriously, why would you not? (Rhetorical.)
Kids: Full of puke. I need to do laundry (why am I not doing it right now? Oh, right. Procrastination. I can’t wait until my laundry is in the house.) because I have baby vomit on almost every single top and dress. It’s attractive.
House: Full of excitement. The house will be complete on/about 4/24, and we will close within the week. Then we will move shortly thereafter. Do I hear anyone volunteering to help? Bueller? Bueller…?!?
Family: Full of loooove. I asked Aidan to give Daddy kisses this morning and he turned around and kissed me. He never gives kisses on demand (doesn’t stop me from trying!) and I melted into a big pile of mama. He’s the most special baby boy, ever. Ever. I can’t believe my little boy is less than 2 months away from turning one year old. I want him to stay little forever. I am so conflicted seeing him grow up. I want him to stay little forever, but I’m so PROUD of him and all the things he can do! (Being a mama is haaaard!!)
Fin.
Does it mean something if one’s right eyelid starts involuntarily spasming every time something stressful happens/is mentioned/is in one’s thoughts?
Because I’m thinking it’s TOTALLY COINCIDENTAL.
Right? Riiiight??!!?!?
Day four and counting…
Well, the verdict is in, our taxes are back and we owe again. Seriously, I’m so annoyed. But whatever. Whatever. What. EVER.
(So. Annoyed.)
The timing could not be more annoying with the house and all.
Oh, and the stupid home builders? The ones that we’ve been calling saying, “Hey, when are we going to do the pre-drywall walkthru? When? When? Huh?” And they’ve been saying, “Soon, soon. We’ll get back to you on that…” Well, they called today and said, “Hey, drywall is scheduled to start going up on Saturday, howze ’bout y’all coming down tomorrow?”
Howze about not-so-much, seeing as Greg works as well as we need to give the daycare more than a day’s notice for a drop-in.
Honestly, I’m getting a little cheesed with the people who are cheesing me off.
And now for something completely different:
Aaaaaaaaapes!
(Damn dirty apes.)
Today we have a DCFS home audit.
My home? Looks like two babies live here and that their parents NEVER clean up. But we do. But does it look like it? No.
I’ve spent three hours this morning cleaning this place and Aidan has spent three hours melting down.
I had three hours of sleep last night. Only because by the grace of my husband did he relieve me of crying baby duty. You see, Aidan is not feeling good. He is breaking like, four rows of teeth. Not four teeth, but I’m pretty sure he’s a shark. Four layers. Because he’s miserable. And sleeping. Aidan’s philosophy on sleeping? F— sleeping! And if Aidan doesn’t sleep? Ain’t nobody sleepin’! Actually, I’m pretty sure putting him down wouldn’t be such a trauma if I hadn’t lowered his crib so much so that when we put him down he didn’t feel like he was being dropped into the bowels of hell.
Crap. He’s crying again.
Bye.
I need to talk less and listen more.
Thus ends the fact portion of this program. The rest are just my opinions.
I am in such a bad headspace right now. I’m really aggravated and just feel like taking space from everyone right now. Well, except for the people who live under my roof, and a few others. But overall? So aggravated. I’ll get over it, but in the meantime? I’m just stewing in my own… stew.
*stews*
I did Valentine’s day for Greg for under $25 from all three of us. The kids and I made plaster handprints from each of them, and I bought $5 Target valentine frames (so cute!) and printed out pictures of each of the kids that he had not seen before and put them in the frames <– that was from me. Inexpensive but meaningful. Tonight we’ve got a social worker visit, because that is just how we roll around here… honestly, it’s insane the amount of visitation and home visits we have. At least, I think it is. Although, as they say, we knew the job was dangerous when we took it.
Okay - I’m going to end this on an UP note. I’m not sure… have I mentioned this…? Next Friday Greg and I are signing permanent placement paperwork for Aidan’s adoption. It is the last step before the finalization of the adoption. Once we do this, we send the paperwork to our attorney for magical attorney and court stuff, and within 3 months the adoption will be final. This I know. My hope and wish? That he will be finalized on or before his first birthday.
Also? The day we’re signing permanent placement papers? That would also happen to be Greg and my birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO US! …and then we’re going to the zoo.
It’s going to be a great day next Friday, it is.
[this part was written yesterday before I had to immediately log off because my son started screaming bloody murder at 11p]
Please help me find my telephone. It really would have been nice to have today since I didn’t have the GPS on me when I had both the kids and had to make an appointment in the city at an address I didn’t have on me.
Today was rough.
I haven’t seen it since, I think Saturday. Gah. If I can’t find it by tomorrow I do believe there is a Pantech Duo with my name on it. But really, I don’t want to think about re-doing all my phone numbers and games.
In other news,
[this is where I ended yesterday]
I have no idea what this other news was going to be. I do know that my son is going to the pediatrician today at 2 because he has an ear infection that causes him to SCRRRRRREEEEEEAAAMMMM like he’s being hacked into tiny bits. I’ve had less than two hours sleep, I have no phone, a cranky baby, another baby that keeps looking at him then looking at me like “wtf now?” And I’m about to claw my brains out.
Hi. Just another day at the ranch. And by ranch, I mean townhouse next to goats. (I would post a goat picture, but dammit - all my pictures of the neighbor goats are ON MY CELLPHONE! Oh, sweet irony…)
